Bodyguards of Samhain Shifter Box Set

by Lisa Daniels

  Morgana nodded thoughtfully. If she looked anything like this child had… “I’m not her. Don’t worry. I don’t have any sudden urges to sneak out of the house, drink beer, and prove myself. I went to a necromancer and supernatural private school. They train us to be careful with our magic.”

  “That’s good,” Theon murmured. “It’s just… you really do look like her.” He was on his phone, searching for something, until he walked over to her and showed an old photo of Fela Norman.

  Morgana examined the long-dead girl pensively. There were similarities. Their hair type was the same, wavy and red. Fela’s eyes were lighter-colored, but there was something in the cheek and chin that might have made Fela a distant cousin. “I see it.”

  “Mm.” Theon closed the image. “Her picture reminds me of my failure. When I first set eyes on you, I just wanted to walk out of there and never look back.”

  “I’m glad you didn’t,” Morgana said with a shy smile, feeling her cheeks heat.

  Theon regarded her with intense eyes, expression grave. “So am I.”

  Those three words lingered in Morgana’s mind for hours after he said them. So am I.

  Chapter Six – Theon

  Morgana was no Fela Norman. He saw that now. Her attitude was less brittle, less desperate to prove something. She didn’t boast, or want to boast. She didn’t feel a need to be someone else, and he admired that trait in a person. Too many people wanting to be like someone else, only brushing surface-level thoughts and interactions with others, never going deep enough to be anything more than what others expected of them.

  “Compared to you,” she was saying, as they sat in a small café, munching through panini sandwiches, “my life hasn’t been that exciting. I’ve been safe and sheltered with my upbringing. I didn’t get spitballed or anything like that when I was growing up. Honestly, I liked it. Even if I felt sad or whatever that I didn’t see my family much. It was more like that sadness where you stop for a moment and you’re like, oh, no one’s here.” She smiled shyly. “At the boarding school, some of the girls slept in each other’s beds instead when they were lonely. I used to sleep with someone called Kiara when I went to one. We’d wait until the matron finished her inspections, then just crawl into each other’s beds for the company.”

  “How old were you?” Theon asked, wondering if they were just children, or teenagers, when puberty was hitting and therefore all the hormones that followed.

  “Seven when we were sharing beds.”

  “You went to boarding school when you were seven?” Theon gaped in horror. “And you stayed at the school afterward and slept there?”

  “It was quite common with private schools back then. They still have a few, but they’re rare nowadays.”

  Theon’s lips pressed together. That sounded pretty damn lonely to him. He always had his family to go back to, to have gatherings with, dinners, to run around with in the forest as a cub and shambling bear teenager. And sometimes a shifter woman to take out into the forest and enjoy all night with her, brimming with youth and confidence and sure they were never in danger.

  But this—this sounded like the fun being sucked out of life, where little children huddled together at night because they were lonely.

  “You were still at boarding school as a teenager?”

  “Yes, but a different one for my age group. Kiara came to it as well, so I didn’t start off alone,” Morgana said, now thoughtful. “This one had boys and girls, but each had an entire building just to themselves to be taught in and sleep in. We only met for big school events or under heavy supervision in the playgrounds. They didn’t want any of us fooling around. Getting caught sleeping with someone else was sure grounds for expulsion, shame with the family and all that.”

  “Surely people found a way to get around things, anyway,” Theon answered, grinning slightly. “People can be quite ingenious.”

  “Yeah, we did. There was also a bit of… experimenting, too.” Morgana flushed. “Like with the other girls, when we were curious about something, or someone showed something.”

  Interesting... Theon tried very, very hard not to imagine some group girl orgy involving Morgana, and squeezed his thighs hard together to add discomfort to his genitals, so he didn’t end up reacting in a way he shouldn’t. Stupid thing liked to work contrary to his brain at times. “Did you enjoy your time?”

