Power Shift (The Charming Shifter Mysteries Book 1) Page 8

  Another owl hooted from another tree.

  “Shit,” he whispered. “We’ll have to continue this fine moment another time.” Without another word, he shifted into a bat and fluttered away, leaving her to land on her butt on the frigid forest floor, falling into the snow and leaves, next to her gun and the man’s clothes.

  She let out a yelp. In the dim light, she searched for the gun but only found Hung’s pants. At the sound of footsteps, she abandoned her search and duck walked toward a large boulder, keeping her back toward the rock.

  “Anyone out there?”

  Dag nab it. It sounds like Red Spotted Dick.

  “Hello? Anyone?”

  The two men stalked into the clearing, glancing around. From what Chia could tell, they wore what looked like high tech night vision goggles.

  Her ghosts huddled around her, flaring into blurry glow sticks, making it impossible to see anything.

  “What’s that?” the guy who sounded like Red asked.

  “What?” Dick answered.

  “Over there. Looks like…looks like ghosts or some shit.”

  “Take your night goggles off,” the other man said. “Still see ’em?”

  “Nope,” Red said. “You?”

  “Let me check.” A rustling sounded as he apparently removed his high tech headpiece. “Nope.”

  Chia barely breathed.

  “Okay, put em back on. One, two, three.”

  Red let out a high-pitched screech. “Still there. Let’s get out of here. This place is haunted, too, same as the glacier. Damn shifters and ghouls,” he said, as he hustled farther down the incline. “Can’t wait to be rid of them.”

  Chia continued her silent vigil. When the world resumed its nighttime quietude, she slowly stood. Her ghosts made lazy circles overhead. “Which one of you alerted me to danger by annoying the shit out of me, buzzing along my face like an electric eel?” she whispered. “Anyone care to answer?” No response came. “And how did you think to shield me with light? Thanks, guys. Maybe there’s a use for you yet.”

  Wandering back to her truck, she peered into the night sky, searching for directional guidance. She hadn’t really paid attention to where she was being pushed earlier, but she knew how to get back up the hill.

  Sore, adrenaline and arousal still coursing through her alcohol induced state of mind, she picked her way up the incline, in the dark, wondering what her next move should be. “Haven’t a clue,” she muttered as she got to her truck. “I lost my favorite gun and now hold the man’s pants, as if that’s any consolation.” After giving them a sniff of longing, stoking her hormones, she pitched them into the back seat and fired up the engine, prepared to head somewhere—she just wasn’t sure where that somewhere should be.

  Chapter Eight

  In the wee hours of the morning, Chia dragged her weary, bone-tired body into the comforting surroundings of her home. She’d hunted for Hung all night but hadn’t made any headway. Dawn would arrive soon enough.

  Hanging up her coat and removing her boots, she planned on straightening up the living room, for my asshole roommate, and going to bed, to sleep for days if need be. Not that I have the luxury of sleeping for days, she grumbled. “And if Hung flew off to do his job and Sultana is dead, I’ll either be awake or joining her in the afterlife in a very short time when my lovely roommate returns. What a fantastic greeting that will be,” she added, snark lacing her words.

  She snagged an empty box from the pantry, and stomped into the living room. Cursing as she cleaned, she dropped the shot-glass, the tequila bottle, the beer cans and bottles, devoid of beer, the joint, stems and seeds, the ashes and ashtray, chips, whips, used condoms and other reminders of her night into the container.

  Using a damp towel, she made listless swipes along the burl end tables and similar coffee table her grandfather had made. She made her fatigue-footed way into the kitchen, prepared to dump everything in the trash, when inspiration struck.

  Lifting the small, stainless steel trash container, she poured the remains of the vampire’s undigested stomach heave into the box, complete with bloody, Murphy soap scented, soiled paper towels, and strode valiantly toward the basement stairs in the corner. Tromping down the wooden stairs, whistling, her footfalls echoing in the large space, she hoped the bastard would return home at the last possible minute and not have time to kill her. Her ghosts tittered and whizzed around her head as if excited.

