Power Shift (The Charming Shifter Mysteries Book 1) Page 9

  A surge of humanity, like a dark, furious, frothing wave, surrounded her as she approached the building. Shouts, questions, and comments assaulted her ears. Her ghosts pressed close to her. She didn’t know if they were trying to shield her or were afraid for their own lives—not that they had anything to worry about. She figured whatever they were doing, it probably had nothing to do with her.

  “Let her through, let her through,” called Socyone, using her height to her advantage. She pushed and shoved, clearing a pathway for her shorty-sized boss to get through.

  Cecil, dressed in decent clothes for once, his hair actually combed, bulldozed through and fell into step on her other side. He played protector dog, while Socyone seemed to morph into a Dahomey Amazon warrior, one of the most fearless female African regimes. Between the two of them Chia felt as safe as one could get in circumstances like these.

  Inside was no better. Chia felt like she was about to enter the Roman coliseum as the main act, pitted against creatures of every kind. Hell, even the shifters came out for this event. And why wouldn’t they? They’re being hunted.

  Propelled by her two trustworthy guides, she found herself jostled to the front of the conference room by Cecil’s hard body. He lifted her easily with his broad hands and placed her on the stage.

  Wow, he’s strong, Chia thought, impressed. She scanned the crowd, trying to find a friendly face, save for her self-appointed bodyguards. Instead, fearful, anxious gazes from every square inch met her eyes. She stuck her fingers in her mouth and made a loud whistle, not wanting to resort to howler monkey tactics.

  The crowd grew quieter and finally stilled.

  She looked into their faces, fraught with worry. “I know these are fearful times, everyone. I’m devastated by the recent deaths. Both were my friends. There are some who want all shifters gone from this community. There are some who want me gone, as well. I’ve worked hard to make this a safe space for all. You’ve seen it. You live with the results. Now my work and your well-being are being threatened by a willful few.” She gave them a stern stare, determined for her words to sink in. “You all know I’m a good shot.”

  A couple of the shifters guffawed. They’d probably heard she shot out the windows at the brothel.

  She glared at them and they looked away. “I’m going hunting for the guy who started all of this. I’m going to keep Charming a safe place, if it’s the last thing I do.”

  Again, the shifters at the front of the stage rolled their eyes, no doubt thinking, “Yeah, you’re going to hunt the guy who took off with you outside of the club?”

  Once more she gave them an icy glare.

  “Just what are you going to do?” a woman sobbed. “My coyote man, Thomas, the love of my life, is dead because of you.”

  “Yeah, and my friend Michael is gone,” another cried out.

  “We need strong leadership! Maybe a man like Red is just who we need!”

  “Yeah, we need a man in charge. A man would never have let things get this far.”

  Right. Men cause wars, Chia thought. How many millions have died in battle?

  An uproar ensued in the room, stirred by grief, rage, and fear.

  Chia made several loud whistles to get their attention. “I’m as enraged by the shifter’s deaths as you are. I confiscated all those traps, remember? I sure as hell didn’t set them.”

  “You must not have locked them securely,” someone shouted.

  “Yeah, women don’t know how to make things safe.”

  Ouch. They’re turning on me.

  “They wouldn’t be used had you rid the place of Hung Durand in the first place. This is all your fault,” another shouted.

  Their misogynistic statements made her angry. Their blame made her deeply ashamed. As guilt took root in her gut, she could see their point. Her wishy washy regard toward Hung was a problem. As much as I boast, I’m not sure I can pull the trigger. And, he was right. Her rules made it impossible for him to do his job.

  Maybe we need new rules? But then, how can I be sure the bounty hunters or the townsfolk won’t kill a shifter? Don’t bounty hunters hunt criminals? We don’t want criminals in our safe town. Is Sultana a criminal or does Hung want her simply because she’s a vamp? Her thoughts grew as tangled as the mob before her.

