Shifter Wars (2 page)

Shit.
It took all of twelve seconds for Doyle to stand out like a sore thumb. “Nah, he’s a lightweight, not a serious threat. I’m here to relieve you for dinner.”

Jimmy pushed back from the desk. “Thanks, I’ll be back in an hour.”

I honed in on the monitors in the bar, watching Doyle attempt to drink his frou-frou cocktail without sticking the umbrella up his nose. I didn’t know how he functioned in day-to-day society. Coleen, his wife and much stronger demon counterpart, must have to dress him every morning.

Fifteen minutes later, he walked toward the pit, trying to act nonchalant and failing miserably. He wandered over to one of our private rooms.
What is he up to?
He would have to pony-up five hundred dollars before he could walk through the door. Today’s game was Texas Hold ’Em. I flipped the monitor to the back room. Doyle sat down next to a hulk of a man bent over his cards. The man, or more than likely demon, nodded to Doyle in greeting.

I checked out the rest of the players to see if anyone looked likely to be in on the scam. No one stood out. There were two college boys thinking they were tough shit, chests puffed out, sunglasses on.
Really?
They had been watching way too much poker on TV. At the opposite end of the table sat Bobby Joe Thomas, not a person I wanted mixed up in this. He was a fairly decent poker player who had learned quickly he was a very small fish in Vegas. So he traveled the ninety miles to play in Mesquite, where he was a big fish. In the end, turns out it
is
about size.

I watched the game with interest. I wasn’t shocked to see Doyle was a horrible player. If anything was going to happen, it would have to be soon, since his chips were disappearing quickly. Interestingly, now that Doyle was sitting at the table, Mr. Hulk was winning, which flustered the crap out of Bobby Joe.

And I knew then he was the mark. “Don’t fall for it, Bobby Joe,” I murmured to myself, but it was a lost cause when he hauled out his money clip.

He placed his money on the table and bought a pile of chips. Then he made a bunch of stupid bets, losing to the hulk while the rest of the table watched quietly.

“Let’s finish this,” Mr. Hulk announced.

“Fine with me.” Bobby Joe pushed his entire pile of chips to the center. Up until then, I had only seen an all-in hand in the movies. The dealer flipped the last card over and somehow Bobby Joe won. Normally you might say the angels were smiling down on him, but I’ve dealt with angels before, and they aren’t much into rainbows and puppy dogs. Swords and apocalyptic prophesies are their M.O.

Bobby Joe stood and cashed in his winnings, strutting around like a rooster. The hulk glared at his back.

The con obviously had not gone as planned, so I continued to watch the monitors. Bobby Joe went out the back exit to his car. And—big shock—Mr. Hulk and Doyle were right on his heels. I clicked my earpiece on.

“Shawn, Jimmy’s on break. I need you to monitor the floor for me, I have to step out.”

“You got it, I’m on my way.”

I opened the monitor room door, and Shawn was already hustling down the hall. I thanked him and went in the opposite direction, toward the exit. There were cameras all over the parking lot outside. If those two idiots tried anything, it would be filmed for sure. It was dusk, and the overhead lights were just coming to life.
Better to see you with, my stupids.

I jogged around the back way and skidded to a stop. Mr. Hulk had Bobby Joe backed against the building with a choke-hold. Doyle stood to the side gaping. I looked up at the camera mounted on the building. It was dark. From what I could tell, all the cameras in the near vicinity were off.

So Mr. Hulk could control electronics. A pretty nifty power, actually. I pulled Stanley, my .9 millimeter, from his harness under my coat and pointed the gun at him.

“Drop him.”

He turned and glowered at me, his eyes glowing a light shade of green. “You don’t know what you’re getting mixed up in, girl. Take off before I hurt you.”

“Oh, but I do. From your eyes, I would say you’re a Haltrap demon…so no, I can’t let you hurt a human. Drop him or I’ll shoot you.”

He growled and took a step toward me…so I shot him.
Why don’t they ever listen?

