Shifter Wars (7 page)

I glanced up at my second-floor apartment. A light shone through the window. I groaned.
Crap.
How could I have forgotten about Matthew?

Jason noticed my gaze and looked up as well. “Do you have timers on your lights?”

“No. I’ve been letting someone sublet from me, and I forgot to call him.”

Misha looked at me in surprise. “Who is it?”

“Matthew Johnson.”

“Booger!” Misha growled. “I told you I would wring his neck the next time I saw him!”

“Mish, he saved my life. It’s time to cut him some slack!”

“Who the hell is Booger?” Jason’s expression would have been funny if I hadn’t been so worried about Matthew’s safety.

Misha stomped toward the building, and I ran after him, calling over my shoulder to Jason, “I’ll explain later. Hurry up, I might need you to referee up there.”

Jason came jogging behind me, lugging the duffel bags. I took the stairs two at a time to keep up with Misha’s determined stride. When we reached my door, I pushed myself in front of Misha and placed my hands on his chest.

“Calm down, or I will not be bringing you pastries in the mornings.”

I knocked on the door, which felt strange, but I wanted to respect Matthew’s privacy. Within a few seconds, he opened the door and pulled me into his arms.

“Kyle! It’s great to see you.”

Misha growled behind me.

“Matthew, you remember Misha. And this is Jason.”

Matthew’s eyes widened. “The one who knocked you out and tried to run you over with his truck?”

“One and the same.”

Matthew glared at Jason, ignoring the fact that Misha was glaring at him. W
hat a mess.

“I’m sorry to just drop in on you like this. Everything happened so quickly, I totally forgot to let you know I was back in town for a while.”

“No problem. I knew you were coming. Shifters are a pretty tight group, so I heard you were back to help Trina.”

“Do you have somewhere to stay?”

Misha interrupted me. “You don’t need to worry about that, Kyle. He freeloaded off of you for months. Tell me he’s been paying you rent this time.”

Matthew smirked at him. “Yes, I’m paying rent. Let me get this straight. You’re okay hanging around with a guy who tried to off Kyle twice, but you’re pissed at me for doing my job?”

“Really,
Booger
. A job which included living with a woman who had no idea who you were?” Misha countered.

“Who the hell is Booger!?” Jason grumbled.

That’s when I lost it. A giggle erupted into a full-fledged, perhaps somewhat hysterical laugh. And I couldn’t stop. Like one of those church laughs when you knew it was
so
not appropriate, but which just made it funnier. Plus I had no idea what pushed me over the edge…the lack of sleep, events of the past twenty-four hours, or something else.

I wiped my eyes and looked at the three of them. They had gotten eerily quiet, so I decided a little schooling might be in order.

“Jason, last year I took in a stray cat which I named Booger. Unbeknownst to me, Booger was actually Matthew, who had been hired to protect me. So I was a little surprised when I learned I had been living with a man for several months.”

I turned to my demon friend. “Misha, I have forgiven Matthew for tricking me. Since he saved my ass last year from the vamp, I think some slack is in order here.”

Finally, I looked at Matthew. “Jason thought I was a demon. He was under the impression all supes were out to kill humans, so he was merely protecting himself when he tried to kill me. When he realized his error, he apologized. Now, again, I’m sorry about the short notice. Do you have somewhere to stay?”

“Yep, already taken care of. I moved my stuff out this afternoon. Just wanted to see you and give your extra key back.”

“Great. Well, gentlemen, it’s time for me to say goodnight.”

It was funny how quickly the room cleared. Males avoided me when they thought I was over the edge. They were probably standing on the street shaking their heads and commiserating about the unpredictability of female hormones.

I sat for a second, the last of my energy swirling down the drain. It was strange to be back home. My apartment still looked the same; my comfy chair and ottoman were by the window with stacks of my books piled next to them. My mother’s chest sat on the floor on the other side of the window. Matthew had gotten out the blue fleece blanket I used in the winter and had it hanging on the back of the couch. It should have given me some comfort, but it didn’t.

I left my duffels in the living room—I would take care of them later—and walked into my bedroom. I could tell Matthew had put on fresh sheets and blankets. He truly was a sweetie. I took a quick shower and then slipped under the covers, exhausted. Tomorrow we would try to catch us some poachers.

Chapter 8

I studied the new me in the mirror. I had to admit I was genuinely surprised. Blonde. The one color I had never tried before, since I didn’t think it would go well with my gray eyes, but it actually worked. And it was more of a dirty blonde, so it went with my skin tone. Dolly had done good. I walked out of the bathroom and put on my usual black jeans and gray turtleneck before trudging to the kitchen.

Caffeine beckoned, but I didn’t know if Matthew had left any behind. I checked the cupboards, and my stomach twisted slightly when I found the French roast Dalton liked. I brewed a pot anyway. A grocery store run for essentials was in order. I surveyed my walk-in pantry and snickered when I saw the recycling bin chock full of empty cat food cans.

I sat down for a minute, leaning over my mug and taking an appreciative whiff of java. I had been so tired the night before that I hadn’t allowed the memories of Dalton to invade my brain. But now, sitting in the kitchen, drinking his favorite coffee, they attempted to sneak in uninvited. Coffee spilled on my hand, and I jerked. I was gripping the mug so hard I was surprised it was still in one piece.

I took a calming breath and walked over to the sink. Time to find some equilibrium. Of course, as luck would have it, calm was not in my forecast, because seconds later the scent of rose perfume invaded my nose. I stiffened.
Holy crap.
I knew what that meant.

I spun around and confirmed I was alone in the kitchen. I rushed into the living room and wasn’t surprised to see Marie in the middle of the room, morning sunlight shining through her body until she came into full corporeal form.