  She worked tirelessly to make Charming safe for shifters and humans alike. No hunting, not even for squirrels, was allowed inside the bounds of Charming territory—if you wanted to hunt you had to head for other parts, not occupied by shifters. You could fish, that’s it, or purchase a license from the tribes to hunt on their land, but only during a very short period of the year and only in certain spots. No hunting, therefore no bounty hunter hunting, right? But then, doesn’t the bounty hunter catch criminals trying to hide in Charming? Her head began to ache from all the conflicting thoughts.

  She glanced at Cecil who stood watching her intently, the same way a dog would, watching, waiting, ready to back her up when she made her next move. The man’s as loyal as they come. “Get me down. I’m done.”

  He leaped up to the stage, as easily as if he were in husky form. He faced her, placing both hands on her shoulders in reassurance. Bending low to whisper in her ear, he said, “No, Ms. Manager, you can’t leave yet. As mad and as frightened as they are, they need guidance from you. You’re the town manager. You’re the pack leader. You’re the one people look up to. Sure, we all tease you and think you’re odd but we all love you.”

  “Aw. It’s a strange compliment, but thank you.” If he had a tail right now, he’d be wagging it, Chia mused. And, licking my face. She wiped at her face involuntarily. She did not like having her face licked, not by anyone, dog or human. Well, maybe Hung. She shook her head, eyeing her ghosts, lazily circling overhead. She placed her hands on her hips, stared at the buzzing horde filling the room and waited…and waited…and waited. Finally, all eyes turned to her. They stood expectant. Her ghosts seemed to stiffen, hovering at attention, as if something incredible might happen.

  “I think there are some things that need to change around here. New rules put into place. But that can wait. What can’t wait is finding all the traps Red…” She started to say Red Spotted Dick, but caught herself. “All the traps Red or Dick stole from my barn, which was locked tight. Someone sliced through the lock as if it were butter.”

  “Get a dog!” someone yelled. “You live too far out!”

  She glanced at Cecil.

  He beamed.

  I’m sure you want the job, dawg-man.

  “They could have used magic. I’ve seen it done,” another called.

  Magic? To cut the shackle of a lock? She knew about all the shifters but wasn’t aware of any real magic in these parts. She made a mental note to look into that one. “Okay, okay, okay. Enough. I’m making an agreement with you, right here and now. If I don’t restore safety and security to Charming in the next twenty-four, I’ll resign.”

  “That’s a tall order,” a man yelled. “And you ain’t tall.” He and a few others snickered.

  “But then Red would be in charge,” someone lamented.

  “Or Dick,” another moaned. “Can’t stand that man.”

  “We like you. You’ve done amazing things with our town.”

  A fickle crowd. A minute ago you wanted him and thought I did nothing right. She pumped her palms up and down, indicating silence. “Those are my terms. I won’t remain in leadership if I can’t do my job and keep you safe. Twenty-four hours. If you don’t see results, you can kiss me good-bye.”

  “With tongue?” a man called.

  Laughter spread through the group, easing some of the tension.

  Sometimes Chia felt like the only way they knew how to regard her was through sexual innuendo. Still, she smiled. “All right, have your fun at my expense. I’m used to it.”

  “You’ll never get used to me,” another man boasted.

  More laughter.

  Feeling the time right to leave, as spirits were being restored, sh
e turned to head down the side stairs.

  Cecil simply picked her up, jumped off the stage and strode through the crowd with her positioned on his shoulder like the Queen of Rules should be transported.

  Wondering if she should make a royal wave, she called out instead, “Twenty-four hours!” and ducked when they reached the doorway.

  Out in the hall, Cecil placed her on the ground. “I thought you needed a grand exit.”

  “Thank you, it worked.”

  Cecil stayed silent as they strode through the hallway, heading for her office.

  “Cat got your tongue?” Chia said, smiling.

  His eyebrows bunched together. “Hell, no. No cat’s ever going to get close enough to me to get my tongue. What a stupid idea.”

  “Why so quiet?”

  “I was thinking…” He stopped outside of her office and turned to face her. “Getting a dog might not be a bad idea. You’re out there all alone.”

  “I, uh…I have a roommate.”

  “The vamp? He’s not going to protect you. I know all about that. The pack told me.”

