Power Shift (The Charming Shifter Mysteries Book 1) Page 3

  Everyone deserves a fair shot at life, she thought. Before she’d been elected manager, the townsfolk had been at war with the shifters. Shifters came out of hiding, making themselves known to the neurotypicals, the so-called “normal” people, with supposedly “normal” nervous systems. The neurotypicals thought the shifters were freaks, abhorrent creatures not to be trusted. Fear abounded. Casualties had been a daily occurrence. Once she took office, she got to work erecting iron clad rules and ordinances, her specialty, thanks to her practical-minded parents.

  Chia shook her head. She suspected they came for the excitement alone. Winter was often an inward time of year in these parts, where people closed doors, kept warm and socialized when they could. It made for bad moods, short tempers, and a craving for new experiences like this one provided.

  The room felt stifling, far too warm, lending to a choking sensation. Chia fanned her face with her hand. Unable to organize her thoughts, she tugged at her collar, taking gulps of air, then scanned the crowd, looking for allies.

  There were a few friendly faces and she smiled at each and every one. Only a couple shifters showed. They glanced at her with wary expressions. Shifters tended to shy away from public office and meetings such as this, finding the grandstanding of mere mortals beneath them.

  They had their own governing bodies, which usually consisted of pack leaders—alpha males or females—or they kept to themselves. Most of them bowed to their shifter species instincts. Some of the supes were members of organizations known as arcane clans, loosely bound collectives that served as more of a social club, as far as Chia could tell. And the vamps?

  No one ruled the vamps, not even other vamps. They were an unruly, largely uncooperative lot. In any case, since she didn’t recognize some of the people from outlying areas, she hoped the shifters would mind their manners.

  Chia put her fingers in her mouth and let out an ear-splitting whistle. “Quiet!”

  The entire room shut up and turned to stare at her.

  “What’s the meaning of calling an emergency meeting without my knowledge?” She marched to the front of the room, Socyone on her heels as close as the border collie had been this morning. Once at the front, she climbed the steps to the stage, stepped onto the undignified wooden crate she stood on and glared at each person. “Well?”

  Joseph pushed through the crowd, appearing somewhat sheepish. A big, gentle man with long, curly brown locks any girl would die for, Joseph lived in the closest town to Charming, a bustling mountain municipality named Bewilderment, about a hundred miles east. He usually kept peace and order through reason and listening, putting his foot down only when necessary. “Good morning, Chia. I’m afraid Red’s the culprit.”

  “And is he here?” Chia put her hands on her hips in bitch wing fashion.

  “He’s here by proxy,” someone in the back of the room shouted.

  “Is that you, Dick Nighthawk?”

  The male said nothing and she couldn’t see his face through the crowd. “Proxy isn’t allowed in an emergency meeting,” Chia said. “If you’re here, whoever you are, you’re here as Red’s spy.”

  The crowd erupted in protest and agreement.

  “Quiet,” she called again. “Quiet!” When the din only increased, she searched the room for Walt, a howler monkey shifter. Howler monkeys had one of the loudest vocalizations on the planet. Finding him, she nodded and he slipped discretely onto the stage, ducking behind a curtain.

  Out of the corner of her eye, Chia caught the burst of golden light behind the curtains, heralding his transformation, and a few seconds later, ear splitting, ninety-decibel calls came from backstage. She pressed her palms to her ears, almost laughing as all her ghosts followed suit. Why we have so many jungle shifter species in Alaska is beyond me. It’s not like they can blend in.

  The shouting immediately stilled, yet Walt continued to screech, no doubt enjoying himself. He’d have to sleep for hours to recharge, but he never seemed to mind using his voice where needed.

  “Okay, okay, okay,” Chia yelled over the new din. She pumped her hand up and down to get Walt to stop the sound effects.

  “What the hell is that?” one of the villagers asked.

  “New audio system we’re trying out. It got your attention. So tell me…what did Hung do this time that has you all in a twist?”

  The answers blurred together in a roar.

  “One at a time,” Chia yelled, signaling Walt with a finger gesture.

