Shifter Situations: The Chronicles of Sloane King

by M F Adele

  Their front door lay on the floor inside their apartment. The trim was splintered from it being kicked in. I walked across it, into the living space, and the utter chaos made my mind whirl a-mile-a-minute.

  “The fuck?” Palmer whispered, echoing everyone’s thoughts.

  The couches and armchair were shredded, the fabric slashed and foam inserts pulled to pieces. The polyfill-like stuffing had been strewn about the room, as if someone had been angrily searching the contents of all the pillows.

  I turned left, noticing that the appliances were no longer where they should be. The fridge was shoved against the kitchen Island. The dishwasher was flipped on its side. Cabinet doors hung by one hinge. And all the boxed or bagged food looked like it had exploded, covering the floor in a layer of crumbs and broken bits.

  I followed Vaughn and York down the hall on the other side of the kitchen. Holes littered all the walls, most the size of a sledgehammer or a large fist. Crushed picture frames and shattered glass coated the carpet, crunching under my shoes.

  My mage stood in one of the two bedroom doorways on this end of the apartment.

  “Why would they take all your books?” Vaughn scrutinized the disaster of an office before turning to Palmer and me.

  I raised my brows at them. “His books are in the library at home or in his bedroom. Franklin moved everything out except for the big furniture, appliances, and pictures.”

  Palmer nodded as Vaughn clapped him on the shoulder. I glanced at York, both of us shrugging to each other. The mess that the apartment was left in was overwhelming and a bit confusing.

  I backtracked to the living area, slowly combing over the sights for any clues... Not that I had any idea what would and wouldn’t be useful at this point. The list of destruction continued to grow as I made my way down the hall on the right side of the apartment.

  There were four bedrooms and all of them were trashed. The mattresses had been sliced open on both sides. The pillows had been violently ripped apart. Mirrors busted. Shelves knocked over.

  I had to walk away to think.

  I leaned against a wall in the living room, too cautious to even attempt sitting on the remains of the furniture. I fumbled with my phone as Briggs stepped up beside me.

  “I don’t know what they were looking for,” he began aloud, mentally finishing. “But whatever it was, I’m guessing it wasn’t here.”

  “Franklin said he moved everything. Whatever was in your room here is now in your room at the estate. Same for everyone else.”

  I called Franklin.

  “We’re having a big pest problem at the guys’ apartment. We’re going to need the exterminator to take a look, and we may need a contractor to fix some chewed-up spots. We should probably check with the neighbors too.”

  “I’ll set the appointment.”

  “Cash in hand. Spare no expense.”

  “We’ll see him after his trip.”

  “Thank you.”

  “No trail, check everything…” Briggs studied the ceiling as he deciphered the rest of the code. “He’ll let us know when the deed is done?”

  I nodded, I mentally explained. “Until we know more, I don’t think drawing attention to ourselves or the damage here is a smart move.”

  “Then why do you look like you’re up to something?”

  “I want to check Annette’s apartment while we’re here.”

  “I’m sure the guys will too.”

  “We need to be careful now that we know she’s not human.”

  I stopped before completing my thought. “I wonder why everyone in this building appears to be human? I mean, I saw the receptionist for what she was, but why didn’t you guys notice?”

  “I don’t know, Barbie. That lady has been working here for the last year, at least. I’ve never sensed anything supernatural about her.”

  I couldn’t think of a way to reply to his statement, so I just didn’t. There was always something more going on, and this was no exception.

  I was on the fence, warring with myself over whether it should matter or not. Who really cared if you could sense magic in the building?

  I did... godsdamnit.

  But it wasn’t important.

  I needed to stay focused on the immediate issues.

  And that included finding out more information on the neighbor.

  The fae-mage.

  Fucking Annette.

  I sought out my guys, still speaking mentally as I mused over listening devices.

