A Generation of Vipers (Shifter Shield Book 2) (7 page)

Being alone at Kade's while he worked got old pretty quickly, but I filled the hours doing CAP-C paperwork, completing my physical therapy exercises, and begging rides to and from the hospital from shifters who worked there so I could visit Serena. I was glad to see she had shifted back to her human form the first time I went to see her after I had been released; I still wasn't certain her shifting ability was the good thing Kade and Kelly had made it out to be, though I was beginning to realize that a "first shift" was, to a shifter, akin to a "first step" for most human parents.

Gloria began visiting me every couple of days, usually bringing lunch. It didn't take long to figure out that she was checking on my mental health after getting caught up in what she saw as a horrible, but random, act of violence.

She didn't know this had become my new normal.

For good or ill, I knew the words to say to minimize her worry.

While I had been away, there had been no more strange recordings in the CAP-C, and Gloria was convinced it had been a strange technical glitch. "Moreland is inclined to agree with me," she said one afternoon, taking a bite of her salad and waving her fork in the air as she spoke. "He thinks maybe something caused the microphone to pick up my breathing from the background. Or maybe the officer's. Anyway, as long as it doesn't happen again, I'm choosing not to worry about it."

Given my recent experiences, I was less certain we hadn't had an intruder, but I was willing to let it go, at least for now.

My boredom-busting routine actually helped me recover more quickly than I might have otherwise, and it wasn't long before Dr. Smith released me to go back to work for a few hours a day. "Nothing too strenuous," he admonished me, and I pointed out that counseling was rarely a physically taxing job. He didn't look convinced, but it didn't matter. I was back at work less than a month after the attack on Serena, and I was glad to have my life getting back to normal.

The first day, I had Kade drop me off at the CAP-C on his way to the hospital. It was still early. No one else was there yet, but I was looking forward to using the quiet to settle back into my office.

As soon as I opened the door to my own office, though, I could tell there was something not quite right.

I flicked my tongue out and tasted the air, testing for what was out of place.

Something almost rotten, that didn't belong in my space—but not entirely foreign, either. Not strong enough for humans to pick up, either, probably.

What the hell?

I concentrated, allowing my mouth to shift just enough to give me better access to my serpentine sense of smell and let the scent molecules drift over the Jacobson's organ.

There
.

The odor led back to its source in the far corner of my office, and I laughed aloud as I bent over to pick it up.

Orlando. The suicide-by-wiener kid.

I had left the envelope full of rotten hot dog behind the night of the attack in the NICU, planning to mail it the next day, and it had never been sent.

I shook my head and picked it up gingerly with two fingers, then moved to the conference room, where I dropped the package into the only covered trash can in the building. I would give Vance, the child psychologist, a call later and make sure Orlando's parents had gotten him in for evaluation, even without my written recommendation—or the suicide weapon, either.

As the metal lid clanged down over the garbage, I turned to leave the room, but something caught my attention—a glint from somewhere along the wall.

A reflected light from the built-in camera?

Maybe.

But my mind jerked back to the day Marta was attacked, when Gloria and Detective Moreland and I had all been listening to the sound of breathing recorded by that same camera system.

Trying to continue looking calm, I stepped through the door and down the hall a few paces. There, I listened for anything that might give away an intruder.

Nothing sounded unusual.

I had at least one additional sense that I could use to check for trespassers, though. I hadn't shifted the inside of my mouth back to being fully human yet, so taking a deep breath, I allowed the change to flow outward from the Jacobson's organ, spreading up my face.

My vision shifted to shades of gray, but I didn't need to be able to see any longer.

I had a pit viper's sensory organs between my eyes and nose, those hollowed-out spaces that allowed me to feel the most minute changes in temperature, almost as if I were seeing them in infrared. The human side of my brain translated the information into images in shades of red and purple, though that wasn't quite what my reptile senses picked up.

It didn't matter how I imagined it, though.

It was clear.

There was someone inside the building. Someone who was shaped like a human, but who burned hotter than any human I had ever met.

A shapeshifter.

Inside the wall, close to the camera and recording system.

Right now.

And I was all alone, and recovering from a major injury.

Oh, hell.

* * *

Attempting to appear casual, I walked down the hall toward the bathroom that shared a wall with the conference room. I needed to figure out how the shifter had gotten inside the wall, and how I might get him or her back out.

A panel allowing people to take the camera in and out of its hiding place was the only opening I knew of, but I checked the bathroom wall as carefully as I could without knocking on it to check for hollow spots.

After only a few minutes, I gave up on subtlety. For all I knew, the shifter on the other side could sense me as well as I could sense it.

Instead, I quickly checked all the adjoining spaces.

No obvious entrance into the wall existed.

Finally, I shifted my face back to its normal human form, and marched into the conference room, where I stood directly in front of the camera. The power light blinked on.

Apparently whoever was in there wanted this recorded.

Fine.

I raised my voice a tiny bit, and spoke to the flashing light. "I know you're in there. If you don't come out in the next two minutes, I'm going to turn into a snake and bite you, and then you'll have to go to the emergency room. If I let you."

If any of my colleagues ever saw the recording, I would have to explain my odd threat.

Then again, Gloria and I both admired the psychiatrist who had installed speakers into his electrical outlets and used them to communicate with a delusional patient in order to break into the patient's fantasies and disrupt them.

Threatening a camera with turning into a snake might not take much explanation at all, in this line of work.

