Zero Fox to Give (Misfit Shifters Book 1)

by Rae Foxx

"Hello? Kent?" I tried again, batting away the fog and revealing massive hanging shapes that loomed like shadows in the frozen wonderland. Everything was coated with ice, even the massive carcasses that hung from the ceiling on hooks, each animal in different stages of preparation. Cleavers and butcher’s knives were stuck to magnetic strips above the tables, giving this whole fucking place a real-life horror-story vibe. It was only emphasized by the meat hung or laid over metal tables lined with shavers and cutters, everything coated with frozen blood.

  Well, almost everything.

  That line of green slime extended through the room, weaving between the frozen meat curtains like a treasure hunt to espionage. Espionage that stopped before the biggest door I had ever seen. The shiny silver was a large metal monstrosity that looked like the freezer door from The Shining. I side-stepped the goo and pushed down hard on the clunky lever that protested my entrance with a great groan that sounded like an echo of a bear’s roar that sits in your bones.

  “Kent?” I called again and grabbed a random plastic milk carton-looking thing to keep the door open. No way in hell I was going to die on the other side of this door, frozen to death. I’d seen too many horror movies to know what happened next, and I'd endured too much shit to go down like that.

  I scrunched up my nose at the onslaught of smells in the freezer. Blood, bone, marrow and even the scent of sex lingered in the air.

  But no rot. Maybe the slime wasn't what I had thought at all.

  More carcasses hung from giant hooks suspended from the ceiling. They were all stripped of skin and all that was left were their muscles, held together by those hooks and the bones. One row held flats of beef ribs while complete pig bodies were hung upside down. On metal shelves along the walls, smaller animal carcasses were piled up by species, already skinned and gutted.

  For a place that only had a few predators, they sure did keep a lot of meat.

  “Hey, I’m just here for pig’s blood. No need to pull the Saw routine. Mission accomplished. Scared as fuck over here. Come out, Kent.” I called and again the only answer was my own voice bouncing off the dead bodies and stark ceilings.

  I took one step and then another toward the dripping sound and tried not to throw up. It wasn’t the meat smell or the bodies. It was the impending doom that was currently sitting like an anvil on my chest.

  “Kent!” I called again, my voice echoing back to me in a hollow thud that burrowed down to my stomach. My fox was no longer exhilarated.

  She was quaking, whimpering, and begging me to run.

  It took me a second to realize why. The smell of death and blood was so strong that I hadn't noticed one of the scents wasn't cow or pig or any of the animals here.

  One of them was human.

  A dripping sound echoed from the back of the room, the rhythmic pulse pulling me like a fish on a line as I stepped around the carcasses, following the green trail like Dorothy on her way to hell.

  “Kent?"

  I ducked and swayed to avoid the carcasses that swung as I pushed them away from me, toward the sound of the dripping.

  I half expected a saw to start up and high-pitched scary piano music to begin playing while someone mwa-ha-ha-ha-ed in the corner, rocking back and forth.

  I did not do well with haunted houses.

  As soon as I saw the body hanging from the hook all the way to the back, bright red blood dripping into a steaming pool of red right under it, I screamed at the top of my lungs. I screamed so hard it scratched at the skin of my throat and ripped it raw.

  Forget pig’s blood.

  Shiny shit cookies, Kent was dead.

  13

  Apparently there was a tea for those suffering from the affliction of walking right into a gruesome murder scene, and it smelled like lavender. It even had little, dried apple pieces floating in the top of it.

  Someone had handed me the steaming tea in a styrofoam to-go cup right after I had been escorted into the passenger side of a police truck. I didn’t even know cops had trucks. I guess in small town Cummings Cove they had trucks. Cummings Cove, which had been printed on the side of the vehicle, along with a tagline 'Our Town’s Strength is on the Inside." Which got even worse when the truck door was open and all you could read was "Cum Inside."

  I was really in shock, because I didn't even crack a smile at that.