  Opening the coffin lid, she dumped the bloody, liquor, dope-scented contents on the satin bedding and pillow, slammed the top shut and grinned. “He’s going to be so pissed when he climbs in bed.” With a lightness to her step, she made her way upstairs and tossed the box on the back porch for the recycling bin. “There,” she said, brushing her palms together. “Done and done.” She peeked out the kitchen window. “It should start getting light in about forty-five minutes. Let’s hope I’m right about his typical timing.”

  She stumbled down the hall toward her bedroom, locking the door behind her, barely managing to remove her clothes, peel back the quilt her grandma had fashioned, and climb onto the high mattress, using the small stool she kept next to the bed. Her eyes swept the room blearily, landing contentedly on the gleaming, polished posts of the bed frame her grandfather had also made, before falling into a dead sleep. A short time later, a loud shout caused her to awaken, but her drowsy mind still spider-webbed in slumber, dismissed it, and she drifted once more into a deep, dreamless sleep.

  Chapter Nine

  Chia glanced at the wall clock when she woke, refreshed from several hours of delicious, undisturbed slumber. Noon? Are you kidding me? Half the town could be dead by now! Outside her bedroom window, a weak pre-spring sun shone through the clouds, highlighting the ghosts with sparkling lights, as they swirled to and fro in her line of sight, like lazy fish in a pond.

  As she came to, she realized she lay outstretched in the bed, not curled on her side in her usual sleeping pattern. Intending to throw back the covers, she found she couldn’t move. Her arms and legs, poking from the bedding, had been duct taped to the corner posts of the bed, her hair felt like it had been duct taped to the pillow and a foul, dead-smelling stench emanated from somewhere in the room. She groaned. “What did I think? He’d tuck in without a fight? How am I going to get free?”

  After thirty minutes of wrenching, tugging, and tearing maneuvers, accompanied by the kind of swearing her grandma would turn in her grave over, she managed to wrench her now bruised and bloodied right wrist free. Fishing under the sheets, she retrieved some lube called Silky Stuff. She poured a glob onto her bound wrist to make the sting of duct tape being torn from her flesh less biting. This allowed her to free her other hand.

  When she tried to sit up to untape her ankles, however, the pillow came along with her head, tearing out strands of hair. “Damn it, damn it, damn it!” The tape tore easily from the cotton pillowcase, not so easily from her hair. Sitting up, her hips and legs swaddled in sheets and grandma’s quilt, she gingerly, gently tried to peel the tape from her locks without causing too much pain, losing handfuls of pink frosted hair in the process. “Damn you, D’Raynged. This cut and color cost me a bundle.”

  When she tossed back her covers to attack her bound legs she saw D’Raynged had put a finishing touch at the apex of her pelvis. A big X had been duct taped across the “short and curlies” at the front of her pelvis. She hadn’t a clue how he managed to be so busy—and so intimate with her private parts—without disturbing her but Dillon had said he moved like a whirling psycho when pissed.

  “You’re going to pay for this, jackass.” Deciding to make an appointment this very day to get the remaining hair sugared from her vajayjay, she grabbed one end of the taped X and yanked, screeching at the pain. “Dag nab it, you bastard vamp!” After removing the adhesive from her ankles, she swung her feet to the side and placed them on a very squishy, bony, furry, dead pile of rats, their tails bound together by none other than duct tape. She squealed, jerking her le
gs back to the bed. No more duct tape in this house. It’s all gone as of today. Lying on her stomach, she read the note attached to the pile.

  Brought you breakfast in bed. Love, D.

  “More like next to bed,” she muttered. “Get the details right.”

  The loud bays and barks of a dog pack sounded from outside her window. She rolled off the other side of the bed and sauntered to the window, seeing the entire band of mongrels from town. “Hello, local dog pack,” she said. “What brings you to my neck of the woods?”

  The big brown and white husky threw back his head and let out a glorious howl when he saw her, making her realize she stood naked in the window. She quickly crouched, snagging her robe from the floor and slipping it around her body as the entire dog pack yipped and howled with glee. Standing, she retrieved the pile of rats, threw open the window sash, and pitched the horrid remains into the snow. “Snacks for all,” she called, as the dogs fell to.

