Shifty Magic (11 page)

"You should reconsider coming to work for
us," he said, his attention on the forest.

"I don't do FBI."

A flash of teeth gleamed in the moonlight.
"You sure about that?"

I rolled my eyes. Boys. Sheesh!

"Weres are very open-minded," he continued.
"Our clans welcome the occasional infusion of fresh blood."

"A lesser woman would run screaming after a
comment like that from a werewolf. I, however, am merely
insulted."

"What if you're one of us?"

I stumbled, but recovered fast enough not to
look too much like a dope. I wrestled down the empty space that sat
constantly in the center of my heart whenever family or heritage
was mentioned. I'd gotten used to the idea of never knowing where I
came from a long time ago. That didn't mean it didn't hurt and I
tended to respond accordingly.

"Oh-kay," I said, "you got me. I have no
idea who my parents were. Sadly for your theory, I've remained
solidly human since I turned fifteen."

"There've been cases in our history where a
pup never received their initiation. Without an animal totem, they
never shift."

"I bet they still register as Weres on the
scanners."

He hesitated, and I knew I had him. "Most of
the time," he finally admitted.

I pressed the flat of my gun against his
chest, effectively bringing Cooper to a halt. His brows raised in
amazement at my audacity. "Look, whatever this is," I waved my free
hand between us, "would be easier if we were the same species, but
we're not. The best we can hope for is a sneak-around human and
Were fling, and I'm not interested in that kind of stress. What
happened at Christmas was a spell-induced mistake that will never
happen again. We're better off ignoring it. Stay professional, get
the job done, everyone goes home happy."

"You know that's not how Cupid spells work.
Even if the two people don't want to admit it," he countered.

"Hello? Still not socially acceptable to be
together? Interested in staining your stellar FBI record? Or
ruining my fledgling business?"

"People do it all the time, Addie."

And I secretly wished I could be one of
them, but I wasn't that brave. "Good for them," I said instead.
"Now drop it."

The pale light of the moon reflected in his
eyes, giving them an eery, silvery glow. "What if I can't?"

Even as a thread of excitement shivered
through me, I considered sticking the barrel of my gun against his
chest to help get it through his thick head that we would never be
a couple. Except even I wasn't that stupid. Only an idiot pointed a
gun at a mature werewolf and believed there wouldn't be
consequences.

I settled for getting up in his face. A
blatant Were insult and just as foolish, but the odds of living
through it were better. "Not going to happen," I snarled.

Before I could so much as squeak with
surprise, he disarmed me and kissed me hard, right on my mouth. I
lurched back, a shimmering warmth spreading down from my chest to
my stomach in a cascade of yearning. "You...did not just do
that."

"If you don't shut up, I'll do it again." He
studied the added container tubes and discharge chamber of my
Browning, and then held the weapon out to me.

I was torn between slugging him in the nose
and touching the place on my mouth where I could still feel the
tingle of his lips against mine. Instead, I snatched my gun out of
his hands and scowled at him. "This is exactly why I wouldn't like
working with you."

"Before you say anything you'll regret, I
want to show you something."

"I bet you do."

"It's up ahead." A cocky grin spread over
his face, and he sauntered past me. I could either follow him or
loiter around looking like a fool. I followed him.

He stopped and waited about six yards ahead
of me. When I reached him, he pointed to a section of the stone
wall. "See anything unusual?"

Palming my flashlight, I pushed aside my
annoyance with him and the swirling attraction sizzling through me
and swept the beam of light over the wall. "Somebody's chipped out
handholds in the stone. I wonder if they fried when they reached
the top."

"I have two theories." He narrowed his eyes
at the wall as if hoping enough intimidation would make it talk.
"One, some of the kids in this freaky, locked down neighborhood
figured out a way to sneak in and out without their parents
knowing. Two, someone wanting to get in started this rock climbing
project, got fried as you put it, and went away."