  “I did. I learned a lot,” she said, now wearing an impish grin, light brown eyes shining. “The matron of the secondary school almost caught four of us practicing putting on condoms on cucumbers, and blowing balloons out of them. Barely managed to stuff them out of sight under the mattresses.”

  “She should be glad,” Theon deadpanned. “After all, learning about safe, responsible sex is a very important life skill.”

  Morgana snorted at this, leaving the crust of her panini and wiping her mouth with a tissue. “She was one of those types who believed the only kind of safe sex was no sex at all.”

  “There is a logic to that...” Theon grinned. “But I guess your matron was never a teenager.”

  “Probably was born that way,” Morgana laughed, and her voice was so infectious that Theon found himself joining in as well. He also found his brain thinking a little too long on Morgana’s physicality. The way she gracefully reclined upon the chair, tilting her head back to sip at her drink, which showed her pale throat bobbing and swallowing the liquid. It was the only real flesh she exposed, as her arms were covered up, as were her legs, again as if hiding herself from the world. She didn’t need to, though. He would very much like to see a lot more of her.

  He just knew he couldn’t.

  I should have requested to look after some ugly old man, he thought to himself. Or at least made sure I had a stable relationship before entering this arrangement. She was making it hard for him to keep throwing up walls between his reason and slowly blossoming desire.

  He also might have needed to… relieve himself at night, when his thoughts started leaning toward what might happen if he got up from bed, prowled over to her side of the room, and took things further. Much further.

  He had the self-control not to do that, but god if it wasn’t tempting at times. Like that other day, when she had stumbled when walking, and he automatically helped to scoop her up, and for an instant, her body was pressed against his, warm and soft and pliable. Morgana was close enough to smell strongly of whatever shampoo and perfume she’d decided to layer on herself, for him to see a few split hairs in her dark red hair. Close enough for all the important details.

  The moment itself was brief, but it lingered in his mind for longer than it should have.

  He also felt a crawling sense of guilt for even finding Morgana attractive. She still all too much resembled Fela, and she was the one he failed. Plus, Morgana was in a far more dangerous situation than Fela had ever been in. No accidental beatings by reckless schoolchildren. More like dodgy underworld dealings with deadring gangsters and traffickers, at the mercy of their wrath if ever their identity became unraveled and it was revealed that she worked with the police. Which was also why Morgana was not allowed to visit the police station. Just on the off chance someone might recognize her, even without the mask, and put two and two together.

  Rosen Grieves and Amelia Hargraves visited Morgana instead to share updates from both sides of the spectrum. Like now, as Rosen plonked herself upon Morgana’s bed, handing a document over to her fellow necromancer.

  “We’ve had yet another body stolen. This time it’s Iretha One-Eye.”

  Theon let out a gasp of indignation. “Are you kidding me right now?” The first confirmed bear shifter in the world... “His body was in Stoneshire?”

  “Museum transferal,” Rosen said. “They almost got their hand on Ramesses the Second, too. Ozymandias himself, king of kings. Luckily the security wasn’t completely incompetent, so they kept that one.”

  “Though I doubt his soul would still be around, would it?”

  “It’s not,�
� Rosen confirmed. “They asked me to check. They were interested in interviewing it otherwise. There are a few historical facts people want to get lined up.”

  “Iretha One-Eye. The shifter community must be outraged,” Morgana mused, and Rosen nodded and sighed.

  “Oh, they’re furious, alright. There was reluctance to even loan the body in the first place.” Rosen made a tch sound with her tongue and teeth. “Speculation remains that Iretha still had his spirit, but it’s not fully confirmed.”

  Theon could almost guarantee that his family would freak out from hearing about the robbery of something so old and so sacred. He also didn’t expect these kinds of robberies to help reflect the necromancers in a better light, either, if people figured out that the bodies were being used in illegal deadrings instead, their souls caged and fighting for other people’s entertainment.

  “We have to do something about this,” Theon growled. “They can’t be allowed to get away with theft. And people really don’t have any leads at all?”