  “They did?”

  “Sure. We communicate better than humans. Simple. To the point. No bullshit.” He glanced at her face, saying, “Excuse my French.”

  “No worries. So…” She narrowed her eyes. “Which dog were you thinking would be my protector?”

  “Well…” he shuffled side to side. “I could use a room now and then. I’m getting a little tired of bedding down wherever I find myself. It might be nice to have my own dog house.” He grinned at her, making her laugh.

  “I don’t know, Cecil.” She opened the entrance to her small office, gesturing for him to enter. She left the door ajar, wanting privacy but not wanting Cecil to think this an intimate moment.

  The TV monitor affixed to the wall, next to photos of her shaking various politician’s hands in acceptance of this ordinance or that rule, showed Lemming News and another report about her, apparently. “Jesus, I can’t escape myself. I feel like someone produced a play with an actress who looks like me.” She turned up the sound.

  Tensions flare in Charming, the headline read. A coat and furry hat clad reporter appeared, standing in a snowbank, saying, “Tragedy has happened in Charming. This picturesque little seaside town is experiencing unexplained deaths by animal traps. We thought traps were outlawed but apparently, anything goes in the wilds of Charming, Alaska.”

  “Dag nab it,” Chia sputtered.

  “We’ve asked Red Mountainbear of Fairbanks, Alaska, to give his thoughts. Red?” The reporter listened as a picture in picture display of Red appeared onscreen. The bald man had a ruddy, pockmarked face and thinning hair. “It’s a tragedy, to be sure. Innocent lives are being lost. It seems the manager of Charming, Chia Petit, has done her best to restore Charming to its Wild West days. I’ve offered my assistance but so far, she’s refused. She’s determined to do things her way, not taking the needs of the people into account.”

  “What the? That’s all I do is take other people’s needs into account. The man hasn’t said a word to me. I only learned of his schemes yesterday.” She ran her hand through her hair, switching the channel. A scene from the old movie, The Matrix, flashed on the screen. Neo’s love interest, Trinity, ran along a wall, sideways, her gun locked and loaded. Neo cartwheeled past flying bullets. “Love that movie,” she said. “What if the world really operated under those principles? Wouldn’t that be something?”

  Neo’s face filled the screen. Sunglasses covered his eyes but Chia had the creepy sensation of being studied by him. Ridiculous. It’s a movie from 1999. She flipped off the TV. “But let’s get back to reality…mine, not Red’s asshat version.”

  After seating herself at her desk, she said, “I told you, you’re a great guy but I keep wondering if you want more from me than merely a room to rent.”

  The ghosts gathered in her lap like silvery lap cats, all piled on top of one another. Their shimmery forms produced a cacophony of sensations, from extremely pleasurable to incredibly annoying, bothering her concentration. She waved her hands vigorously through them, like creating suds in the sink, and they all dispersed. As she did this, she noticed a mass of papers she’d been mulling over for a stupid, secret project. She picked up the stack, studied the top sheet, thinking the same thoughts she’d had since she concocted the scheme—this will never work—opened a drawer and shoved them inside. She slammed the drawer with resignation.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You know.” Her face reddened. She glanced at the black and white spotted plovers skittering along the distant shore, glad her office had the soothing view. They’re back from their southern vacation kind of early, she mused. Maybe the temperature will start to climb into the forties, instead of the usual tens and twenties this season is known for. Late February in Alaska was no picnic weather.

  “I’d have to pay for it?” he spluttered, ignoring her discomfort. Or maybe he thought she’d offered him a room with paid for “benefits” on his dime. “I’m offering you protection. Loyal friendship. My services as a guard dog.”

  Chia laughed. “You’re kidding, right? Graham told me his huskies are the least likely dogs to take out a bad guy. They’re known for their sociable likeability.”

  Cecil looked like a paddled dog. Chia expected him to slink into the corner, curl up into a ball and sulk.

  “But when it comes to loyalty, companionship, and athleticism, there’s no finer breed.”

  He seemed to puff up a bit. “Right! And, let’s not kid ourselves. I’m a wanderer…a nomad. I really don’t mind not knowing where bed is at night. It might end up being next to a willing female.”

