Graveyard Shift

by Jenn Burke

  “You could learn.” Tears brimmed in her eyes.

  “We want you to be able to run without worrying about a park warden finding you. Did you hear what Josie said about their land? They’ve got thousands of acres of nothing but wilderness. It’ll be amazing.”

  Some of the tears fell. “But—”

  We heard a car pull up into the driveway. Lexi glanced out the window. “They’re here.”

  Sam turned her face into Lexi’s chest. “I’m not ready!”

  “Hey.” I tugged on her arm until she looked at me. “I’m a phone call away. I can be there instantly if you need me. You know that, right?”

  She nodded.

  “I’m your safety net. You give this your best shot—and I mean that, no half-assed attempts to fit in—and if it doesn’t work, call me.”

  “What if I’m missing you?”

  “Call me then too. Or call Hudson, or Lexi, or any of us. We’d love to hear from you.” The doorbell rang, but we all ignored it for the moment. “You’re so strong, Sam. Remember that. You survived, and your clan would be so proud of how well you’ve done. Your family definitely is.”

  She pressed her lips into a thin line and nodded before swiping her hand over her eyes. “Okay,” she breathed. Then, louder, “Okay.”

  I straightened. “It’s a new adventure.”

  “A new adventure,” she echoed. “And a safety net.”

  “Always.”

  Then we opened the door.

  * * *

  Alleys wasn’t open to the public again yet, but Don let us hold our first vampire/shifter summit there. I wasn’t sure what to think when Hudson suggested it. I mean, two short months ago, some of these vampires had actively hunted shifters, and we were bringing them into a shifter bar? But Hud had been meeting one-on-one with his new band, getting to know them, and he assured me everything would be fine.

  The vampires filed in in ones and twos. Most of them looked average, some young, some middle-aged. A few had embraced the whole vampire mystique thing, with dyed black hair and heavy makeup, but they were in the minority. The shifters were dressed in varying levels of casual, but some of them sported more daring looks too. Seeing the vamps and the shifters mingling together brought it home that we all were, essentially, the same.

  I leaned to the side and nudged Hudson’s upper arm with my shoulder. “Okay, maybe you were right.”

  He gave me his familiar crooked grin. “I told you.”

  Don pushed a glass of white wine over the counter for me, since I’d finally confessed I wasn’t a beer drinker, and a pint of beer for Hudson. “You thought we’d have another epic battle on our hands?”

  I shrugged, picking up the wine. “It had crossed my mind.”

  “Nah. I never would’ve agreed to it. One out-and-out brawl in my place is enough for me.” He braced an elbow on the bar. “Hud’s a good influence. Stabilizing. There’s no crazy to filter down to the young’uns.”

  “Just grumpiness.” I lifted my glass for a toast, and Don didn’t leave me hanging.

  Hudson scowled. “Hey!”

  Laughing, I pressed a kiss to Hud’s biceps before he stalked away to chat up some of our guests. Don headed off down the bar to serve another customer, leaving me to my own devices for a moment. The murmur of conversation was loud, battling with the background music of classic rock, but it was a comforting atmosphere. This was a good space, despite the violence it had seen, and I wondered if maybe Toronto’s vampire population would develop a taste for bowling.

  Priya appeared and leaned against the bar beside me. “Bit of a crowd, innit?”

  Though she—clearly—was neither a vampire nor a shifter, she was part of our paranormal family, and I couldn’t imagine leaving her at home. Lexi would be here too, if it wasn’t for her being back at work. “More people than I thought, for sure.”

  She shifted position so her back was to the bar, her elbows braced on it. “That’s good, though, yeah? The more bridges we can build...” She grew pensive for a moment, then shrugged it off. “It’s all good.”

  “What are you thinking about?”

  She flashed a rueful grin. “My dad. After seeing what you lot went through, losing Iskander...it brought it home, yeah? What I’d done.”

  “You could reach out.”