Goose bumps notwithstanding, I needed to know what this visit was about. “Marie, why are you here?”

She wouldn’t look me in the eye, and my stomach clenched. “Has something happened to Dalton?”

“No, no. Joe is fine. I…just needed to check on you. To see you’re all right for myself.”

I closed my eyes. “Marie…”

“I’m just so sorry about what I did. I’ve worried about you.”

“I understand why you did what you did. And I’ve let it go. I’m okay.”

“But you left your home and friends.”

“I needed some time to figure things out.”

“And have you?”

I opened my eyes. “Yes.”

She crossed her arms and frowned at me. “So you’ve figured out why you’re having memory flashes that aren’t your own?”

And there it was. The two-ton elephant was finally out in the open. The only person who knew, or used to know, was Dalton.

My mouth fell open, and then I stammered, “H-how did you know?”

“Sweetie, I stayed here with you after you erased Joe’s memory. You were having nightmares and mumbling in your sleep.”

“All I know is Dalton absorbed some Key of Knowledge that he almost died to protect. Is the Key the source of all the weird flashes and names that keep popping in my head? I can understand Latin for God’s sake. Am I the Key now because I mind swept him?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know.”

Now it was my turn to cross my arms. “You don’t know about the Key?”

“It’s above my security clearance. I’m trying to find out more, but you can only be so stealthy in heaven.”

“Should you even be here with me now?”

“Pfft…they can’t watch me all the time. Angels are not all-knowing.”

“So, I’ve been told,” I grumbled.

“Have you figured out what any of the memories mean yet?”

“Nope. After some initial flashes of the name Thomas Wilson, and some cryptic Latin phrases, I haven’t had any more. Maybe it’s nothing.”

She frowned. “Or maybe you’re in denial. Running from your problems doesn’t help.”

“What are you, heaven’s version of Dr. Phil?”

Her eyes crinkled, and she laughed. It was surprisingly loud and sounded like a cross between a bark and a cough. “You are a witty one. I bet that mouth gets you into trouble.”

“Sometimes.”

“Try to behave yourself. I’ll be back to see you when I can, dear.”

“Wait.” I hesitated and then plowed ahead, my heart tightening in my chest. “Is Dalton really doing okay?”

Her eyes softened. “Yes, he’s doing well. Thank you for saving him.”

She faded away before I could say, “You’re welcome.”

I sighed, and would have sunk into a full-fledged funk if my doorbell hadn’t chosen that exact moment to ring. I opened the door to find Jason.

After a second his eyes widened. “Wow, a blonde.”

I held up my hands. “No ditzy jokes or I’ll get Stanley.”

“Who’s Stanley?”

“My nine millimeter. Do you want some coffee?”

He laughed. “Nah, I’m good. You ready to go?”

“Yeah.” I took my coat out of the closet and my phone off the table. “But we have to stop downstairs and buy some pastries for Misha.”

“Trust me, I know. When he found out I live by the West Side Market, he was ecstatic.”

I snorted in commiseration.

“I have to bring him something every Monday morning, or he pouts for days afterward.”

“I feel your pain, man.”

After a quick detour for donuts, Jason and I made it to the office. Dolly greeted me, grinning from ear to ear.

“I knew you’d look great as a blonde!”

“
I
didn’t even know I could pull it off.”

“Well, someone needed to shove you down the right path.”

I bowed slightly to her. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Jean Luc and Misha are waiting for you guys.”

We walked into the back office. Misha was working on his laptop, and he popped his head up like a puppy waiting for a bone, his eyes lighting when he saw the pastry box. “I’ve missed you, Kyle.”

I rolled my eyes. “You missed your pastry supplier.”

He laughed. “That too.”

I handed the box to Misha and plopped down into a chair. “Are we ready to discuss the plan?”

Misha nodded and gestured with his donut while powdered sugar rained down on the laptop. Jean Luc sighed with resignation, blew the sugar off the keyboard, and moved the laptop over to open a file.

“Misha has set up a fake identity for you, Kyle. Since you have been involved in the supernatural community for a while, there’s a chance the poachers know your name. Your name is Kate Johnson, age thirty, originally from Columbus. You moved here to live with Jason.”

“Am I employed?”

“Not yet. You did some general office work, but have not found a job here.”

“Got it. What about Jason?”

“He works nights as a security guard. Now, Misha or I will monitor you from the van. We want to make sure your cover holds.”

“Ahhh, Jean Luc? We don’t have a van anymore,” I said softly, fearing he might be in denial.

“I rented a van this morning to use until we can order a new one.”

“Okay, so what have you found out about the Smith Body Shop?” Jason asked.

Misha had finished his donut and wiped his fingers like a good boy, so Jean Luc scooted the laptop back to him and he began typing. “Bruce Smith owns the shop. He’s former military, so Jason’s military background might help. His younger brother Jim runs the office, and they have several mechanics working for them. They’re well known in this area and have a decent reputation for restoring old vehicles.”

I stood, walked over to the counter, and poured a cup of coffee. “That’s their public relations info. What else have you found?”

“Jim Smith has a juvenile record, which is sealed, so it’ll take me a little more time to retrieve it. Around the time Jim was getting into trouble, Bruce’s stint in the military ended. He didn’t re-up.”

“Maybe he decided to stay home and watch over little brother,” I mused. “What about their mechanics’ backgrounds?”

“They have three full-time mechanics. I’m researching them as well and will let you know when I find something.”

“What about the sketch of the guy Jean Luc saw in the 4x4?”

Misha flipped the screen around so both Jason and I could get a look. The man was balding and had large bags under his washed-out blue eyes. “I already compared the composite with license photos of Bruce, Jim, and the mechanics, and there was no match.”