Way of the Wolf: Shifter Legacies 1 (36 page)

I remember the hard-footed four feet. They taste good. My belly is empty, but manthings are dangerous. I remember my mate and that my cubs hunger. I remember manthings are dangerous. I remember everything.

That was the most Mist had ever said to him at one time before, and the implication was staggering. He had instinctively always known that Mist was a real person, but this... it meant the wolf had been alive as himself in the far past and somehow was reborn in him. They were one.

We are one,
Mist agreed happily,
now and forever.

The implications were incredible! Many believed in reincarnation, but he never had. Sedona’s clerics did not hold that view, though the Goddess could do anything she wished of course. He believed in her, he had followed her calling after all. She was the patron of healers and he had always known he wanted to heal the sick. As a boy, he had been devastated when he learned he was devoid of magic and could not be a healer or healer cleric, but it hadn’t stopped him from finding a way to reach his goal. Medical school had been his way into Her service.

He watched the shifters getting ready for work and contemplated his changed life. He could not be a healer any more. They, the authorities, wouldn’t let him. Where did that leave him? Here at Lost Souls doing whatever jobs came up, doing what he was told? Now yes, and until he could fix Georgie and maybe Raymond as well, but after? He really didn’t know. He had no goals any longer and was adrift. Everyone here felt that way he was sure. They were all lone wolves... or shifters at least. There were a couple of people whose beasts weren’t wolf. He knew of two cats—one a tiger, and one a lynx—and there were a couple of non-humans that weren’t shifters at all. Half dwarf he thought one was. The other could only be an elf, but not full-blooded. It didn’t matter. They were like family, living as close as they did.

The pack is good the pack is all.

“Is it though? We aren’t really a pack here.” He felt Mist’s rejection of that and wondered at it.

We are Stephen’s pack. He is Alpha.

“The leader you mean.”

Mist agreed.

Well that was true at least, and he was definitely an alpha personality, but Mist meant Stephen was their pack leader. Alpha with a capital-A. A vampire leading a pack was... odd. In other cities, vampires were at the top of the food chain and ruled their territories like feudal lords, but they weren’t considered pack. They treated shifters and other non-vampires like cannon fodder, and they could make it stick, but here in LA things were different. There were a couple of reasons for that. One was that Stephen and the other powerful vamps had treaties and alliances with each other. They didn’t fight, but instead supported one another against outsiders, keeping the city to themselves and relatively peaceful. LA was a little vampire paradise. It was like an island sanctuary in a sea of chaos that was the rest of the Republic. Vampires fought and contested for territory all over the Republic, but never here. Another reason for the status quo was that the LA shifter community was very strong in terms of population. A war between vamps and shifters here would be very bloody, but the vamps would lose in the end. Elsewhere that wouldn’t be the case.

To be fair, he didn’t think Stephen would want it any other way. He was very modern and progressive in his thinking for a centuries old vampire. He liked living free of conflict, but that didn’t mean he was safe. Flare-ups of violence did still happen from time to time when outsiders tried to muscle in, and AML was always a danger of course. Stephen had to maintain a strong defence; hence the underground and the shifters living here between the surface and the vault on the deepest level where the vamps had their apartments. He had yet to see Stephen defend his territory; he had missed the last attempted takeover by a few months, but he didn’t doubt the vampire could be ruthless when the need arose.

He would win,
Mist agreed.
Stephen is a good hunter. He will protect us.

David frowned. Stephen did that for everyone here, but his protection wasn’t free. The latest news spoke of unpleasantness brewing in the city, and they were on the lookout for trouble. Something to do with the South Central Ghost had the vamps worked up. Not that they would tell someone like him what the problem was; he was just one of the help, one of Stephen’s many minions. He just had to do what he was told and enjoy the protections afforded him by doing so. He could leave at any time. Yeah right, and go where, do what?

He sighed and opened his book to continue his reading.

A few minutes later, Mist spoke up again.
Farris comes.