Doyle screamed. Bobby Joe slid down the wall and plopped on his butt, gulping air while he goggled at the pissed-off demon in front of him. A demon who held his bloody shoulder and scowled at me.

“I told you to let him go. Now get out of here, and get the bullet taken out before your arm heals. Otherwise I’m calling the supe squad from Vegas to pick up your sorry ass.”

He hesitated until he heard sirens in the distance. “This isn’t over, bitch.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Like I haven’t heard that one before.”

He loped off, and I realized Doyle was still hollering. I pointed Stanley at him. He stopped.

“Jesus, Doyle, keep it up, and you’re going to attract all the cats in the tri-county area with your screeching.”

“I…I didn’t know he was going to hurt him. We were supposed to fleece him at the table.”

“Get the hell out of here. I have to erase Bobby’s memory before the cops arrive.”

Doyle scurried off into the shadows. I would deal with him later.

I knelt down in front of Bobby Joe. He was trembling and mumbling to himself. I concentrated, changing his memory slightly. Instead of a glowing-eyed demon, a masked man grabbed him in a chokehold and tried to rob him. I pushed the image into his brain quickly, including me shooting at the perp and missing. When warmth bubbled along my forehead, I transferred the new memories, winding them into his jumbled energy threads. After a few seconds, his eyes refocused, and he stopped mumbling. He had absorbed the new memory.

A voice called out from the side of the building. “Kyle? Are you okay?”

“Manuel, back here. Someone tried to mug Bobby Joe.”

I leaned back on my haunches. I had never wanted to use my power to manipulate anyone’s memory again. I was sad to learn I hadn’t lost my touch.

Chapter 2

I plopped down on my bed, rubbing my eyes. Even though it was late, I was wide awake, my thoughts bouncing around like ping pong balls. I had spent four hours at the police station, weaving my own version of events, one which did not include demons. The detective I spoke with almost made me leave Stanley behind as evidence, but I convinced him to let me fire a couple of rounds for him to keep instead. It wasn’t as if they would find the bullet to match for ballistics anyway.

Dwight had been nice enough to let me live in a part of the hotel currently being remodeled. My room had seen better days. Faded geometric wallpaper with cheap, black, mid-century furniture…it was my home sweet home for the time being. I wasn’t sure yet if Mesquite was part of my long-term plans, so the hotel worked as temporary quarters.

The question of the hour was whether this newest memory-erasing experience would have a lasting effect on me. I longed for the days when all I experienced was a small headache after a mind sweep.

But last August it changed, after I erased Trina’s memory of her kidnapping. For the first time, I had not only absorbed memories, but her emotions as well. The bitch about it was the memories felt like they were my own.

And after I erased Dalton’s tortured memories, they invaded my thoughts, too. Plus the name Thomas Wilson kept popping into my head. I couldn’t shake the feeling this Wilson was related to something big—as in apocalyptic big. And that was when it got really scary. Had absorbing Dalton’s memories made me the new owner of the prophesied Key half the supe nation was fighting over?

I scooted back and leaned against the headboard. Reaching for my laptop from the bedside stand, I booted it up. Every night it was the same exercise. I researched Thomas Wilson. And there were
a lot
of Thomas Wilsons. Truthfully, I had no idea how to narrow it down. I wasn’t sure if he lived in the United States. Hell, I wasn’t sure he was still alive…or if he had ever existed, for that matter. With nothing to go on but the name, I couldn’t narrow my search. But I couldn’t let it go, either.

As usual, I didn’t find anything. Before I turned off my computer, I hesitated. Sighing at how predictable I was, I opened up a new search and typed in another name: Joe Dalton.
Why did I keep doing this to myself?
A number of news articles appeared. Most of them I had read so many times I had them memorized.
Cop Single-Handedly Thwarts Serial Killer
. In reality, the killer had been a power-hungry vampire and his sire who wanted to rule the world. So the events had been altered. Even Dalton believed this fabrication, thanks to my handy-dandy power.

Today, there was a new news blip on his name. My fingers shook as I clicked on the screen.

