Shifters of the Wellsprings: The Complete Paranormal Collection

by Leela Ash

  Start with the worst, right? Gloves on, mop and clean the bathroom. After that, the rest of the work would all be downhill. That was the theory anyway. But when she turned to the ‘easy’ chore (making the beds) she found that life had left her a little surprise. One of 415’s guests had vomited on a pillow then kicked it away.

  Paige stared at the soiled pillow and at the smear staining the wall, and then she counted to ten.

  I need this job… I need this job… I need this job…

  When the urge to quit faded away, she stripped the bed and fetched a spare pillow from the closet.

  Each room at Ancient Ways came with a good-sized closet. 415’s was full to the brim. A large object filled it, high as her chest and covered by a sheet.

  Weird. And none of her business, but….

  Paige popped her head into the hall. Seeing no one, she returned to the closet and peeked under the cover.

  The mysterious object wasn’t one big thing. It was a huge stack of plastic totes. Half were empty, half filled with packing peanuts. One, on the top, was only partially full. Curious, she popped the lid and glanced inside.

  A dozen tiny animal carvings lay on top of the peanuts, each in its own plastic bag. Next to them, the edge of a pot stuck out of the packing. Black spirals and lines swirled across its pale grey surface.

  Zuni fetishes and Puebloan pots! Paige’s eyes widened in shock. This is a fortune in antiquities!

  But where was the documentation? The papers that described where the item had been found? Any legitimate collector demanded that.

  Only thieves didn’t care. Her heart skipped a beat as she pawed through the tote. No papers, no tags to identify the individual objects. Just valuable ‘stuff’ tossed in boxes.

  ‘Stuff’ taken from sites like the Sweetwater ruins.

  This couldn’t be a coincidence! Shivering, she covered the boxes and backed out. Rex needed to know. Maybe these were the people who summoned that demonic thing that attacked them. She needed to call him….

  But for that, she needed his phone number. Why hadn’t she asked for it?

  Because that seemed wrong after…well, what happened. If he wanted to talk to me again, he would have offered it.

  Not a problem. Paige knew someone who could call the Bear.

  “Mrs. Gordon!”

  Her supervisor frowned at Paige over the day’s paperwork. “Miss Hall. Surely, you’re not done already?”

  “No, but there’s a problem with 415.”

  “And I expect you to clean that problem up!” the woman hissed. “Yes, yes, I know they’re messy. Candy and Sara both whined about them last week. But they did their jobs. Something I expect from you, too, no matter who you think you are.”

  Once more, Paige clenched her teeth and ignored the jibe. “You don’t understand. They’re stealing Indian artifacts. Their closet is full of them!”

  Mrs. Gordon’s eyes lit with outrage. Aimed, unfortunately, at the wrong target. “What were you doing rifling through guests’ belongings? Why, I should call the police on you!”

  “I had to get a pillow and I…I saw them.”

  “How do you know they’re not legal?” her boss sniffed.

  “They don’t have proper papers.”

  “Oh really? And you just saw that? Without digging through a guest’s belongings?”

  Okay, that was a problem. But so what? If she’d uncovered the people behind that blob, Rex wouldn’t care about little details like that.

  “You need to call Mr. Fairburn and tell him.”

  “Do I?” A faint smirk curled the corners of the woman’s lips. “Why? Didn’t he give you his number? How strange.”

  Each insult felt like a slap in the face. “Listen, we went hiking yesterday, and Rex… Mr. Fairburn was very worried about people stealing pots from Indian ruins. You need to let him know.”

  Mrs. Gordon folded her arms and scowled. “Call the police if you think they’re stolen. Just don’t expect me to vouch that you’re not a thief.”

  “LISTEN TO ME!” Paige screamed.

  Both of them fell silent, shocked by her outburst. An urge to run, to flee this embarrassment, welled up within her, but Paige refused to back down. “You’re going to call Mr. Fairburn, right now, and tell him about this. If you don’t, I will stop by his house and tell him myself. And I will also tell him that it was you who withheld this information from him!”

  Eyes narrowed, fuming, Mrs. Gordon glared at her. Paige began to fear that the woman would call her bluff. That she’d have to walk out of her job–the job she desperately needed. In the end, though, her supervisor rose stiffly to her feet. “As you will, Miss Hall.”