I moved the beam of my flashlight to the
barbed wire. The magic running through the metal coils danced in
the light like glitter. Except in one section. "The wire's been cut
and replaced with three strands of copper wire. Whoever did it
managed the switch without alerting anyone to the disruption. Off
hand, I'd say only Laiyla has that skill." I moved closer to the
wall and studied the lowest handhold. "There's a few spots where
the moss growing in the crevice has been crushed or knocked
off."

"Someone's been sneaking in and out of
Morrocroft." Cooper's iC buzzed on his belt. He unclipped the
device, activated it and identified himself. Pressing the private
call button, he put it to his ear. His expression turned serious,
but as the conversation continued, his eyes narrowed with
anger.

Disconnecting, Cooper stared up at the wire
along the top of the wall. He didn't look happy.

"Anything I need to know?" I asked, not sure
I really wanted an answer.

He pulled in a long breath and brought his
gaze back to me. "The police found Laiyla."

* * *

I wasn't happy to be nearly shoulder-to-shoulder
with Cooper again, but it was a heck of lot quicker than the hover
system.

"They found her in Carmel Park," he said,
taking Colony Road to Fairview.

I scooted closer to the passenger door to
give myself some thinking space and stared out the window. Brick or
stone walls marking all of the once better neighborhoods tracked
along the road, as gaping and mangled as an old woman's smile. Like
Morrocroft, most of the once luxurious homes had been converted
into boarding houses or apartments, their manicured lawns
supporting gardens and goats now. Signs for first floor home
businesses appeared here and there, usually small groceries or
repair shops.

It took a long time for communities to
recover from the shock of a catastrophic attack and a significant
paradigm shift, but it could be done. Stuff could be fixed and
lives rebuilt. People though...losing people was permanent.

I hadn't known Laiyla, not really, but I
dreaded what was ahead. I'd heard the tense note in Cooper's voice
when he got the call, the way shadows of frustration and regret had
gathered in his eyes. That could only mean one thing.

"She's dead, isn't she?" I said, a tense
sick ache sinking to the bottom of my stomach.

His jaw hardened. "About eleven this
morning."

While I slept, Laiyla was dying. Was it
because I'd gone to see her? Had that flagged her as a risk? Guilt
seeped into me. "She was tracking that series of vampire attacks in
New York several months ago, too. There might be a connection," I
said as Cooper turned right onto Oglukian. Wild poplar trees, ferns
and abandoned houses crowded in on the car. "The murderer might
have found out that she talked to me."

"You mean he wanted to shut her up?"

"And me, too."

He released a long breath, his focus on
navigating around potholes.

I frowned, annoyed by his silence. No one
could play oblivious like an FBI agent. "If you want me to work
with you, start by telling me why I'm not dead after a vampire
chomped on me last night."

"Like I said, I don't know what you're
talking about."

"A silver and black wolf kicking butt when a
Were tried to join the fight doesn't ring a bell?"

Cooper got scary still. "Nope."

I studied his profile, my gaze touching
where his silver hair blended into sorrel brown and then to black
at his temple. "Any speculation about why a Were and vamp might
work together, or why the vamp's eyes were solid black instead of
feeding frenzy blood red?"

"Not really."

"I found the vamp's chewed off head when I
came to. And the rogue Were was gone. I don't know many people who
could kill a vamp and make a second body disappear. They'd have to
be, oh I don't know, maybe one of the FBI's paranormal agents?"

His face tightened down into neutral lines
as rigid as a three-foot thick cement wall.

"I guess leaving the evidence could have
been awkward," I said.

"Killing vamps without a Church order is
dangerous," he said, his tone flatly conversational as if he were
discussing the weather. "Especially if someone's able to bury their
fingers halfway into the vamp's neck like it was butter, puncturing
the windpipe in four places and severing the carotid artery."

I blinked. I was strong, but not that
strong. "Who could do something like that?"

He shot me an impatient look before turning
back to his driving. "Dead paranormals aren't something cops like
to find. Neither do the good citizens of Morrocroft. Whatever
happened to those bodies, I'd say someone did you a favor. Being
grateful and not asking too many questions might be a good course
of action."