  “Just not me,” she blurted, wanting to set the record straight.

  “Whatever.” He waved his hand breezily. “I was only offering my services. I don’t lack for female companionship. But…” He strode to her desk, placed his palms flat on the beat up wood, and leaned down to look her in the eyes.

  She leaned back slightly.

  “I do have friends who are fiercer than me…real dogs…you know Shep?”

  “The German Shepherd? Sure I do.”

  “He’s vicious. I’m glad we’re in the same pack or I’d be looking over my shoulder.” He stood, putting his hands on his hips.

  Chia leaned forward, staring up at him. Tall, lean and sexy if you like them scruffy.

  His lips curved in a slight smile, as if sensing her thoughts. “Ms. Manager. Are you sure you don’t—”

  “What were you saying?” she said, quickly cutting him off.

  He tsked. “My point is, where I am, the pack usually finds me. Or we arrive and leave together. This could be a win for all.”

  “I don’t have to feed the lot of you, do I? I’d go broke from dog food.”

  “Nah. Rat snacks now and then like you offered today. A bone or two. Dog treats. That’s all they require. I’ll get them to accept you into the pack. You won’t be sorry. A fiercer, more loyal bunch, there’s never been.”

  “What about all the…you know…dog excrement? I don’t want to have to watch where I step.”

  “We’ll have to mark the yard with piss but I’ll tell them to do their other business elsewhere. They like me. They listen.”

  “Are you the alpha?”

  “What, me?” He smiled congenially, shook his head, and then chuckled. “You said it yourself, I’m not the go-to guy in a fight. I like to have fun, is all. No, Shep has that role cinched tight.” He folded his arms over his chest.

  “Where were you thinking to sleep?”

  A mischievous glint sparkled in his eye.

  “Outside. Where were you thinking to sleep outside?” Her cheeks blazed with heat.

  “I don’t really care. Spread some hay in your barn. I come in at all hours and wouldn’t want to wake you.”

  “No girls.”

  “No girl whats?”

  “No bringing home women to bed.”

  “Spoilsport.”


  “Seriously. I like my privacy and if someone like Debbie saunters into the kitchen in the morning to get coffee, I think I’ll throw up.”

  Cecil’s face darkened. “All right, all right, all right. You and your rules. So what do you say?”

  “Why not? We try it on a trial basis. It either works, or it doesn’t.”

  His face brightened. Again, Chia thought his tail would be twirling if he shifted into husky.

  “Okay, and no face licking or leg humping.”

  He tsked. “I told you when I’m in dog mode, instinct takes over.”

  “And I’m telling you if you hump my leg or lick my face I’ll plant a boot to your backside.”

  “Sheesh. You’ve got to loosen up more, Ms. Manager.”

  “One more thing.”

  “Now what?” He looked as if he might be reconsidering the offer.

  “You don’t have to call me Ms. Manager. Chia’s fine.”

  “Okay, um, Chia.” He shook his head. “Sounds strange to me. Do I have to?”

  She frowned. “No, of course you don’t have to, but why wouldn’t you want to call me by my first name? Ms. Manager sounds so formal.”

  “I don’t know. Can’t put my finger on it. How about I call you Petit? Your last name?” He pronounced with a French accent, emphasizing the first part of the word.

  “How about you get used to calling me by my name—Chia? Sheesh, Cecil, what’s the big deal?”

  His face grew red and he turned away from her.

  “Cecil…”

  “It’s nothing. Only I got sick eating chia seeds out of the garbage when I was in husky form. Threw up all over the place. Disgusting.”

  Chia blinked at him. “I’m sorry to hear that. I think ‘garbage’ is the operative word though, dawg-man. You ate the seeds out of the trash. There could have been all sorts of bacteria in there.”

  “Yeah,” he conceded. “And I quickly changed back to human when a pretty girl appeared.”

  “And what,” Chia said, laughing. “She saw you rooting around in the garbage and wanted to bed you? Cecil, you’re a hoot.”