  “He’ll be pissed.”

  “Well, yeah. You have to be prepared for the fact that he might not forgive you. But isn’t taking the chance worth it?”

  “Bloody hell, I don’t know.”

  Across the room, Hudson laughed at something and the echo of humor across our bond brought a smile to my lips. “Both you and Hudson owe Lance the truth. You shouldn’t throw family away because it’s inconvenient.”

  “That’s not—” She scrubbed a hand through her hair. “Bugger, maybe it is what I did.”

  “Let’s sit down tomorrow, you, me and Hudson, and figure it out, okay?” My brain was already piecing together the steps we’d need to take, what we’d need to do, and what I would have to say to convince Hudson this was the right course of action.

  “Right. Tomorrow it is. Now I need a beer. Oi, Don!” She headed down to the other end of the bar to get Don’s attention.

  I cast my gaze around, looking for familiar faces. The news of Wes Cooper’s “death” had spread through the paranormal community, and pretty much everyone had taken my quasi-resurrection and new name in stride. The city had finally fessed up to Lexi that they couldn’t find my body and, as I suspected, offered an out-of-court settlement to keep the news quiet. Lexi had directed them to send the money to the police widows and orphans fund. Wes Cooper’s obituary had run in the paper a couple of weeks ago, and Lexi had fielded more than a few phone calls from friends. The humans who were part of my circle of believers were let in on the secret, but to everyone else, Wes Cooper was dead. Taggart Westerson was here to help Hudson run his company...especially now that Iskander was gone.

  I spotted Juanita and Victor Garcia, Isabel’s parents, and made my way through the crowd to them. Juanita surprised me with a hug, and Victor slapped my shoulder enthusiastically enough to make me stumble forward a step. I barely managed to keep from spilling my wine.

  Juanita stepped out of the hug, but followed it up with a kiss to both of my cheeks. “I can’t thank you enough.”

  “I wish I—”

  She cupped my chin. “None of that. Wishing for the impossible will drive you insane. You did everything we asked—you found her and you brought her killer to justice. Gracias, gracias.”

  After a few more minutes of small talk, I moved on. A shout made me freeze in my tracks. It wasn’t directed at me—at least, I didn’t think it was—but the tone and volume made me think shit was about to go down.

  Colin, the shifter we’d rescued from vampire stalkers, was staring down one of those stalkers right now. The one he’d taken out of the fight before we’d gotten there. He didn’t look happy, and neither did she. People around them had turned to watch, anticipating drama, and the calm atmosphere suddenly had tension arcing through it.

  Crap.

  I started in their direction as the vampire opened her mouth.

  Double crap.

  “You’re the shifter we chased down Walmer, aren’t you?”

  “Yes.” There was more than a little of his wolf in Colin’s voice.

  “I am so sorry.”

  He blinked. “What?”

  I slowed to a stop, as surprised as he was to hear an apology.

  “We were so hungry, and Pike had conditioned us to find shifters. It felt like he was always in our heads.”

  “Oh.” Colin’s ire was completely diffused at this point. He’d have to be a complete asshole to remain pissed in the face of her earnestness. “But, uh, you’re better now?”

  “So much better. Hudson has taught us so
much.” She stuck out her hand. “I’m Nadia.”

  “Colin,” he replied, taking her hand. “You, uh, want to try a game?” He nodded in the direction of the lanes. There were a few still open.

  “Sure!”

  Nadia bounced toward a lane, Colin following along, and I downed the rest of my wine in relief. Maybe I’d have to give Hudson more praise for this idea than a grudging “not bad.”

  I turned back to the bar, thinking I’d get a refill, when I saw Evan standing by himself. His hands were shoved in the pockets of his jeans, and he didn’t seem to be looking at much of anything. Everyone else gave him a wide berth, as though the miasma of sadness coming off him was a tangible thing pushing them away.