  She retreated to her office, slamming the door behind her. A minute later, Paige heard the buzz of her voice, too low to understand. Hard as it was, she forced herself to wait.

  When her boss stepped out, the disdain on her face sent Paige’s heart plummeting. “Mr. Fairburn says not to worry about 415. He knows the guests and is aware of their collection. Their legitimate collection.”

  That couldn’t be! Even an amateur like her knew you didn’t just rip pots out of the ground and toss them in boxes.

  “But….”

  “No ‘buts’,” Mrs. Gordon yelled, her thin voice rising to a screech. “Now get back to work. Or quit. Personally, I don’t care which you do.”

  Dazed, Paige trudged back to the fourth floor. This couldn’t be right. Rex wouldn’t support this kind of thievery, would he?

  Though….

  How well did she really know him? Being a good… no, a fantastic lover didn’t make a man trustworthy.

  No, she couldn’t believe that. The pride in his voice when he praised her ‘bravery’… the outrage in his face when he saw the defiled sipapu. That couldn’t be fake.

  Maybe he just didn’t understand. Maybe Mrs. Gordon made it sound like 415 had taken a couple of pot shards rather than a hundred priceless artifacts. With pictures she could go over tonight….

  …and see him again….

  That thought, unbidden, brought a flush of warmth to her face. A heat very different from the burning shame that Mrs. Gordon summoned.

  Well, yes, she’d see him again. Briefly. And she could show him that this was serious.

  She had to clean 415 anyway. That, or lose her job.

  The whole, huge, steaming mess waited for her as she re-entered the room. At least fresh air had taken the edge off the stench of pot and pee. Paige closed the door. It seemed a reasonable precaution, even if the cleaning staff wasn’t supposed to do it. Then she opened the closet, took the lid off the top tote, and dug her phone out of her pocket.

  “What the hell are you doing?” growled a low, menacing male voice.

  Right behind her.

  Paige shrieked and the phone tumbled to the floor.

  One of the 415 guests had returned–and he wasn’t happy to see her pawing through his stuff. At first glance, he didn’t look threatening. Neat blue polo shirt, white cotton pants, a nice pair of leather shoes. Nothing to set him apart from the other guests of Ancient Ways. Sure, the arms revealed by that shirt boasted ripped, wiry muscles. Still, he could have been any of the New Age tourists that flooded the resort’s halls.

  Until you looked into his eyes. Rage filled them. Violence and a boundless fury that twisted his lips into a feral snarl.

  Under that stare, Paige froze like a deer in headlights. All of her plans and her carefully plotted lies scattered like dandelion seeds in the wind. “C-c-cleaning?” she gulped.

  “Bullshit.” And suddenly, there was a gun in his hand, summoned from some hidden holster. Paige’s knees grew weak as he raised it and pointed it at her face. “Who sent you?”

  “No one! I mean, housekeeping! I’m the cleaning lady!”

  “Then why are you taking pictures of my stuff?”

  “Because they’re, uh, pretty?”

  415 didn’t believe that for a second. “Last chance. Start telling the truth or they’
re going to find your body on the side of the highway.”

  Terror flooded through her, threatening to wash away all rational thought and send her screaming for the door. In its wake, though, came a bitter, twisted thought. One that almost made her laugh.

  And I came here because it was ‘safer’ than LA.

  “What’s so funny?”

  Lord, she was a terrible actor! Desperate, she seized the only ‘weapon’ she had. “You. If you knew what was good for you, you’d be running right now.”

  Her vague threat only amused him. “Uh huh. Why?”

  He had to be tangled up in all of this mess, and if he was, he had to be a Shifter. So….

  Summoning her few rags of courage, Paige straightened and glared back at him. “Before I came up here, I called Rex Fairburn. He’s on his way now. And when he gets here, Rex will tear you apart.”

  “ ‘Rex.’” Her captor’s sneer deepened. “You’re on a first name basis with your boss, huh?”

  “I am.”

  “Girlfriend? Nah, he wouldn’t make a woman he cared for clean rooms. Mistress?” Paige blushed at the contempt in that word. “Gotcha. Mistress.”