  The husky trotted to the window, and leaped easily over the three and a half foot high sill, landing in her room with a flash of light as Cecil. “Nice body, Ms. Manager. I couldn’t help but howl. You should try it.”

  “What, howling?”

  “It’s a fantastic way to express yourself. Nice rat catch. Thanks for providing snacks for the boys.”

  “Uh, anytime.”

  “I try not to eat roadkill, but once it’s served, instinct takes over.” He shrugged. “I only hope it digests before I shift into human form, otherwise I get an upset stomach. What happened to your hair? New cut?”

  Her face burned with embarrassment. “Sort of. Something new I’m trying. Uneven lengths.” She looked away from him, finding it hard to keep her gaze at eye level and off his fantastic body. “And here you are, naked again. Come out to the front room, dawg-man. I have a pair of pants you can wear.”

  She strode down the hall, looking for more signs of the vampire’s revenge. Nothing. “What are you doing out so far?” she asked Cecil, plucking Hung’s pants from the floor where she’d dropped them. She tossed them to Cecil without looking at his half hard man parts hanging between his powerful legs. Okay, I can spare a short glance. Damn, that man is large.

  “Pretty nice, huh?” Cecil said congenially, smiling broadly.

  “What is?”

  “I saw you checking me out. Anytime, Ms. Manager, any time.”

  “Thanks, Cecil, but no thanks.” There was something about having a guy in her bed who could turn into a husky dog at any moment that didn’t inspire arousal. Not to mention his status as town drifter and barhopper. She preferred a guy with a job.

  “Okay, but you might change your mind.” He tugged the durable pants over his legs and zipped them. “Where’d you get these? They fit perfectly.”

  “Keep ‘em. They’re yours. So tell me why you’re here. I doubt if you needed the exercise,” she said, eyeing his bulging biceps. Chia stepped into the roomy kitchen and started coffee, then pulled bread, butter, and eggs out of the fridge. “Care for some French toast?”

  “Sure, thanks. As to your other question, it’s always fun to romp with the pack, but, no, I’m on here on urgent business.”

  She groaned. “What now?”

  “Another shifter death. You know where that outcropping is? The one near the lodge where the arcane clans meet?”

  A shivery chill launched up her spine, as she pictured either her or Hung springing one of the deadly traps around their ankles as they stumbled around in the dark. “Yeah. I was just out there last night. That place is supposed to be a secret,” she added.

  “Come on, Ms. Manager. Every shifter knows where it is. The townspeople might not know but I suspect they mind their own business about it if they do know. Good thing you didn’t get caught, Ms. Manager. I’d miss you.” He shook his head sadly.

  “I’d miss me, too.” She broke eggs into a bowl and beat them to a froth with a fork, frowning. I’d also miss the guy I’m supposed to be killing. She caught her lip between her teeth and bit down hard, trying to quell any lingering desire from last night’s kiss. “Hand me some milk, please.”

  Cecil stepped to the fridge, retrieved a carton of milk, and handed it to her.

  She poured some into the egg mix. “So. Tell me. Who’s dead?”

  “Thomas Rockwell.” Again, his head moved back and forth with deep regret.

  Chia threw back her head and made an anguished noise. “I saw him. Last night. He and another coyote shifter were racing away from the lodge. He was my friend.”

  “He was a good friend to me, too.” Cecil put his large, bare arm around her, patting her shoulder. “Now, wouldn’t a big old howl be nice right about now?”

  “I suppose. I see your point.”

  “Or a hug. Would you like a hug?”

  “Uh, no thanks.” She didn’t think she could resist all that male heat wrapped around her body, preferences or no preferences.

  “He’ll be sorely missed.”

  “I’ll say. He has a family. Wife and kids. Goddamn it!” Angry tears sprang into her eyes. “My peaceful hamlet has turned into a war zone.” She dipped pieces of bread in the egg mixture and spread them on the hot, buttery griddle. They sizzled when they touched the pan. “Pour us a couple cups of java, will you please? I need fortification. It’s going to be another long, long day.”

  He obliged, handing her a huge mug of the dark brew.