David looked toward the entrance. Farris was Lawrence’s wolf, or Lawrence was Farris’ human? But he wasn’t human... person then? He shook off the strange thought and the mood it brought it on. They were one, just as Mist and he were one. They were together now and forever.

We are one,
Mist agreed sounding very satisfied with the arrangement.

Lawrence entered the barracks and paused just inside, obviously looking for someone in particular. He was alpha as David himself was, but lesser. Not in body, oh no. Lawrence was something a little bit special in the size and good looks department—according to the females anyway, and even David who was a staunch fan of the female gender and hetero himself, could admit there was something there. Lawrence was a rare breed of shifter in that he actively worked hard to improve what Farris and the lycanthropy virus bestowed upon him in such abundance. David had asked him once why he put himself through so much work and pain to overcome the virus’ reluctance to allow modifications to its host. Lawrence replied just a little grimly, he now thought, that when everyone else could tear a car in half too, being average no longer cut it. Well, Lawrence was not average in body or power. He was alpha, just n
ot
the
Alpha. Stephen was that, but David was also stronger than Lawrence. Much stronger, but that was all Mist not him.

We are one. There is no difference, no division. As it should be. Lawrence and Farris are also one. The sum of our Presence is greater, that is all.

That was very perceptive of the wolf. David had come to suspect that much of what went into creating an alpha was how well the two personalities merged and complimented each other. Cassie and Onida were fine people, but they were not alpha. Onida rarely spoke at all. Contrast that with the conversations he had with Mist and it was a telling difference. The wolf rarely shut up! He grinned at Mist’s rumbled warning; he was pretending anger, but David could feel his amusement. They were perfectly matched, and that made them strong.

Mist sent his satisfaction and agreement.

Lawrence finished his brief scan of the room’s occupants, not pausing on all the naked perfection it contained. Most shifters preferred going unclothed in private like this. It let them shift with ease, but it was more than that. All shifter senses were heightened and wearing clothes often irritated sensitive skin. They had to wear natural fibres because of that, but even so, they felt confined in anything but skin or fur. So out of sight of easily shocked humans, shifters tended to strip at the drop of a hat. David hardly noticed any more. He just didn’t care; shifters weren’t body conscious at all, taking their lead from their beasts in that regard. He had lost that particularly useless human emotion surprisingly quickly he now thought, but then as a medical professional, he hadn’t exactly been a prude before his change. Embarrassment; what was the use of it? Besides, the only naked shifter he wanted to look at was Ronnie, and she was avoiding him.

Callia likes me,
Mist said smugly.

“And we like her and Ronnie, so it’s three against one. She’ll come around.”

His first weeks at Lost Souls had been a bit trying for Ronnie. He could admit that he’d been a little out of his depth and had followed her around like a second tail. That did not sit well with her, but her wolf, Callia, had liked it well enough. She was interested in Mist and apparently wasn’t shy in telling Ronnie so. David snorted as he imagined some of their conversations.

“Hey, David,” Lawrence said sitting upon the bed next to his. “Edward just posted the roster.”

“Oh?”

Lawrence nodded and gestured back and forth indicating the two of them. “Main doors again. Security.”

“Again?”

“He says there’s always less trouble when you’re on the doors.”

That was because a lot of the club’s clientele were monsters and able to sense his power. Shifters could always tell how strong another shifter was; it was part of what made the pack structure work. Shifter magic. His Presence was often enough to keep the peace all on its own. Other non-humans sensed different things in their own ways, but all of them responded to power. And the human thrill seekers? Well, that was why Edward partnered him with Lawrence most times. He was impressive in other ways—physically very imposing as well as being alpha.

“What’s he expecting, World War Three?”

Lawrence shrugged. “Nothing good. There’s trouble out there, big trouble. The vamps are upset about something, and some of the smaller packs are running scared. The
Alley Dogs
are agitated about,” he shrugged. “You know.”