  The chances of bugs being left in a destroyed apartment were fifty-fifty in my experience. Not that I had a ton…

  I wasn’t sure if there was a proper number of break-ins one needed as the control subject for—Uhm. Back-up. That didn’t sound right.

  I wasn’t sure of how many break-ins one would have to be a part of to accurately predict the probability of—Mmm. That wasn’t right either.

  The statistical facts, maybe?

  I tilted my head as I tried to figure out the right way to phrase what I was trying to say.

  York squinted his eyes at me. “What are you thinking about?”

  Novak gagged before answering both York and me. “Math, and the answer is twelve. You need to participate in at least a dozen—”

  “No. We’re not comparing criminal records today.” Vaughn closed his eyes as he shook his head.

  I hummed aloud, mentally probing at my fae. “So, how do you feel about breaking into your old neighbor’s apartment?”

  “I thought you just said that we shouldn’t draw attention to ourselves?” Briggs questioned.

  Palmer grinned mischievously. “Who’s gonna see us?”

  “My thoughts exactly.”

  “Through the Void?”

  “Nope. We’re going to knock a big-ass hole in the wall and walk through it,” I smarted, straightening my mouth to portray seriousness.

  “Sure,” Briggs popped back. “You have fun with that. I’ll just wait here.”

  My mage snorted at him, disappearing as he stepped into the Void, but he bounced out and stumbled across the living room.

  “What the fuck?” he muttered, stepping into the icy winds again.

  He dropped back out, landing on his ass on the floor while he rubbed at his nose. “I think I just hit a wall.”

  “A wall inside the Void?” York clarified.

  “Aye. Like runnin’ into bricks. I couldn’t leave the perimeter of our apartment. It was as if something was holdin’ me in.”

  “I’ll check.” Stone looked curious as he popped in the Void and then immediately out. He did it twice more before he grew agitated and stopped.

  “Try to mist, Vaughn,” Novak suggested.

  I stepped into the Void as my fae misted away, but I had no problem getting to the large, empty space across the hall. When I got back into their apartment, I was met with expectant stares.

  “I didn’t have an issue. Though, I may have landed in the wrong place. It wasn’t an apartment. It was just one big room.”

  “Why can’t we get through?”

  “That’s not the right question,” Stone commented, drawing a flame into his hand. A very tiny flame…

  “Is something blocking your powers too, or is it only mine? I’d never thought about it before, but since we’ve been gone, I’ve had better control. It wasn’t a control issue, though. I feel weaker being here. Physically, I’m fine, but I know this isn’t all the fire I can call at once.”

  “You know what? Fuck this,” Novak growled, stomping into the hall and straight to the neighbor’s door.

  “Don't—” Briggs began a second too late.

  My vampire already had his leg lifted, boot sailing through the air to collide with the edge of the door closest to the lock.

  “Kick the door in,” Briggs finished, rubbing his forehead with his middle finger. “Did you not just hear us talking about not drawing attention to ourselves? You had to have heard us. I saw you standing there.”

  “I was really wor
ried about Ms. Annette,” Novak stated too loudly in the silent hallway. “It’s unlike her to be so quiet.”

  His playful golden eyes shot in the direction of the elevator before bouncing back to us. “What if something happened?”

  I tipped my head down, letting my hair curtain around my face to hide my expression. The way he spoke sounded like a bad audition for a play, and I wanted so badly to giggle... But cameras.

  I sighed, glancing up to see York raise both his brows at my nosy vampire. Vaughn was pinching the bridge of his nose, rolling his lips in as his cheeks twitched with suppressed laughter.

  Briggs threw his head back to glare at the ceiling, and Palmer rolled his stormy gray eyes before covering his expression with his hand.

  Stone stood in place, having no reaction except a slow tilt of his head. He padded forward, his steps soundless on the concrete floor. I followed closely behind him, noticing that the air smelled sweet but stale.

  I hadn’t been in the wrong place earlier, though something was terribly off about this space. My anxiety ratcheted up a notch with every foot of distance I put between myself and the threshold. My breaths grew more rapid as the seconds ticked by.