  Walt silenced them once more with his monkey howl.

  “One at a time,” Chia repeated. “You,” she pointed.

  “He stole my best coat off the back porch,” a male answered.

  “How do you know Hung did it?” Chia asked, wiping sweat from her brow.

  “I smelled him. He’s got a distinct odor.”

  She whispered to Socyone to take notes, adding quietly, “Is it hot in here or is it me?”

  “It’s hot, boss. Something doesn’t feel right.”

  Chia nodded, her suspicions confirmed. As far as she knew, she didn’t have a supernatural bone in her body, unless you could call her ghosts some sort of weird power, but she could sense when something felt off or under the influence. “And you there. What did he do to you?”

  “Stole one of my prize calves.”

  “And you saw him do it?”

  “Nope. Dude’s too wily. Smelled him.”

  One by one, people recounted Hung’s dastardly deeds, all giving the same signpost of how they knew it was him—the smell. Sure, he had a distinct smell. Most bounty hunters did. And they sure sounded like things the rat bastard would do, but so many? And in such a short period?

  In less than two hours, if the group could be trusted, he’d managed to take coats, calves, a sheep, a minx, two rabbits, screw the barber’s wife—she had to bridle her immediate jealous response to this bit of information—and take a few knives from the smithy? This sounds like trickery and foul play. It sounds like Hung has been framed. As much as she despised the guy, she hated dishonesty and flimflam even more. She made a mental note of her growing shit pile: A) Save my job. B) Find Hung Durand. C) Find who framed Hung Durand. D) Take pleasure with HD. E) Kill the bastard, in order to, A) Save my job.

  “You do realize, even for Hung Durand, he would have had to be a busy guy to get all that done in such a short period of time, right?”

  No one said a word, shifting back and forth on their legs like musk oxen on the tundra, looking uneasily at one another.

  “You’re telling us we’re not speaking the truth? Now you’re accusing us of being liars?” the proxy male shouted from the back.

  A few people from the back murmured in assent.

  “Get him out of here,” Chia said softly to Socyone.

  Socyone nodded and slipped from view, snagging two burly looking males who worked security at one of the local bars. “So what are you all hoping to do by calling this emergency meeting?” She directed this question to Joseph.

  Standing at the front of the stage, Joseph cleared his throat. He rubbed his bearded jaw, tugging the trim, reddish bush over and over, seeming to gather his thoughts.

  Shouts of protest came from the back as the proxy male was escorted from the room in an undignified manner, one huge male on either side. After he’d gone, several of his “friends” slunk from the room as well, no doubt fearing repercussion.

  As soon as they were out of the room, Chia felt the room expand, as if a strange strangulation spell had been released. Magic? Was this some sort of spell? Admittedly, Chia knew little of magic and its uses. She spent too much time doing her job, creating rules and ordinances, to worry about magic.

  In that way, she took after her mom and dad, practical people if ever there were some. Her dad practiced clinical research in New York City. Her mom held a position as a biochemist at a pharmaceutical company. She hadn’t spoken to either in years, but still, their influence had been strong. “And?” she asked Joseph, prompting his answer to he
r question. She climbed off her box and crouched next to him from her perch onstage. “Your purpose?” She spoke softly, attempting to keep this from the onlookers.

  Joseph let out a sigh. “Thank goodness someone adjusted the heat. It was pretty warm in here.”

  “Yes, thank goodness. Your answer?”

  “Chia,” the older man said, loudly and indulgently. “You know I think you’re doing a great job in Charming. I think most of the townsfolk would agree.” He gave an expectant nod to the group.

  A murmur of assent spread throughout the crowd.

  “But politics is politics.” He spread his hands wide, as if nothing could be done about it, speaking in a lower tone.

  “Yeah, but…” Chia spluttered.

  “And Red’s pouring a lot of money into this community.”

  “Yeah, but…”

  “And you’ve had plenty of opportunities to rid this area of Hung Durand. The man’s a nuisance, a trouble maker and a rule breaker.”

  “Yeah, but…”

  “I’ve always been on your side.”

