Dead Shifter Walking (6 page)

“Who are you to make such demands?” asked the
representative, his waves of insecurity poorly hidden by his
pathetic attempt at abusing his authority.

My smile widened, my confidence bolstered by the
little angel awake and alive behind me. “Darling,” I said, moving
past Mark, Darren, and the goons with a slow walk, “I am the
beginning, the middle, and, if you keep pushing, I will be the end
of your story,” I said softly, never losing my smile.

He took a tentative step back, his shock of
bleach-blond hair rising a bit. Fear and violence were the only
tools I kept with me. “A little birdie said you wanted to take me
and mine away for testing?” I hissed the last word out, my contempt
and disgust pulsing in the air.

He paled as he became flustered. “I am Steven
and I…” he stressed, pulling himself up straight, “was sent by
Master Logan to assess the damage done by you, changing Hannah into
a monster like you. She was sick and on her death bed; you ruined
her,” he hissed back, attempting to meet my hatred with his
own.

Yep, that pushed me over the edge, and I pushed
him over the railing to the floor below, enjoying the terror in his
scream as I landed squarely on his chest; the breaking of his ribs
brought a smile to my face. The all-powerful Steven attempted to
dislodge me, flailing as I looked down at him smugly, feeling his
desperation to get away from me and his anger at his inability to
do so.

“Get off of me, you whore,” he hissed at me as I
stepped off of him.

“Tsk, tsk, Steven, that’s no way to talk to your
superior,” I goaded him, smiling as he pushed into a sitting
position, disgust, hatred, and pain contorting his features.

I distantly heard the pounding on the stairs as
the others took the less dramatic way down. I smiled, watching
Steven writhing on the floor.

“Olivia,” Mark said, keeping Darren behind
him.

“Finish him,” Darren said, deadly serious. The
fucker had just said his daughter was scheduled to die.

I smiled, moving forward gladly.

One of the goons precariously stood between me
and my kill.

“Easy,” he said, holding his hands up in
supplication as his buddy pulled Stevie off the floor. “We didn’t
come here for this.”

I tilted my head. “What did you come here for?”
I asked, genuinely interested.

The man grimaced, his dark eyes looking slightly
embarrassed. “Our official capacity was to see Hannah and judge the
effects of you being present around her.”

“Why the testing?” I asked.

“Steven went a little off the reservation,” he
said meekly with a shrug.

I took a step forward and he held his ground
uncertainly. Leaning forward, I whispered inches from his face, “If
anyone Logan sends steps off the reservation again, he will be
notified by their head on his front lawn.” I leaned back, watching
the sick look on his face.

He nodded once and moved to help his partner
make a quick exit with Steven.

I really need to kill something, I thought, my
fists clenching and unclenching at my sides.

Mark was still on the first floor, watching
me.

“You have issues,” he stated.

I feigned shock, rolling my eyes as I moved past
him upstairs to Hannah and Jerry.

“All clear,” I said, knocking on the door.

Hannah rushed out wrapping her arms around my
knees.

“Olie, you stink,” she proclaimed.

I laughed, heading to a shower.

Chapter 4

The steaming hot water helped sear some of the
irritation from my blood, but it remained just under the surface,
waiting to jump out at any slight misstep.

Jerry handed me my bag as I exited the bathroom
in fresh jeans and a sea-green fitted t-shirt. “We gotta go,” he
stated, moving on.

I trusted him, but I really didn’t like taking
orders. Sitting in the passenger seat, I kept my silence, knowing
full well my irritation wasn’t really at him and I didn’t want to
burn this bridge. Not many people tolerated me as long as Jerry;
that spoke volumes for my nonexistent people skills.

So I sat and watched the countryside pull into
the view, the city replaced by a two lane highway. I felt myself
relax only twenty minutes outside the city limits and, already, I
felt my anger and fear for those I protected begin to dim.

“Where are we headed?” I asked Jerry, shifting
in my seat.

He spared me a glance. “Back to town,” he
answered, pulling a U-turn.