I considered that for a moment. After
completely discounting the nonsense about necks and butter, I
concluded that he had a valid point. Sometimes dealing with a
situation directly complicated things unnecessarily. The FBI knew
that better than anyone and so did the paranormal community. Both
were very skilled at making dicey situations disappear if they
thought it helped a more important cause.

"You're right. Thanks." I said.

"Like pulling teeth," he muttered.

Guess I hadn't sounded as grateful out loud
as I had in my head.

Cooper turned right onto a dirt driveway. We
wound through the trees and emerged into a cleared area with an old
farmhouse hunched against an overgrown grove of fruit trees at the
back of the property. An ambulance, FBI car and several police
cruisers were lined up on either side of the drive. Flood lights
lit up the two-story structure that looked like something out of a
horror film complete with peeling paint, a broken roof and a
spooky-as-hell energy coming off of it.

A shudder ran down my back as I studied the
busted, sagging front porch and boarded up windows. "Creepy," I
said, though the label was barely adequate to describe the ominous
mood hanging over the place.

"The house was headquarters to one of the
2024 terrorist strike teams," Cooper mused as he gazed at the
place. "A parish of about twenty-four vamps. They called themselves
Hand of God."

I sneered. "Typical." Vampires loved
thumbing their noses at established religion even while they worked
to infiltrate and control it. I wasn't religious in the
conventional sense, but God and I had an understanding. I believed
in Him and He believed in me, and we left it at that.

"Not too keen on going in there," I
admitted.

"Me neither." A snarl pinched his mouth and
quickly disappeared. "Let's go."

We got out of the car and Agents Stillman
and Miller met us out in the weed-choked yard. Miller's comb-over
fuzzed around his head like he'd run his hands through it most of
the night. His eyes were tired and troubled. Agent Stillman seemed
just as exhausted, only on her it looked mean.

She leveled her hard eyes on me and then
shifted them to Cooper. "This isn't something for an amateur."

I took a step toward her, thinking it might
be time to add to the Were chick's scars. "I'm experienced enough
to kick your—"

Cooper blocked my way with his arm, his
focus locked onto the other woman. Nothing in his expression
changed that I could see, but Stillman paled and her gaze dropped
as she moved back a step. Cooper lowered his arm and headed for the
house.

I followed him, keeping to the edge of the
rotting staircase so I wouldn't risk stepping through one of the
boards. There was an evidence flag, an orange plastic ribbon on a
wire, stuck near the corner of one of the steps. Taking a closer
look, I saw that a few of the ragged edges of wood were stained
with what looked like dried blood. Whoever came in here was either
in too much of a hurry to be careful, or someone had been forced
into the house. Based on the oppressive feeling hanging over the
place, I was inclined to go with option number two.

Cooper stepped into the dusty,
disintegrating hall and I hurried to catch up. Crossing the
threshold felt like pushing through swamp mud. "Something very bad
happened here," I muttered.

He glanced at me over his shoulder, and I
thought I saw regret and a touch of sympathy in his eyes. I didn't
want him having second thoughts about including me, not with the
vamp hierarchy breathing down my neck. I shut my mouth and vowed to
keep it that way no matter how nervous I got.

At the end of the hall, Cooper turned right.
Stepping across a fallen beam, he passed under the wide arch of
what had probably once been the entrance to the family room of the
house. As I got closer, the horrible smell of death burned my nose.
The dread I'd been feeling thickened.

I crossed the beam, careful not to touch
anything, and walked into a room about twenty-seven feet long and
twenty feet wide. My focus went straight to the far left corner of
the room. Some part of me had been hoping there'd been an error,
that maybe Laiyla had been found unconscious or severely injured,
but was otherwise okay.

There hadn't been any mistake.

I'd only seen a few dead bodies in my life,
even though when I was twelve, I lived on the streets for a while
when the paranormal fighting was in full swing. There was no
mistaking some things, and even I could tell she'd been here for a
while. I pushed down my repulsion and forced myself to study the
scene before they took her away. Any detail might help us find the
killer and was worth a little discomfort. I owed Laiyla that
much.