  “If you interrupt me one more time, Joseph…” Chia felt her rage growing like a stoked furnace.

  “Things always change, you know that. I’ll do what I can, but…”

  “But nothing! Red’s nothing but a bully, a cheat, and a liar. You know that.” Chia stomped her foot in frustration. “Charming is a safe place. It’s an amazing place. I do a great job keeping the peace and order here. All of us, the typical, ordinary, neurotypical people and…” She scanned her brain for a word other than supernatural, not wanting to alarm any of the outsiders. “Ordinary and unique types of individuals. We do our thing, and cohabitate nicely in these parts. Charming, Alaska is our Switzerland. It’s a safe space. Neutral, more or less.”

  Joseph appeared extremely uncomfortable. He wrung his hands together. Chewed his lower lip. Stroked his bushy beard. Finally, he spoke in extremely quiet tones, his eyes not meeting hers. “Ms. Petit, I’ve always been impressed with the way you’ve done things around here. But Red and his kind, they want to rid the town of, well…you know, the…”

  “The supes?” Chia breathed out the word in a barely audible voice. “He wants to rid Charming of the supes?”

  Joseph looked right. He looked left. He met her eyes, blinking rapidly. “There’s been discussion, yes.”

  The doors at the back of the room exploded open and slammed shut, no doubt by supernaturals leaving the building, enraged, having heard Joseph’s quiet comments with their extraordinary hearing.

  Socyone, standing close to Chia, stiffened.

  Chia groaned and threw back her head. “There will be war. In my Switzerland, there will be war. We’ll go backward instead of forward!”

  “Durand’s going to serve as an example.”

  Chia hissed in a low voice, laced with rage. “He’s a nuisance, yes. Troublemaker, I get it. But he’s being framed. There’s no way in hell he’d done all the shit—excuse my French—all the stuff he’s accused of. In fact, Red’s proxy or one of the people he came with might have used magic to strangle normal thought in here,” she whispered. “Don’t you think that’s a little hypocritical? It caused people here to twist facts. Before they entered this room, none of them would have said that. They’ll probably leave here and wonder why the hell they said the things they said.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “You’re right, I don’t. But besides the fact all of these things occurred in a short period of time, no ordinary human can sniff out a bounty hunter. Someone fed them that line. Someone handed them a load of crap to explain their losses and they bought it. Only supes, and well, I can detect the bounty hunter signature smell. I’ve got some sort of singular supe sense.” She ran a hand through her pink and black hair. She pushed away the sensation of what Hung’s scent made her want to do to him…with him…under him…on top of him.

  Joseph looked pained but didn’t say anything. His hands kept wringing, ‘round and ‘round.

  Chia lifted her gaze to glance at him. Her head felt heavy. Her limbs felt heavy. Everything about her felt heavy and fatigued. And it’s not even lunchtime. “Let me guess. The regionals are coming up, right?”

  “Yeah, but…” Joseph began, repeating her earlier words. He huffed out a sigh and said, “Yes. And I want to be re-elected. It’s as simple as that.”

  The crowd had begun to talk among themselves, unable to hear what was being said near the stage. Chia stood, getting out of her crouch. “Can I have your attention? Everyone. Please.” She put her fingers in her mouth and blew out a loud wolf whistle, not wanting to subject them to any more howler monkey cries. When the room silenced, she asked, “How many here want me gone?”

  The group shifted nervously, like cattle in the presence of a predator. The door in the back opened and fell shut, but Chia couldn’t see who had left.

  “What we really want is to be done with Hung Durand,” someone shouted.

  “Or, keep him busy with other things,” a seductive female voice called out.

  Titters of laughter rippled throughout the room.

  “Yeah, he’s one fine male, I tell you what,” another female said.

  Chia’s jaw clenched together. One of her ghosts, the ghost of jealousy, wound around her arm. It made her want to leap off the stage and strangle the women. She shook her arm vigorously in an effort to dislodge the wraith.

  “Get the bastard out of these parts,” a male countered, no doubt the husband of one of the females who’d expressed their appreciation of Hung Durand.