My face must have given it all away. “Something
pretty bad went down while we were protecting Hannah.” He sighed.
“I know you can handle the graphic gore, but for my own sake, I
needed to take a drive.”

“What are you?” I asked him, worried he just
might be able to read my mind.

He gave a halfhearted smile. “Good ol’-fashion
magic dabbler.”

I snorted. “Sounds dangerous.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Hence, why I am your
driver.”

I outright laughed.

An hour later, we were at the county morgue and
I was grateful for the long drive. A stout close-cropped blond man
with deeply embedded crow’s-feet met us at the door.

“Olivia?” He said with no emotion. He had to be
ex-military, standing at a parade rest, his eyes tracking my every
move while managing to also scan the deserted street.

I nodded.

“Detective Mercer; please follow me,” he said,
opening the door and holding it for Jerry and me.

I raised an eyebrow at Jerry, feeling I had
missed something. He shrugged; he was as much in the dark as I
was.

Detective Mercer led us down a maze of barren
and lonely concrete hallways until we finally arrived at a crowded
sterile morgue.

Mercer stopped at the first body, pulling the
sheet back; a young woman stared back at me, her throat ripped
out.

He moved silently to the next, performing the
same menial task and watching me; this one was a male teenager with
his throat ripped out. The next six were exactly the same.

“The show is over,” I said tiredly. “Now’s the
part you tell.”

The corners of Mercer’s eyes clenched, the only
sign I had riled him. “They were killed in their home and drained
of blood by a vampire or vampires. You are now the new liaison
between supernaturals and humans.” He handed me a large file. “Fix
it.”

Glancing down at the thick manila folder he
pressed against my chest, I took the file, my aquamarine glare
never leaving his own challenging sun bleached eyes. He looked away
first; turning, I looked to Jerry’s shocked face.

I suppose he wasn’t privy to this information
either.

I had to be honest, this was a blindside by
Governor Hash and a very smart move on his part, but there really
was only one way to get shit done.

I would take the job and I would “fix it” as
Mercer so delicately put it. Then assign it to someone who actually
had a permanent address here in St. Ann.

“Are you my liaison?” I asked, not bothering to
look at him as I perused the file in front of me.

He shifted, unbuttoning his tweed jacket and
stuffing his hands in the matching pants, my question throwing him.
“That is correct. My contact information is attached to the first
file.”

He walked us out; the added burden of the
multiple homicide case files a lead weight around my neck. I was
back 5 days and already had more responsibility than I was
comfortable with. Fantastic.

I had Jerry drop me off at the manor and gave
him the next three days off, considering he had missed the weekend
with my three-and-a-half-day blackout.

I stood in front of the house in the dying
afternoon light, wanting desperately to go in, throw my worries and
cares away, snuggle up with the kids, and just be happy. I missed
them; I missed being happy. It was an emotion I never really
latched onto without them. Not surprising, given my history.
Instead, I stood there with my eyes closed and my duffle bag at my
feet, already knowing what my decision was but wishing I could
change it.

Feeling the threat of hot tears, I knew I had to
leave before they spilled down my cheeks. I picked a midsized car
from the fleet at the manor and fled away from the one place that
would make me happy; I had work to do.

It was such a depressing drive. I stopped for a
bottle of wine and French fries before heading to an overpriced
hotel with an amazing view of the city.

Dropping my bag on the floor next to the bed, I
hid a few key weapons around the room. Although I was registered
under a false name in a luxury hotel, which was unusual for me, it
never hurts to be prepared. Oh, and I had the do-not-disturb sign
hanging on the door, duh.

I drank straight from the warm wine bottle,
spreading the files around on the desk. Alright, little darlings,
what are you going to tell me?

I picked up the file of the daughter, the first
body Mercer had shown me, thinking he might have logic for a
particular order.

She was twenty years old, attending college and
home for the weekend. The listed cause of death was exsanguination.
Thankfully I had watched enough crime TV to recognize the fancy
medical term for extensive loss of blood. There was an up-close
picture of the wound on her neck. I turned it, studied it, and
couldn’t say what the fuck did that.