He meant Ronnie, but it went deeper than that. Stephen needed his army, but because it was mostly comprised of lone wolves, it rubbed the packs the wrong way. Traditionally, rogue wolves had the right to enter a territory and visit briefly, but they weren’t supposed to take up permanent residence. If they wanted to do that, they had to petition a pack and join it. By giving so many rogues sanctuary and his protection, he had inadvertently challenged all the established packs. They didn’t want to fight Stephen, and Stephen didn’t want to fight them—everyone liked the status quo in LA—but by turning a blind eye to Stephen’s unorthodox not-pack, they undermined the system that made the pack structure so successful.

Until now, the blind eye approach had rubbed along not without irritations, but nothing more serious than that. The
Alley Dogs
however were a powerful pack and force in the community, and this time they had put their foot down. They wanted Ronnie back, or the Alley Dog’s Alpha did. Raymond Pederson. He had been Stephen’s most powerful ally until Ronnie came between them, but no more. It still surprised him that Stephen had not made the pragmatic choice of just throwing Ronnie back, back to the wolves so to speak, but he hadn’t. Instead, he had stuck to his—seemingly ruinous—policy of welcoming shifters into his vampiric embrace if they would give themselves to him body and soul.

David grimaced. He hadn’t been subjected to the body part of that deal. Yet. It could only be a matter of time though before he had to feed Stephen or one of his people. Blood was part of the deal. The fact they were so well fed made Stephen and his people a power among the vamp Houses of LA. Shifter blood had power and imbued them with it. Stephen wasn’t the oldest vampire in LA; Gavin Lochlin was, but he was close in power to Gavin because of his feeding habits. Michael was second in age to Gavin, but he was actually weaker than Stephen. That was a stark reminder that in vampire circles the old saying
‘you are what you eat’
held literal truth. Well-fed vamps were powerful vamps.

He checked his wristband. Stephen had hours yet before he woke, but the club would be opening and hopping long before he rose for the evening. He had to get dressed now if he wanted to open the doors on time, and he did. Monsters were no more patient in a queue than a human would be. He didn’t need to start his day breaking up fights and banging heads together.

He put aside his book and swung his legs off the bed. “Give me five minutes here and I’ll be with you.”

Lawrence nodded absently and picked up the book. “What are you reading?”

“Research, sort of.”

“Children of the Gods,” Lawrence said reading the title and then flipping open the book to a random page. “If you want to learn more about what you are, ask one of us. This bullshit won’t teach you anything.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, but I agree a lot of it’s junk. Flip to the appendix.”

David stripped out of his jeans and shirt to pull on his uniform. He thought of it as a uniform because it was Lost Souls approved clothing, but it wasn’t really a uniform. It was 1920-30s style formal wear. Stephen wanted his theme reflected in his employee’s manner and dress as well as the acts performing in the club. The interior decor of course perfectly mimicked the era. David wasn’t averse to looking the part; it was nostalgic, but a doorman’s uniform complete with cap might have strained his patience. Stephen hadn’t gone that far. He wanted the ambiance from those swank nightclubs that Lost Souls emulated, but needed his people to be able to mingle when necessary to keep things peaceful.

His ego had become quite flexible all things considered, but he was glad he didn’t need to wear a real uniform. One area where he had become less flexible and not more was in his inability to accept anyone weaker trying to dominate him. Hoberman would receive short thrift from him now if ever they met again. If that bigoted idiot had a scrap of sense, he would stay well clear. His new attitude was all Mist’s influence and his changed nature. So far, it hadn’t been too much of an issue here, because shifters could be very pragmatic once shown where they stood in the hierarchy. They usually settled down after a brief demonstration of why they should, but it was equally true that they wouldn’t back down for less. It was programmed into them or something. They just weren’t happy with uncertainty. They had to know where they belonged to be truly happy with their place in the pack. He supposed he could understand that. He hadn’t liked uncertainty before his change. Why would he like it afterwards?