  “When he shows up−”

  “Shut up, woman. You didn’t call him.”

  “That’s not true!”

  “If you had, you wouldn’t be here.” Patience dripped from his words, but that gun never wavered. “Mr. Fairburn would have told you to mind your own business. He’s our partner.”

  That was almost what Mrs. Gordon had said! Paige felt the world tilt beneath her feet. Was Rex truly a villain? He’d seemed so shocked by the vandalism they saw. That couldn’t be an act… could it?

  Her heart said no.

  Then again, she was a lousy judge of men. Why should Rex be any better than Leonard?

  415 grinned at the shock in her face. “That’s what I thought. You stepped in this shit all on your own. Probably trying to impress Fairburn or something stupid like that. Okay, so listen. If you do exactly what I tell you, you’ll get out of this alive. I would prefer not to shoot Fairburn’s side chick. But you screw with me and I will do it. Understand?”

  Shivering, Paige nodded.

  “Good. Now come in and sit down on the bed. I need to make a couple calls.”

  Dazed and numb, she obeyed. 415 pulled a chair to the edge of the hallway, blocking the one exit. Then he dialed a number, his gun still aimed directly at her.

  “Mr. Vaughn? This is Novak. We have a situation. Turns out that Fairburn’s screwing some of his cleaning staff. One of these air-heads spotted our collection and decided to take pictures. I caught her–what do you want me to do?”

  The answer was short and quick–and she couldn’t hear a word of it. “Will do. Thanks.”

  Heart pounding, Paige waited to hear her fate. Novak watched her, savoring the fear she couldn’t hide. Just when she’d decided to jump out the window and take her chances with the four-story drop, he yawned. “Sit tight. My boss is sending a fixer to clean this mess up.”

  Wasn’t ‘fixer’ another word for ‘assassin’? At least in the movies, anyway. “What is he going to do?”

  “Probably move our collection.” A flash of irritation glittered in his eyes. “Keep yapping at me, though, and he’ll have to dispose of a body too.”

  Okay. She could take a hint. Paige leaned back against the headboard and waited.

  Ten minutes later, someone let themselves into the room. Novak stood to let a scrawny man slip past. Nothing about the newcomer caught the eye, not his thin, pinched lips, pock-marked face, or dull tan clothes. “That her phone on the floor back there?”

  Novak nodded. He walked to the head of the bed, but, to her great relief, set his gun down on the tv before he came over. That relief only lasted a second. Quick as a rattlesnake, his hand lashed out and clamped across her mouth. With practiced ease, he pinned her to the bed and called out, “There’s some cord in the closet. Grab that for me, would you?”

  Frantically, Paige clawed at his arms, her nails digging red lines down his arm. Novak’s eyes glittered, as if he enjoyed the struggle. “Hey, I wasn’t lying when I said I didn’t want to shoot you. Too much blood. Pisses the fixer off. Strangling’s a lot neater.”

  The fixer wandered around the corner, her phone in his hand. “We aren’t killing her.”

  Relief flooded her and her desperate struggle petered out. That news didn’t please Novak, though. “Why the hell not?”

  “Boss said not to. Though,” his faded eyes met hers and Paige saw a glint of malice in them, “if she doesn’t cooperate, I am authorized to change that. What’s your phone’s password, ma’am?”

  Novak’s grip didn’t relent one bit and she felt her teeth cut into her own lip. “This is insane. Killing her is the easiest route.”

  “Boss has other plans and I don’t sass him. Now, get your hand off her mouth so she can tell me her password.” The skinny man glanced back at her and added, “Scream, and I’ll let him kill you. Understood?”

  Paige nodded weakly. As Novak released her, she scrambled away. The coppery taste of blood filled her mouth.

  “Password?”

  “1218.” December 18th. Jake’s birthday.

  The fixer typed it in and flipped through her apps. Novak began to pace back and forth like a caged wolf. “What are we doing?”

  “I’m fixing things. You’re sitting down and shutting up.”

  Denied an opportunity for murder, Novak retrieved his gun and sat, glaring at her. Paige waited and prayed.