  The apartment wasn’t a residence at all. It was four exterior walls with nothing inside. The entire area was empty save for a silver tin in the dead center of the floor.

  I strode to the windows on the far side of the room, looking out to see a perfect view of the front door of the office building across the street.

  The office that, up until May, I spent my workdays at.

  “Where did the cluttered entryway go?” Briggs whispered, perplexed as he looked around.

  Stone lifted a shoulder in indifference. “I’ve never passed her foyer, so maybe it’s always looked like this?”

  “This is where I landed earlier,” I confessed, more to myself than them. “I didn’t stay long enough to take anything in.”

  Along the thin, black sills at the base of the windows were beautiful fae crystals. I knew better than to touch them, though. They were too similar to the ones we took from the camp.

  "Vaughn? How do we destroy these? They could be the answer to all the weird shit that's happening here."

  As my fae lumbered over to where I stood, Palmer called out to me. I held my index finger up, silently asking for him to wait as Vaughn leaned closer to the colorful crystals.

  His eyes iced over as his ire rose, frosted lashes touching his cheek. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply.

  “See what Palmer needs, Princess, and ask Stone to come over here.”

  I furrowed my brows, wanting to push back, but I didn’t. Those magic crystals were unchartered territory for me, and I didn’t want to fuck with them. I simply wanted them gone or out of sight. We could put them in the safe at home if needed.

  As long as they couldn’t drain our power without our knowledge, then I didn’t mind…

  That was a lie.

  I wanted them destroyed. End of story.

  I made my way to Palmer, sending my demon back to Vaughn.

  Briggs and my mage were kneeling beside the tin and had removed the lid to expose cookies and a note. Palmer grabbed the grease-stained paper.

  My wolf picked up a cookie, sniffing at it before shrugging a shoulder nonchalantly. He brought it to his mouth, and Novak slapped the treat from his hand so hard that it flew across the room, crumbling when it hit the wall.

  “What the fuck are ye playin’ at?” Palmer admonished.

  Briggs raised his hands in surrender. “Damn, Mage. Chill out. It’s only a cookie.”

  “Did we miss you hitting your head or something?” York questioned.

  Novak kicked the tin, launching the rest of the cookies to the other side of the room. Briggs rolled his forest green eyes, though they twinkled with amusement as he winked at me.

  “Just trying to break some of the tension,” he muttered.

  I glanced at my demon and fae, watching as Vaughn formed a tight ball of water around the cluster of crystals. Stone covered it with a layer of hellfire, and my fae added a shell of ice to that.

  When the ice was fully hardened, Vaughn closed his fist and twisted his wrist. The sphere they’d created began to shrink in size until it imploded. The noise it created felt like an echo against my eardrum. It wasn’t a loud sound, but it was deep.

  Glittering drops of water pelted the concrete floor, and Stone was quick to dry them up.

  “Can you two do that to slime?” Novak inquired.

  We all snapped our heads in the direction of his voice, finding him standing next to the crushed cookies and silver tin.

  Or what used to be a silver tin.

  York leaned over my vampire’s shoulder, peering at the floor. “What is that?”

  “I don’t know,” Novak admitted, turning his head slightly to glance at my druid. “But it used to be those cookies.”

  Palmer stood, handing me the note from the container. He joined Novak and York, studying the dingy green sludge as it morphed into a toxic brownish color.

  I listened to their conversation as I stared at the paper gripped between my thumbs and index fingers.

  “You were wondering what would have prevented you guys from finding Sloane sooner. Here's exhibit A,” York announced in his best game show voice.

  “It was the cookies?” Vaughn’s quizzical reply rose in pitch at the end.

  “It had to be them…” Palmer trailed off, nodding his head. “We all ate them.”

  Briggs shook his head. “Novak never ate them.”

  My vampire rubbed at the back of his neck as he grimaced. “I did, but not often. Maybe half a cookie when she’d drop them off.”