  Any laugh that may have begun died in my throat as I slid onto the leather seat of the truck that scented like molasses and campfire. I didn't even know what animal had a scent like that, but I didn’t care. Anything was better than the smell that was embedded in my nostrils. I blew on the scalding tea and closed my eyes, trying to let the apple scent wash away the vision of Kent in my mind.

  Closing my eyes, however, was the worst thing.

  I could see him perfectly.

  Lifeless eyes open and staring at nothing. Steel hook splitting his Adam’s apple as blood poured from his open mouth, dripping over his face and onto the floor. dripping.

  Dripping.

  Dripping.

  Drip from the crack in the styrofoam cup from where I held it too tight.

  Drip.

  Drip.

  I would probably hear that dripping in my sleep, and that meat freezer would haunt me for a while.

  I forced my eyes open, staring down at the tea that was slowly draining into my lap from the crack in the bottom and took a sip, finally raising my eyes to the shop as the ambulance arrived and the paramedics rushed out as though they were going to save the guy. It had arrived without sirens of course, because there was no emergency, just picking up a corpse. I was surprised with all the police sirens and bustle that the twins hadn’t come to see what the uproar was. Probably too engrossed in their Tarot card drama to hear.

  "You're too late. Everyone's too late."

  The place had become a drama zone in less than fifteen minutes after I’d called 9-1-1 from the butcher’s phone. You know, after I started screaming and freaking the fuck out. My legs had been jelly, knees knocking together as I made that call. I didn’t even remember what I’d said to the person who answered. All I remember was screaming.

  Maybe that's all I did. Didn't matter, they had received the message loud and clear.

  Cops had swarmed the place in what felt like seconds, they’d put ‘Crime Scene’ tape everywhere, trying to block the entire sidewalk and the entrance to the butcher. Townies were gawking from the edge of the tape line, bobbing left and right trying to get a glimpse of something.

  This murder was probably the only thing that had happened in this town in a decade.

  And, of course, I’d been the one to find it.

  “This is just fucking great,” I said to myself, ignoring the crowd that was whispering to each other, their stares pointed at me. Hell, fingers were pointed at me. I was officially a lube-toting pig-blood freak who had killed their butcher.

  Lights flashed over the crowd in blues and reds as gasps broke out, the doors to Kent's Cuts banging open as the stretcher and blood-soaked shroud were brought out. Kent was in there. Lifeless. Gone. Dead.

  I had to look down.

  "Get out of here!" A voice broke through the chattering gossipers, the deep male boom sending an electrical current through my already fried nerve endings. "Time to head home, folks, do your gawking somewhere else!"

  He continued to yell until the doors to the ambulances were shut with a bang and I jumped, this time collapsing the cup completely and sending the last of my tea into my lap. I didn't even flinch as the heat seeped through my jeans. It was then that I looked up, lights burning my eyes as the cop continued to yell. He was one of the first to arrive and was clearly in charge, and I was pretty sure that it was his truck I was sitting in.

  The musky aroma that clung to the seats suddenly made sense. He looked like an outdoorsy kind of guy. His arms were coiled in muscle, his back rippling with it as he yelled and waved at everyone to leave. Not that they were listening. I knew I’d just seen a dead hanging body in a freezer and
all, but this guy was panting level hot. It was like his uniform was made for making me drool, hugging his ass just right, the fabric stretching over his biceps.

  He turned in my direction, as though he could feel my gaze on him. In a slow, daydream kind of way he pulled down his aviators and stared right into my fucking soul.

  Damn it, what was with this town and people staring at you like they were two steps away from jumping your bones?

  "There is clearly something wrong with you, Scarlet," I grumbled to myself, folding forward to smash my forehead into the dashboard. "First you're hallucinating eyepatch wolves, then you are checking out guy’s asses, oh and don't forget that you found—"

  I was jolted out of my reverie, empty cup flying, when the door opened and Mr. Hot Cop slid into the driver’s seat with a forced grin on his face.

  “Scarlet, is it?” He asked, ignoring my breakdown and instead shuffling papers before he pulled out a pen and began writing something down. Presumably my name.