  After a couple minutes, the small man smiled. “Well, good. I think I can sort this out without killing anybody. Just like the boss wants.”

  Novak’s eyes lit with outrage. “Why the hell does a worm give a shit about one stupid maid?”

  ‘Worm.’ Even in her fear, Paige noted that word. What a strange, contemptuous thing to call your boss!

  The fixer didn’t object to it. “Why don’t you ask him?” he jeered. “Go on. Tell him he’s wrong. Just let me know when you’re gonna do it, though, because I want to watch him tear you to pieces.”

  The two men glowered at each other in open loathing. It sickened her to think of these monsters, these villains, working with Rex. Yet, impossible as it seemed, Paige couldn’t dismiss the idea.

  In the end, Novak turned away, spitting on the floor.

  Smirking, the fixer addressed his words to her. “I’m leaving now. Probably take me an hour or two to straighten this out. You need to sit here, calm and quiet. If you do, you’ll walk out unharmed, okay?” She nodded, trembling. His gaze hardened as he turned to Novak. “Your job is to keep her quiet–and alive. If she ends up dead while I’m gone, I’ve got permission to kill you.”

  Novak threw his head back and barked with laughter. “I’d like to see you try!”

  “You wouldn’t. ‘Cause I’d do it from a quarter mile away, with a sniper rifle.”

  That wiped the grin off her captor’s face. Though it didn’t do much to settle Paige’s nerves.

  “Trust me,” the fixer said. The guy with the oh-so-untrustworthy face. “Everybody stay calm and we all get to live long, happy lives. Sound good?”

  Sounded good to her! Paige nodded. Novak scowled.

  The next hour and a half were agony. Those ninety minutes ticked by at a glacial pace. Novak stalked about the room, snarling and muttering to himself. On every pass, she was sure he’d change his mind and kill her out of sheer frustration. Curled in a ball, Paige stayed as still as a mouse, watching the seconds and minutes crawl by.

  Ages later, a soft click announced the return of the fixer. To her relief (and Novak’s irritation), the small man smiled as he entered the room. “Done. You’re free to go, Miss Hall.”

  “The hell she is!” Snarling with outrage, Novak bolted to his feet. “You can’t seriously think we can just let her walk out of here.”

  “We can. And here’s why.” One look at his calm, narrow face warned her that the worst was still to com
e. “Miss Hall, I left your phone on your kitchen table.”

  On her… Wait. He’d gone to her house? Paige’s eyes widened in horror.

  The small man nodded. “You know where this is going. Your son Jake is no longer at your neighbor Judy’s house.”

  ‘Common sense’ and all thoughts of self-preservation flew from her mind. Paige scrambled to her feet and slapped the man as hard as she could. “Where is he?”

  Novak burst out laughing. The fixer just scowled. “Someplace safe. Hit me again and that will change.” Hands clenching and opening, she glared at him, torn between rage and despair. “Do you want to see your son again, Miss Hall?”

  “Yes,” she groaned, fighting tears.

  “Then you need to get yourself under control. Your son’s fate depends on your behavior. Sit down.”

  Shaking with rage, she sank to the bed.

  “Thank you. Here’s how you keep your boy safe. You walk out of this room and go straight home. If your supervisor calls, you blow her off. Say you’re sick. Quit. I don’t care. Just don’t come back to this place for any reason.”

  This morning, losing her job seemed like a catastrophe. Now, she didn’t care. She knew what real disaster looked like.

  “In a week or two, when we’re done here, I’ll give you a call. If you’ve been cooperative, I’ll give you the name of a rest area where you can go and pick your son up, safe and sound. No one will get hurt. You’ll never see us again. End of story.”

  Novak shook his head in disgust. “I still don’t get why we don’t just throttle her and dump her body someplace.”

  “Because you’re not in charge,” the fixer murmured. His beady eyes never left her face. “One more thing, Miss Hall. It probably goes without saying, but I’m going to spell it out just in case: don’t tell anyone about this. If you go to the police… if you whine to Mr. Fairburn… if you even berate your neighbor for not watching your son closely… you will never see your boy again. Understand?”

  Oh, she understood. Novak didn’t leave her any delusions about how terrible these people were.

  Sick and shaking, Paige nodded.