  As I approached, he looked up. His more-gray-than-blue eyes were tired and dull. He hadn’t retreated into a full-on depressive episode yet, but he’d come close. We were giving him space to heal, acknowledging that there were some days where the smallest task was too much for him. Dr. Kozlow was helping too. So far, the okay days outweighed the super bad days, so I’d take it. “What’s up?”

  He shrugged. “Quite the group, huh?”

  I looked out over the crowd, happy to see more smiles than frowns, more laughter than disagreements. “Bigger than I expected.”

  “There are more vampires in town than this.”

  “Shifters too. But it’s a start, right?”

  He smirked. “Did you hear what some people are calling Hud?”

  “Uh, ‘Hud’?”

  He rolled his eyes. “No. ‘The Vampire King.’”

  I snorted out a laugh. “He’s going to love that.” And by love, I meant the exact opposite. I predicted more grumbling in my near future.

  I thought for a second that Evan was going to let himself smile, for real, but the sardonic smirk fell away, leaving his expression on the down side of blank again. “I can’t remember where he fell.”

  All my laughter drained away. “Oh, Ev.”

  “I think it was near here. But there’s no sign.”

  “That’s good, though, right?” I grasped one of his shoulders and squeezed. “Where he died isn’t as important as how he lived.”

  Evan’s jaw worked as he fought back his emotions and he nodded. “You’re right.”

  “The only part of him that’s left on this plane is in our hearts. And that travels with us wherever we go.”

  He squinted at me. “You’re right, but what the hell? Are you trying out for a sympathy card writer? Life coach? What?”

  I smacked the back of his head. “Asshole.”

  The music suddenly died down and the harsh sound of someone blowing on a microphone screeched over the speakers.

  “Well, I guess that answers the question of whether this is on,” Hudson said from beside the bar. Chuckles rose up over the crowd. “Okay, now that I know you all can hear me—Taggart Mitchell Westerson, formerly known as Wes Cooper, c’mon down.”

  I frowned. What the hell was he up to? Hesitantly, I wove through the crowd to his side.

  “There he is. Good. Okay, everyone—in case you didn’t know, this is Wes. My boyfriend.” He wrinkled his nose. “I hate that label.”

  Yeah, yeah. That was one of his great laments.

  “Wave to the crowd, Wes.”

  “Are you serious?” I whispered.

  “Yes. Wave.” The gathering laughed again as the mic picked up Hud’s exasperation. I gave a little wave. “There we go. Thank you.”

  He turned back to the crowd, and only I heard the deep breath he took. “You’re all probably wondering why Don let me have this mic. It’s not because I’m the ‘Vampire King’—yes, I’ve heard that being whispered, and it’s a bullshit title. Stop using it.” He cleared his throat. “Mostly I wanted to make sure you all knew who Wes was. I wanted to make sure that Wes knew who Wes was too. To me, I mean.”

  Uh...what? I bit back a smile.

  “I met Wes on a rainy day in 1980. I wasn’t a vampire yet, but Wes looked the same as he does now—except with blond hair and no beard. We were in a grocery store and kept bumping into each other, and for the first time in my life, I wondered about fate. Something kept pulling us together over the course of that twenty-minute excursion. And it kept pulling us together over the next five years. But then we broke up, and I said to myself, ‘Fuck fate.’” More laughter from the crowd. “You’re laughing, but here’s the thing—I was wrong. Fate wasn’t. I’d gotten a taste of what my life could be with Wes. An appetizer. So when I was ready, and he was ready, and our fates intertwined again, we could share the full meal.”

  He turned to me and shocked the hell out of me by getting down on one knee. “What do you say, Wes? You’re already my mate, but...want to have a full meal with me?”

  Laughter bubbled in my throat, but I kept it contained. Leaning forward, I spoke directly into the mic. “Hudson—and I say this with all the love in my heart—you suck at metaphors.”