Next was her brother, eighteen, about to
graduate high school, a wrestler and straight-A student. There was
bruising around his left eye and rib cage; he fought back before
his throat was torn out, same as his sister. No clues as to
what.

The mother was next, forty-five-year-old
biologist, relatively successful if her daughter’s education was
any indication. I compared the picture of her neck to the
children’s. It was larger, and four hardly evident scratch marks
began at the base of her neck.

I meticulously went through the rest of the
files: father, grandmother, grandfather, aunt, and uncle; they were
all the same, except for the mother. I held the wound picture
apart, what made her different? If I was a betting women, I might
think she was the real target and everyone else collateral damage.
Who the fuck had she pissed off?

The files didn’t give any detailed personal
information aside from the basics. I would need Mercer to move
forward; I had a nagging suspicion he had planned it that way.
Rummaging through the files, I found his number and dialed.

“Mercer,” he answered, gruff and short.

“Olivia,” I said, waiting for acknowledgement;
getting none, I simply plowed right over, “I need the financial
workup on the mother, Jane, and the father as well. Also—” The line
went dead; well, that was just rude.

I gave serious thought to finding him, tapping
the hotel pen against the files. He didn’t seem the type to let
this file gather dust while intentionally sabotaging me; certainly
didn’t mean he wasn’t. Typically, my instincts were dead on,
literally; I’d give him the rest of the day before I started making
his life interesting.

Checking my watch for the time, I laughed. He
wasn’t the rude one; I was. It was 2 a.m. He, being a human, would
be sleeping at this time of the night. Oops, guess I deserved that.
The four scratches bothered me; did something rip out their
jugular? Where the fuck was all the blood? I pulled the pictures,
scouring all of them, looking for pictures that showed the carpet
or furniture. Nothing. All I had were close-ups in the morgue. I
was missing a large part of this file.

I almost called Mercer back, looking down at my
cell phone and debating; he apparently didn’t like sharing. Moving
to lie down on the couch, I took my wine, but left the files as the
information and pictures ran through my mind. I was missing
something, probably more than one something, and truthfully, I
wasn’t sure if it would be in Mercer’s file or not.

I turned on my side either way I had to resolve
this. Human law enforcement thought it was a vampire. I wonder what
the vampires thought of that. Let’s see, it was Wednesday, no,
Thursday morning according to my phone. Mallory was off; I wondered
what she was up to. No time like the present to find out.

I texted her, You hear about the “vampire”
murders?

I waited all of three seconds before she
responded, Not vampires.

How can you be sure? I texted back.

My phone rang at that point.

“Are you fucking serious?” Mallory demanded.

“Typically,” I responded evenly, trying to hide
my amusement at her.

“Do you have any idea of the fallout we are
seeing because of the murders? I have people carrying stakes around
the complex, holy water on every surface outside, and torches. Do
you hear me?” she screamed, “TORCHES!”

Mallory, when not at Kitten, ran security for
the Centennial House; she was just as pissed as me when the house
came forward, announcing their presence to the public.

“You need me to run interference?” I asked
hopefully.

“Fuck no!” she yelled again, “I have enough
issues without a bloodthirsty executioner darkening my doorstep.
Figure out what the fuck killed those people, Ms. Liaison, and
hurry up.”

I didn’t even have a chance to ask her how she
knew about my added responsibility, as the line went dead. I stared
at my suddenly silent phone, second time in one night. Guess my
people skills were maintaining.

Sitting up, I pulled another long swig of wine,
letting my feet rest on the coffee table.

Why the entire family? I wondered. If the main
target was the mother, why kill the rest. If I were the murderer,
why would I do that? The first reason that came to mind was that
they were all a part of something evil. Second, I was worried one
or more would come after me for revenge. Third, I wanted to torture
her by forcing her to watch everyone she loved die before she died.
I set the wine on the table, going back to the file, looking for
the death order. Please let that be there, I wished.