  “Yeah, Scarlet. That's my name. Scarlet." I rambled on before taking a deep breath, which turned out to be a mistake. The smell of Kent's blood clung to the cop, and the scent smacked me in the face. I whimpered, unable to stop the images of Kent's horrified expression from coming back to mind.

  "Oh, sorry," he mumbled, finally looking at me before turning the knob on the dash and a blast of warm air hit my face, wiping away Kent's murder-scent and replacing it with something else.

  Him.

  He smelled feline and all male, but also somehow of S’mores, which was weird. Sweetness, and campfire, and marshmallows all in one. The scent was a bubbly delight in my chest, which felt all wrong given why he was here.

  He folded up his aviators and placed them in a holder before looking back at me. His deep brown eyes locked me in place. Angry. Worried.

  I knew what he was going to ask. It still made me twitch.

  “Scarlet, I asked what you were doing at the butcher.” He was scribbling something on his paper before he had finished asking his question, before I had even had a chance to answer. It made me all jumpy, and I pulled at my tea-soaked pants in agitation, suddenly understanding how interrogations in cop shows felt.

  “Oh, um," I stuttered, trying to figure out a way to say what I needed to say without sounding one hundred percent crazy. "My aunt asked me to get some pig’s blood for a... science experiment... but when I went in, no one was there." Judging by the look on his face I wasn't succeeding with the whole sanity thing. "My aunt is Poetry. She owns the Vagina.. I mean the Fragile Vag...no, the Vagile Ajna.”

  Yep, I was doing really well.

  He scribbled down some notes on a slim, elongated notebook. “I see." More scribbles. "So when someone isn’t at a business, you just go snooping in the back?”

  The dread in this car was so heavy I was sure I could cut the air, scoop it up, and hand it out like candy from hell.

  "Umm... well.... you see..." I searched for words before making myself take a deep breath. “No, of course not. I saw that trail of green slime on the floor and I don’t know...."

  "Trail of green slime?" He interrupted, asking as though he hadn't seen it. I don't know how he could have missed it. It was everywhere.

  "Yeah," I said crossing my legs and showing him the thick layer that was on the bottom of my shoe. "It was everywhere. I thought it was rot... I thought the butcher had gone to the back and maybe couldn't hear me?” My voice sounded so mousy in that car, as I sat trying to explain myself and just walking myself closer and closer to hell.

  “Okay, so you went to the back and then what? Take me step by step.”

  Oh, god. Step by step? I couldn't even focus beyond a few minutes ago. Why was my lap wet? I didn't know. Maybe I pissed myself.

  "I can't—"

  "I need you to try," The officer interrupted me, giving me one glance and a slight smile that I was sure he thought was supportive. It was heart-stopping; that's what it was. I couldn’t concentrate with his dimples and the shock that still wreaked havoc with my nerves.

  “Ok, um, I went through the area where they cut meat and stuff, but the slime kept going into the freezer. It reminded me of The Shining and I thought maybe the butcher might be locked in there and...” I was rambling but I didn't care. If he wanted to know what had happened, he was going to get it. “I opened the door and went in. Then I heard the sound of drippings. So I followed the sound and the goo to…” I let out a soft scream as the image of Kent's body beat against my memory again, my eyes widening as I stared at him, begging him to just let me go.

  Thankfully, Hot-and-Handcuffed cleared his throat and kept writing things down for a few minutes until he clicked his pen and returned it to his pocket.

  I opened my mouth to ask something, anything to find out what the hell was going on, but a scream ripped through what I was about to say. It was a female scream loud enough to shatter glass. It was distraught and loud as hell.

  “Shit. Becky," He said and we both turned to see a woman, slim, with a cute little sundress on. She was being held up by another cop while she clawed at him, trying to get into the ambulance that was still open, showing everyone the body bag inside. I already knew who that was. His mate. I’d be throwing myself all over the place and screaming too if anything happened to either of my twins.

  “Look, I’d better get back to the scene. I may have more questions for you so just stay put. Keep the heat on if you need it.”

  He patted my arm and I seized, my bones locking in place as he slipped from the truck and left me alone with the heater and a wet lap.