  Chia nodded. “I want that, too. We all do. I’m going to get him this time. You have my word.”

  People looked right and left, shrugged, then clapped and cheered.

  “You’ll see. In one week’s time, he’ll be history. Nothing, not even his scent will remain.” Her lower body kicked up a fuss of protest. You can’t mean that. You love his scent. She almost slapped herself, trying to quench her desire. Stop this. Would you rather have your job or what’s hanging between Hung’s legs between your … A gush of silky fluid onto her panties gave her answer. Stop it! “Okay, so this meeting is adjourned. Thank you all for coming, but I need to plan and scheme. I’ve only been alerted to his presence this morning. As far as we know, he’s in the wind. All of this could be a moot point.” She smiled and nodded as the participants took their leave. When only she, Socyone, and Joseph remained, she said, “Sorry you had to come all this way for nothing.”

  “Oh, it’s always a pleasure,” he said, congenially.

  And you’re always a politician, she thought, shaking her head at his show of good will.

  “Anything I can do to help, let my people know. You’ve got Dora’s number, right?”

  “Yes, Socyone has your assistant’s number. We know who to call.” Not you, from the sound of it. “Head on over to Sunshine Sally’s. Get some lunch before you leave. It’s on me.”

  “That’s a mighty fine offer. I’ll take you up on it. Would you like to join me?”

  “No, thanks, I’ve got some business to attend to. Mr. Ashoroc,” she said, extending her hand. “It’s been a pleasure.”

  They shook hands and the big man left the building, leaving Chia with a head full of worry and no plan to remedy it. “This is going to be one long week,” she said.

  “Do you have a plan?” Socyone asked.

  “No clue. But I’d better find one, and fast, or it’s going to be my head on a platter, not Hung’s.” She shuddered, stroking her neck with her palm. “And I’d like to keep my head right where it sits.” The better to put my mouth around Hung’s….

  Chapter Four

  The second she slid into her Jeep to head out for lunch, she knew she’d made a mistake. Distracted, worried, unable to think of a plan, she stepped on the running board and pivoted to slide her butt in. Her dopey ghosts bunched along the ceiling, flattening themselves like interior padding, as if offering up a clue. She got in without thinking or looking in
the back.

  Two male hands wrapped around her head, obscuring her vision and preventing her from saying a word. She shrieked into the press of male skin. One of the warm hands peeled from her eyes and dropped to her neck, stroking her skin with lazy, calloused fingers. Her eyes flew to the rearview to see the blue and gold eyes of Hung Durand staring at her. Damn.

  When her hands started to lift in protest, a rope swiftly circled her waist and cinched her torso to the seat. Crap! She tried to struggle but he only gripped her jaw harder, pinning her to the headrest like a stuffed deer.

  “Your new tinted windows are a nice touch.” He leaned forward between the seats so his face rested mere inches from hers, his breath warming her neck. “But here I thought you, a mere mortal, could scent me. That’s what you’ve told me. It always made me think we had a special bond,” he purred in that damn sexy voice of his.

  She made a muffled sound, thinking, I’m stressed. Distracted. About to lose my job over you.

  “Someone’s trying to frame me. Some trumped up charges of vagrancy and theft. Like I have the time to do that. Might you know who that is?”

  She nodded her head as best she could, her eyes wild in the mirror.

  “Oh, don’t look so scared, my pet. You know I’d never harm you. You’re too much fun.”

  Yeah, well, the sentiment isn’t shared. I want to kill you, bastard.

  “Love the pink streaks in your black hair. Makes you look like a delicious, edible, dark chocolate, mercury eyed cupcake.” His fingers continued their lazy, unhurried exploration of her throat. The masculine scent he threw off made her want to rip off her clothes, climb in the back seat and straddle him. About six foot two, he always wore a three-day scruff on his face. Had wild, light brown hair that looked untamable. Tan skin, no matter the season. Lips that she could get lost with for days. Blue eyes that always had glints of gold, like he carried around his own sunbeam. Muscled masses where muscles usually weren’t, even in his fingers and no doubt his toes.

  Why, oh, why do I have to kill you?