Lieutenant Joe Dalton of the Cleveland Police Department has been selected to join a special FBI task force. The task force was formed in response to the growing number of murders in the Midwest. The team will be headquartered in Chicago. According to Dalton, the assignment is a great opportunity, and he looks forward to working with his fellow law enforcement officers. Last August, Dalton was instrumental in solving a serial killer case…

I smacked the lid shut on my computer. I couldn’t read any more. He was doing well, which was what mattered. Without me. Which unfortunately also mattered—to me, at least.

A knock on my door interrupted my pity party. I frowned. I rarely had visitors, especially—I checked the clock—at midnight. I picked up Stanley and stood to the left of the door in case someone decided to go Serpico on me and kick it open. The knocking got a bit more insistent.

“Kyle McKinley?”

“Who’s asking?”

“Will Seaver. I work for Nicholas. Can I come in?”

“Sorry, Will, don’t know you from Adam, so no can do.”

“Talia’s also with me. She’s parking the van and should be here any second.”

Talia? As in Jean Luc’s ex? This should be interesting. “We’ll wait until she shows up, then.”

After a few more seconds, I heard mumbling outside, and then a rich alto voice resonated through the door. “Kyle, my name is Talia, and I work for Nicholas. I’d appreciate it if you’d let me in.”

I peered through the peephole. She was even more beautiful than Jean Luc had described. Her amazing mocha skin and super-short curly black hair belonged on a fashion runway.

I clicked the bolt lock and opened the door. “Hold on…” Before I got the rest of my sentence out, she blinked out of sight, and a rush of air blasted past me. I turned, and she was now standing in the middle of my hotel room.
Damn vampire super speed.

Her dark brown eyes had flecks of gold that twinkled with mischief. “You know I could just bust the door down if I wanted to, right?”

I unclenched my hand from around my gun handle. “I would hope you’d have more tact.”

She inclined her head. “Nice to meet you, Kyle.”

“And you. So you’re on the Vegas squad. I bet it keeps you busy.”

“Yes. Nicholas added two extra teams here in the past few years. Vegas has become a large vacation draw for supernaturals.”

“And they get into trouble while they’re here.”

“Yes they do. This is my partner, Will.”

I gave him a once-over. He was Caucasian, with a shaved head and green eyes. He appeared to be in his forties, but with supes you could easily be off a century or two.

“It’s good to finally meet you,” he said.

“Why’s that?” I asked.

“You’re somewhat of a legend in the network. The only norm—I mean, normal—member of the supe squad.”

“I’m not offended if you call me a norm, and I’m a
former
member. So what’s with the social call?”

Talia spoke up. “We got an anonymous tip saying you had a rumble with a Haltrap tonight.”

“Word travels fast. He tried to outsmart one of our big players in Texas Hold ’Em, and when it didn’t work, he got nasty.”

“And how did you handle it?” Talia continued.

“I shot him.”

Will chuckled. “Had a hunch I’d like you.”

“It wasn’t my first choice, but he was choking the guy, and he wouldn’t listen to me.”

“What happened to the Haltrap after that?”

“Not sure. He ran off, and I erased the norm’s memory.”

“We’ve been having a lot of problems with Haltraps lately.” Talia walked slowly around the room. “Are you working a case we need to know about?”

Where had that come from?
“No. I’m not in the business anymore.”

She turned to me. “Do I need to call Cleveland to confirm it?”

I grinned. She was a spitfire. No wonder Jean Luc had fallen for her. “Sure. I can give you Jean Luc’s number if you want to call him. Or not.”

Will perked up. “Jean Luc? Talia used to work with him and Misha. She doesn’t talk about them at all, though. I’d love to hear what you know.”

Talia glanced at the minute scar on my wrist. I tucked my hand into my pocket. Did she know it was Jean Luc who had bitten me? The gold in her eyes sparked before she narrowed them on my face. That would be an affirmative, and she wasn’t too happy about it.

I turned to Will. “Yep, I worked with both Jean Luc and Misha for about ten years, but I won’t
fill you in
on anything. You’re awfully nosy for a shifter.”