  “People don’t tend to watch graveyards as intently as, say, banks and shops. The museum, though—we’re hoping we’ll be able to unearth something in the security tapes. Anything, really.”

  Theon still felt an echo of incredulity that people were able to do something so morally corrupt and get away with it. It made him realize even more just how important the work was that Morgana committed herself to. It also made him more determined to help in whatever way he could.

  After that news was broken, with Morgana left to her own devices, she turned and gave him an awkward pat on the arm. “You seemed pretty mad earlier with everything we were talking about. Is this… is it in any way personal?”

  “No, not really. And I wasn’t mad about something like that.” Just mad for looking at you like a woman. For thinking things I shouldn’t be thinking about.

  She was his case, just like this project was her case. Some mysterious necromancer shipped in all the way from Ireland, with roots in America, though never allowed to explore them. Stuffed out of sight like a doll. She might look like Fela Norman, but she’s nothing like her.

  “Can I ask what?”

  “Nothing to do with you, don’t worry,” he lied, though that only caused her face to crunch up in more suspicion and confusion than before. He didn’t really see his reasons being formed into tangible words in front of her, though. He also didn’t want to dwell on it for too long, in case the bear within started getting ideas. Sometimes the instincts plowed into his brain out of nowhere, making them hard to resist at the worst of times.

  Still wearing that slight confusion, Morgana said, “We’ll fetch back those bones, somehow. They’ll want me to keep exploring this avenue, to see if I can find out if anyone in the deadrings is actually using the corpses. Preferably before they realize what I’m doing and kill me.” She laughed nervously. “I already revealed my face once, though. Some sharp-eyed person is probably going to use that to attempt to trace me. And maybe I should have worn a wig. A blond one or something.”

  He halted her in her babble before she became too frazzled. “Relax. You’ll be fine. You’ve got a kick-ass spirit.”

  “And I don’t even know what kind of spirit she is,” Morgana said softly. “She’s something I plucked out, something that turned out to be much better than anticipated, but I’ve honestly never seen anything like her before.”

  “Is that really true?”

  Morgana opened her mouth to say something, then hesitated. “I’m not sure.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because...” She looked at him with those magnetic brown eyes of hers and he became lost in them for a moment, to the point where he barely heard her next words. “Because I’ve never really specifically looked for anything like her before. Maybe I’ve passed others like Beverly, but I didn’t know. She was on the first layer,” Morgana said, now more confused than ever.

  “Sorry, what?” He blinked out of his staring. “First layer?”

  “All the friendly spirits are on the first layer. Animals, innocents. There are many of them, and generally they’re easy to manipulate. They offer no challenge. Any necromancer worth their salt knows to explore beyond this eventually if they want to encounter the more interesting spirits.”

  “Sounds like it’s the kiddy pool,” Theon observed. “And you found this spirit in the kiddy pool?”

  “I’m not sure about that analogy,” Morgana said in a flat voice, one unimpressed eyebrow twitched up. “But sure. Whatever. She was there.”

  “And you guys skip this layer?”

  “Yes and no. But mostly, yes...”

  Theon supposed she was now sweating over the fact she’d never really paid attention. Probably imagining all the Beverly-esque spirits that had passed her by in all her years of life.

  “Did you approach her or did she come to you?” he asked, and now Morgana fell even more silent.

  “She… came to me.” Her eyes were wide. “I saw her, yes, but she was heading my way before then.”

  “So she wanted to be found. Maybe her type of spirit’s good at hiding?”

  His explanation slipped into Morgana’s head, and eventually, some of the tension left, and she seemed to accept it. “That makes sense. Though it still begs the question as to why someone like her chose me.”

  “You might have to ask the spirit that.”

  “She’s not the most forthcoming. Just her whole I swore an oath thing going on.”

  The conversation broke off after that, going into safer waters. It wasn’t until later on, when Morgana formally received a message on her phone from Regal himself about the next event, that she once more boiled herself up in anxiety.