  He nearly ran to the woman who was barely standing up, flailing her arms while tears streamed down her face. The police chief reached her as two cops dragged her to a bench on the sidewalk.

  I watched her cry for only a minute longer before I opened the door, and ran.

  14

  The picturesque town was shrouded in grey as my panic took control and I did the only thing I could think of - I ran back to my boys.

  Luckily it wasn't very far away, but every step felt like agony as I sprinted around one corner and then another. Each step ricocheted through my bones as though I was stepping on tiny bombs, the feeling accentuated by the thunder of my heartbeat in my ears.

  I had killed an Alpha.

  I was being hunted by a wolf.

  I had found a dead body.

  And now I had run from the police officer investigating the murder, which I was sure really helped to prove my innocence.

  I tore open the door of the Vagile Ajna and slammed it behind me, sending bells and crystals crashing against the glass, and pulling the focus of everyone in the store. Poetry looked up from the book she was reading, hastily placing a pipe I had never seen before under the counter. The twins’ shocked expressions popped out from behind a bookcase, Tarot cards flying into the air like someone shredded a huge Tarot card in the sky and its babies were floating down to earth.

  Tarot card babies? Oh, I had to get a fucking grip on myself.

  The twins’ eyes widened when they saw me heaving, back flattened against the door. Sweat beaded down the back of my neck even though my entire body felt like an ice block. My heart thrummed in my chest and threatened to come straight out through my sternum if I didn’t chill the fuck out.

  "Scarlet?" Owen said, shuffling out from behind the bookcase he and Evan had appeared from behind.

  "Kitten, what's wrong?" Evan went the other way, both of them sprinting towards me so fast I was surprised they didn't vault over the obstacles in the tiny cluttered store.

  "I... I just..." Deep breaths, Scarlet. Deep breaths. I’d seen dead bodies before, plenty of them. Hell, I’d killed my share of hybrid fuckers, but that...feet dangling, lifeless.

  There was something different about this. Something different about a grisly murder... I shook my head against the pictures in my head.

  I really needed to get it together.

  “I’m okay,” I finally answered, pushing off of th
e door and making my way across the bookstore in what I hoped was a confident swagger.

  "Good, now give us the pig’s blood so we can get started," Poetry said, already pulling out the book and the pestle that she had out before.

  "See, that's just it, that’s what—" I pulled to a stop halfway to the counter, trying to find the words. How do you announce that you had discovered a murder?

  Oddly enough, it seemed as if Poetry already knew what I was going to say. She sighed, her shoulders sagging as she immediately began to put all of her spell mixing supplies back underneath the counter. She reproduced that same pipe that seemed to be the source of all that skunk smell.

  "Great. Already? I swear it was winter. If I had known, I would have gone on my own." She mumbled to herself. I opened my mouth to ask, but by then the twins had reached me, both of them attempting to pull me into their arms at the same time.

  “Scarlet, seriously, what is going on?"

  “I went to the butcher’s to get the pig’s blood and... Kent’s dead,” I announced, but the twins looked just as confused, Poetry puffed on her pipe and mumbled loud enough that everyone could hear.

  “Damn it, where am I going to get my pig’s blood now?” She muttered and rolled her eyes like the whole murder thing was just another imposition in her life. Nothing about losing the town’s butcher or about me being okay. Just worried about her pig’s blood.

  I leaned against Owen’s shoulder and sighed, taking in his scent and letting both of their touches ease my nervousness. It felt like their fingertips were made of a potent drug, or maybe that was just the smoke that was beginning to fill the room.

  “Who the fuck is Kent? Did you kill him? Do we need to dispose of the body?”

  Oh, god I loved my mates. Evan was ready to get up and go dig a hole somewhere to help me get away with what he thought was a capital crime. With the way he was bouncing and dancing on his toes it was clear he wouldn’t hesitate either.

  “No!" I shrieked, attempting to pull myself away from Owen to go stop Evan, but my blonde heartthrob just held on. "I didn't kill him! I walked in there and... he was dead.” I stuck my tongue out and cocked my head, mimicking the position Kent had. The hooks. Oh, gross the hooks.