  “But why?” Stone mumbled.

  “Being a vampire doesn’t mean that I have to hate cookies.”

  “No.” My demon held his hand up to stop Novak’s grumbling. “Why prevent the bonds? How would she know who our mate was? Or that we all had the same mate?”

  “Maybe she didn’t. It’s possible that she knew at least one of us was Sloane’s mate, and she was coverin’ her bases by... I don’t know. Givin’ us all the same potion? I can’t really tell if it’s that or a spell that was meant to be ingested.”

  Palmer had turned to face me as he spoke, but I could only shrug at him.

  I had no answers for them.

  I only had more questions.

  I tuned them out as I glared at the letter in my hands, and dread crept up my spine as I flipped it over. Little King was written in sloppy handwriting across the folded page in the same chicken-scratch that I’d seen before.

  Time is almost up.

  -A. Moore

  P.S. Have some cookies.

  I snorted, torn between throwing my hands up and walking away from all the bullshit or killing Annette Moore.

  The natural course of action was murder, but I was so fucking... Tired. I felt like we were getting closer to solving everything, and it was all within reach.

  That was another lie I’d been telling myself.

  We were climbing up the downward escalator, its speed tenfold what it should be. That was the picture my mind conjured up.

  As the guys continued to work their thoughts out, I had one serious question that was driving me insane…

  Why the fuck would I eat cookies from a stranger?

  27

  Palmer

  Monday, June 8th

  Afternoon

  I’d never been more relieved than I was when Sloane said she was ready to go.

  I didn’t want shit to do with our old apartment or Annette’s office-space-turned-fake-residence. That whole fucking building could burn, and I wouldn’t think twice about it.

  Some of the topics we’d speculated while there were bugging me, but none of it could be changed now.

  Did it matter that our neighbor had dozens of fae crystals that were siphoning our power through the walls? Not anymore. We weren’t being drained, and we’d all regained strength that we di
dn’t know we had.

  Was I concerned about not being able to sense supernatural creatures inside the building we no longer lived in? Nope. I thought she may have been trying to cover up her own tracks, not hiding everyone.

  Were we pissed that we’d possibly been eating cookies that were blocking us from feeling our mate bonds with Sloane? Fuck yes, but I was also intrigued by the unknown magic. Purely in an academic sense; not in an I wanna test it out again sense.

  Had it been shitty to see our apartment trashed beyond recognition? Yeah, though it didn’t matter in the grand scheme of all the issues on our plate. None of us had wanted to go back. We’d grown accustomed to seeing our mate every day, and we didn’t want that to change.

  I’d beelined straight for the library as soon as we had arrived home, and now that I was here, I couldn’t take my eyes off the walls.

  They were lined, floor to ceiling, with black shelves stacked full of books. Every section had thin, gold lettering at the top of the shelf labeling them as fiction or nonfiction, and beneath that were subsections. Everything from supernatural and human history to paranormal fiction to ancient tomes that no longer had words on the spines.

  To my right, a few leather chairs sat with sleek tables in between them. And to my left, the shelves extended away from the wall to create small alcoves.

  Across from me, a single, massive window overlooked the front lawn. The sunshine highlighted all the knicks and knots in the wooden flooring, giving the youthful room an old and cozy atmosphere.

  As I moved around to the sitting area, I noticed one of the chairs appeared more used than the others. There was a fuzzy, black blanket tossed over the back and a book balancing on the left armrest.

  The Time Machine by H.G. Wells sat with a pink ribbon bookmark stuck in the middle, taunting me to pick it up and lose myself in the science fiction fantasy. I grinned, thinking of leaving a list of my favorite quotes and questions atop my mate’s current read.

  I collapsed in the leather armchair on the left of Sloane’s, curiously peeking into the small black box on the side table. The lid was glass, and it was filled with Alec Bradley cigars, only a few singles not of the same brand.