  The crowd broke out into uproarious laughter, and I couldn’t help giggling. My heart was light, and my magic kept sparking through me as though it knew I was about to burst with joy.

  “I know.” Hud let out a laughing sigh.

  “Maybe try again without the metaphor?”

  He met my gaze and his tongue popped out to wet his lips. “Wes, will you marry me?”

  I squinted at him. “It’s going to look weird that you’re marrying Wes’s cousin so soon after Wes died.”

  “So we’ll wait a few months for propriety’s sake. But I couldn’t wait to ask.”

  “Everyone is going to be absolutely convinced you’re cradle-robbing. According to my new ID, I’m only twenty-three.” I waggled my brows.

  “If only they knew.” He narrowed his eyes. “Are you going to actually answer me anytime soon? My knee is getting sore.”

  “You can stand up.” I waited until he’d done so and given his leg a shake, then smiled as wide as I could. “Ready for your answer?”

  “Ready.”

  “Like you don’t already know it. Yes. I will.” Then I leapt into his arms.

  The mic hit the floor and squealed, but I didn’t care. Hudson caught me, like I’d known he would—like he always did. My lips fastened over his and we kissed—sealing us together with promises that didn’t need to be spoken. My magic wrapped around the two of us, as though it were a sentient thing giving us a hug, then blasted outward in a wave of happiness.

  “Wow.” Hudson gasped. “Tingly. Is that what it feels like when a god is happy?”

  “No—that’s what it feels like when your fiancé is.” I grinned. “Kiss me again, Hud.”

  And he did.

  * * *

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  Acknowledgments

  Writing is hard on the best of days, and even harder when your family suffers a great loss.

  I want to thank my editor, Deb Nemeth, for her flexibility and understanding when I needed it. Your support made a difficult time a little easier, and I greatly appreciate it.

  Thank you to all of my readers and fellow writers, who offered so many kind words, and continue to enjoy Wes and Hudson’s adventures.

  And as always, thank you to my friends and family for your ongoing love and support. I couldn’t do this without you.

  About the Author

  Jenn Burke has loved out-of-this-world romance since she first read about heroes and heroines kicking butt and falling in love as a preteen. Now that she’s an author, she couldn’
t be happier to bring adventure, romance and sexy times to her readers.

  She’s been called a pocket-sized and puntastic Canadian on social media, and she’ll happily own that label. Jenn lives just outside of Ottawa, Ontario, with her husband and two kids, plus two dogs named after video game characters…because her geekiness knows no bounds.

  Website: JennBurke.com

  Facebook: Facebook.com/Jeralibu

  Twitter: Twitter.com/Jeralibu

  Newsletter: Bit.ly/JennBurkeNewsletter

  Available now from Carina Press and Jenn Burke!

  When an immortal not-ghost thief witnesses a murder on the job, he turns to his ex, a Toronto cop, to help find the killer before he can strike again.

  Read on for an excerpt from

  Not Dead Yet.

  Chapter One

  You’d think I’d recognize murder when I saw it, but I didn’t always put two and two together quickly enough.

  Like that job to retrieve an ill-conceived contract from a downtown Toronto office building. After hours, no one around, and I heard a woman’s passionate cry of “Do me harder, cowboy!” It wasn’t until after I stuck my ghostly head through the office door that I clued in what it meant: my target and his secretary getting their freak on. Twenty years later and I still couldn’t scrub their pony play from my brain.

  Or when, on a bright afternoon in 1933, I’d blithely accepted my lover’s invitation for a daylight meeting—something he’d never asked for before. My only thought was that I’d get extra, unexpected time with Michael.

  In hindsight, I should have expected the gun.

  Murder was the last thing I thought I’d witness in the home of Meredith Montague, an actor and one of Toronto’s elite. The entire Forest Hill mansion dripped elegance, with pale neutral colors accented with white furniture and tons of natural light from giant windows.

  The study in particular was a beautiful, serene space...except for the figures on the floor.