  “He’s inviting me personally,” she stammered, pointing at the message, on which Regal had signed his name. “And it’s an event in two days. Not a month.”

  “I guess he’s the one who organizes for the big bucks,” Theon said, though he also felt alarmed at the message. It was too soon. It stank of a possible stitch up, but the only thing they could do would be to attend. Because if they didn’t, especially after Morgana had confessed her “desire” to become top dog, it would be odd for her to suddenly refuse. And refusing Regal’s invitation would be taken as a slight, no matter the excuse.

  “Well, screw him and his big bucks,” Morgana said, now flopping lifelessly on her bed. “I’m going, but if I’m fighting him...”

  “Then perhaps you should lose,” Theon finished. “That is, if he doesn’t politely ask you to lose first.”

  “He sort of already did in our last conversation,” Morgana said, tilting her head to face him, light brown eyes locked with his. “You were there for it, if I recall.” Theon became acutely aware of how she looked, all sprawled out in a tired mess upon the bed, hair disheveled, sleeves slightly rolled up to expose bare flesh on her arms, and her beautiful neck so exposed that a mad impulse took his brain to kiss it and suck until the skin bruised.

  He swallowed that impulse fast, before it translated into something far to visceral and real.

  “Want me to grab you a drink?” he said, feeling his nostrils flare slightly, hoping his internal alarm didn’t show too obviously upon his face. “You seem pretty tuckered out.”

  “No, no, I’ll be fine, I just need a moment.” She waved off his offer, but he took it upon himself to bring two drinks anyway, so it could be either two for him or one each. “Sure hope you’re not trying to force me to get drunk,” she accused lightly, and he smiled in response.

  “It’s whatever you want it to be. Right now, I think we should take our minds off the business. You might be scooped up by some evil underlord in two days’ time, so why not enjoy what you have now?”

  “Good point,” she said, and crawled over to take the bottle he’d presented. Drinks were good, because they gave people something to do when they were searching for conversation, or helped to relax in another’s presence without necessarily feeling the pressure to talk. He had a few mixed intentio
ns about the whole business. Get Morgana to relax. Get to know her better. And dance with that desire in his brain, without fully revealing it to her.

  She stretched out languorously, like a cat, affording him quite a nice view of her body, and a hint of exposed stomach from the bottom of her top. His eyes locked onto that new area like homing missiles, and he had to beat back a savage cacophony of voices telling him to ply the situation further, to force her against the sheets and pin down her arms.

  That’d be a sure way to get fired.

  “You don’t actually have to touch the drink if you don’t want to,” he said. “I realize maybe that was being a little too pushy.”

  “I don’t mind. Really. Just don’t want to seem too eager to spend time with you,” she said, and he chuckled.

  “Afraid it might appear as if you like me? Shouldn’t be afraid of that. Act like how you want, seriously.”

  A faint blush appeared on those cheeks. “Oh, no. Nothing like that. It’s—you’re a bodyguard, I’m a necromancer—just want to be professional about the whole business...”

  “Do you?” The challenge slipped out of his mouth before he could stop it. Then he decided to sit with it and pretend he intended it all along. “Want to be professional?”

  “Of course. Don’t you?”

  “What does that mean, exactly? Not having any personal conversations at all? Just sticking to a nice, normal routine and going back to your family in the evening?”

  “Okay, fine,” Morgana snapped. “I want to seem professional to other people. Even if I’m not. Happy?”

  He raised up his hands in a gesture of surrender. “Hey, hey, I’m just asking questions.”

  “You’re an annoying man, you know that?” she said, giving him a whiplash glare, before popping open her drink and beginning to sip at it. Much slower, more sensuously than anyone had a right to. Was she aware of what she looked like? “But sure. I am concerned of how other people see me. I want them to see someone good, you know? So I do hope they won’t find out about this case, that I exploited someone in an illegal deadring and generally turned out to be exactly what they believe necromancers to be.”