  She added milk and sugar in hers, stirring it with a spoon, deep in thought. “Today we’ve got to have an emergency meeting. A real one. This situation has gone from bad to worse.” She flipped the perfectly browned pieces of toast. “There’s an unopened jug of maple syrup in the pantry. Get it for us, will you please?” She slid a pancake turner under the crisp egg soaked bread, and divided them between two colorful ceramic plates.

  Settling at the small kitchen table, she sipped her coffee and forked a bite of French toast.

  “These are great,” Cecil said through a full mouth. “Awesome,” he mumbled.

  “Don’t talk with your mouth full. You look like a…” She caught herself before the word “dog” came out.

  “I know, I know,” Cecil said. “I look like a dog. Hey, I am a part-time dog and this man-dog hasn’t eaten since yesterday brunch. Too much fun to be had.” He polished off his French toast, using his finger to wipe the plate clean of syrup.

  “You’re a good guy, Cecil.”

  “Thanks. And you’re a good woman. We’re fortunate to have you.”

  “Aw. You’re going to make me blush.”

  “When I could be making you howl.” He waggled his eyebrows at her suggestively.

  Chia laughed. “Dawg-man.”

  “Yep.” He sucked the sweet syrup from his finger. “I could be your dawg-man.”

  Ignoring him, she said, “So, we need a better plan than yesterday. All I did was stumble around. How fast can you and the pack get back to town? You don’t have to follow the road like I do.”

  “I’d say twenty-five minutes tops.”

  “That’s better than me, even at high speed. Okay, you head back to town and tell Socyone I’m calling an emergency meeting—a real one. I’ll shower and head into town. Tell Socyone the meeting’s at two.”

  Cecil gave her a strange look.

  “What?”

  “Well….not that I mind doing things for you…but…why can’t you call her and set it up?”

  She let out a short laugh. “No cell signal out here. No internet. Nothing.”

  “Right. Makes sense. What would you do in an emergency?”

  “Smoke signals.” She smiled.

  “What if it’s snowing?”

  “I’m kidding, Cecil, sheesh. I have a marine radio but honestly, I’ve never had to use it.”

  “Get one of those dog whistles. You know, the kind your ears can’t hear? I’d come when you called.” Cecil grinned at her.

  I bet you would, Chia thought, sensing the double meaning. “Thanks, Cecil. I don’t think that will be ne
cessary.” She stood and began clearing the dishes. The dogs outside began baying and barking. “I think you’re being summoned.”

  “Yeah. They’re a restless bunch. I’d rather stay here with you.” He gave her a liquid look of longing with his big crystalline blue eyes.

  Oh, I’d better nip this in the bud before he develops feelings for me or my ongoing lust causes me to do something I’d regret. “Yeah, but we both have jobs to do. I’ve got to save our town.”

  Loyal, duty bound dog shifter he was, Cecil immediately stood, ready to depart. “You can save these pants for me…for next time,” he said, winking.

  She didn’t even have time to respond. In a flash, he shifted into his husky self and whined to be let out. She opened the back door and away he went. He’d be great in an Iditarod race, she mused. Run all day, shift to human and keep his musher warm and happy all night. Win, win.

  Feeling comforted by their companionship, before she left the kitchen to get ready to depart for Charming, she rustled around for chocolates she’d bought for Valentine’s Day. And had no one to celebrate with. She pulled one of the dark chocolate hearts from the cellophane bag, removed a post-it note from the junk drawer, and scribbled, DR - Peace. Love, CP.

  She placed it on the counter next to his favorite goblet, arranging it just so. Next, she slid one of her sharpest knives from the wood block, flipped on one of the burners and held it over the flame to sanitize it. Then, she pricked the end of her finger, and squeezed a drop of blood onto the chocolate. I sure hope this won’t give him some supreme power over me, she thought. I hope he takes it as a peace offering and nothing else. Satisfied, she rapped the counter with her knuckles and strode to the bathroom, heavy hearted over another shifter death, determined to set things right.

  Chapter Ten

  When she reached the downtown admin offices, she winced, seeing people everywhere, spilling out the doors, milling in the parking lot, all dressed like winter warriors. Angry mob? She wondered how the next few moments would play out, glad she’d strapped on her chest holster, and tucked one of her revolvers into it before exiting the vehicle.