The panel hiding the camera popped open a few inches, and even through the wall, I could feel the heat of a shifter's change.

I was ready when the small, brown animal leaped to the ground and tried to dash between my legs. With my own shifter swiftness, my hand darted down and I grabbed it. Luckily, the camera was unlikely to have caught that motion, since it was below the lens's field of vision. I wouldn't have to explain how I had moved so quickly.

I did, however, hold the animal up by the scruff of the neck for the camera to record. "Check it out, y'all," I said. "It was a squirrel we heard on the recording. All clear now."

Then I tossed it in a cardboard box and taped the top shut. Leaving a note behind for Gloria, I took the odd package over to Janice's.

* * *

"I was trying to get proof that the lamia-bitch was unfit to take care of children." An hour later, Hank sat on the sofa in Janice's living room, surrounded by several other Shields and Council members, and spoke sullenly.

"How did that work out for you?" I asked.

Janice shot a quelling look my direction, and I held my hands up in surrender.

"I assume you found nothing?" Yeah, she was better at this than I was.

"No. But I would have, with more time." He sneered at me, and I bit down on the inside of my cheeks in order to keep from saying something rude in return.

"Very well." Janice turned to Ed, who stood impassively beside her. "He'll need to be contained until we determine what to do with him. I think the lions have the best system for that. Will you see to it?"

He nodded and grabbed the prisoner by the shoulder.

"Wait," I said. "I have one more question for you—it's not really that important, but I have to know. Why did you change to your human form while you were in the wall? Why not stay a squirrel?"

For a moment, I thought he wasn't going to answer. When he did, he sounded surly. "I kept wanting to chew through the cords on the camera."

"Hey, Kade!" I called out as I entered his house several weeks later. "You here?"

"In the kitchen."

I probably could have guessed that from the amazing smells wafting from that direction.

Note to self: always date a were-mongoose who can cook.

He didn't look up from whatever it was he was sautéing in the pan, but he spoke as soon as I was close enough for him not to have to shout. "How did the appointment with Dr. Smith go?"

"It went great. I am cleared for all activity."

"Yeah?" The raised eyebrow asked a question, but the lascivious grin that went with it let me know he was on board with the idea.

"Yep. Anything goes."

"Well, then," he said, turning off the fire on the stove, "I think these vegetables can wait."

Shifter-swift, he slipped around the counter and caught me up in a kiss.

I melted into the heat of it for a long moment. When he began walking us toward the bedroom, though, I pulled away.

"Wait," I said, laughing even as I pushed against his chest. "There's more. I need to talk to you."

"Okay." He stopped, instantly serious, but didn't let go of me. I loved all of those things about him.

I only hoped he loved me enough for what I was about to tell him.

"Serena is getting released this week, too."

A smile broke out across his face. "That's great news."

"There's more." I bit my bottom lip, then took a deep breath. "I want to go with her."

"To get her settled in her new home? Of course."

"No. I mean permanently. I want to live with Serena. And the other baby lamias. In the group home."

This time Kade did let go of me, taking a half step back. I instantly missed his warmth, his touch. But I was sure this was the right step for me.

"I'm not ready for something like that," he said.

"I know." My voice was soft.

"So…" he trailed off, brow knitted in thought. I gave him a moment to let it sink in. "Where does that leave us?" he finally asked.

"I think, in some ways, it leaves us exactly where we are now." I watched his eyes anxiously. "We're dating. We're a couple. I'll just have … some new responsibilities."

"I'm not opposed to the idea, you know," he said.

"I know." This time, I said the words with a smile. "And I hope that someday you'll decide to join us. But for now, this is where I need to be, what I need to be doing."

"Being a substitute parent."

I shrugged. "Yes."

"Will you ever get a night off?" A single spark flickered in the depths of his golden-brown eyes.

"Isn't that what babysitters are for?"

The spark turned to a gleam, and his eyes began to churn. Sliding his arms around me, he pulled me up against his body and met my lips with his own. The fervor of my kiss matched his intensity and heat. "Babysitters, huh?" he said against my mouth as I wound my arms around his neck. "Guess we'd better make the most of our free time while we have it." And then he picked me up and carried me to the bedroom.

This book simply would not exist if not for all the amazing support I have in my life, and I am more thankful than I could ever say for all you give me. All my love and thanks to these people, and more. To Isabel, first and always. To Blaire Edens and Erin Hayes, for being my partners in crime and insanity. To my parents, for support in this latest season of change. To Deborah, for reminding me to come out of my writing cave sometimes. To Rebecca H., for late-night texting while I figure all this stuff out. To Melanie, for steering me toward indie publishing in the first place. To the BIC group, for keeping me mostly sane, most of the time. To Jim, for introducing me to new people (ha!). To my fabulous beta-reading team, particularly Kim, Christy, Deborah, and Brandi! To my ARC Angels and my Vampirarchy street team. And to Freebird Designs for these amazing covers. Y'
all ROCK! Love to you all!

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Margo Bond Collins is addicted to coffee (mmm...caffeine) and SF/F television, especially
Supernatural
(mmm...Winchesters). She writes paranormal and contemporary romance, urban fantasy, and paranormal mystery. She lives in Texas with her daughter and several spoiled pets. Although she teaches college-level English courses online, writing fiction is her first love. She enjoys reading urban fantasy and paranormal fiction of any genre and spends most of her free time daydreaming about heroes, vampires, ghosts, werewolves, and the women who love (and sometimes fight) them.