Chapter 5

FIVE

Fortunately, we didn’t have to wait much longer for Faris to finish his conversation. About the time I finished my ginger ale, he approached the bar with what I was beginning to recognize as his resting angry face.

“We’re closed for the rest of the night,” he told Seamus. “Put the word out. I’ll address Talia’s concerns and see her off afterwards. You’re free to go. Same for Irene, Isaac, Kyle, and Alicia. Emberly can go after she balances the receipts. Oliver can go home and rest, but I’d like Nico to stay until we’re through. Have him board up the door and put in a call for a new pane.”

Seamus nodded. “Whatever you want, boss. What about Raine?”

Those piercing green eyes turned on me, but I couldn’t read them at all. Faris had said I’d done nothing wrong, but I couldn’t tell whether he was angry, curious, thankful, or apathetic. Every one of his tells seemed to have gone flat.

“We’ll talk tomorrow,” he said after a moment or two of consideration. “Kira, can you and Draven drive her home?”

“I’ll take myself home, thank you,” I said firmly, tilting my chin and meeting his eyes without flinching. I didn’t need anyone else seeing where I lived, or with whom. And after this, they should at least be willing to believe that I could take care of myself. “When am I expected to report tomorrow?”

One of Faris’s eyebrows shot up, but he did not otherwise react. “Take the afternoon off. Be here at six. It’s a Saturday, so even if we manage to get the repairs done in time to open, the larger crowd won’t show up until after dinnertime. Should give us enough time to settle things.”

Settle things. Whatever that meant.

“I’ll be here.” I stood up and turned towards the kitchen. I needed to get my jacket and my hat and head out before exhaustion got the better of me and I snapped. Today had just been one shock after another, and even I had my limits.

“Raine.”

I stopped at the sound of my name in Faris’s deep, growling voice.

“Yes?”

“You did well today.”

I jerked back around to look at him. My surprise must have been evident, because the intensity of his expression eased.

“Don’t worry. I’m not going to fire you. Yet.”

All I could do was nod. I was exhausted and frustrated, but this, at least, was a relief. I still had a job.

“Thank you,” I said coolly, and left before they could read any other emotions on my face.

The mile and a half back to the hostel began to look more like ten by the time I’d gone three blocks.

It was after midnight, and the streets outside Bricktown were nearly deserted. With the sun’s warmth long gone, the wind was cold enough to cut right through my shirt and still-damp jeans, and I shivered as I trudged along the sidewalk, arms wrapped around my chest.

Maybe I should have accepted the offer of a ride, but the less knowledge anyone had of my situation, the better. Only one more mile, and then I could change into dry clothes, collapse into bed, and sleep until Ari’s enthusiasm woke me up.

Twice, I thought I heard the sound of heavy footsteps behind me, but when I checked, there was no one but the wind.

There weren’t many other pedestrians out and about, but once I crossed over Classen Boulevard, I noticed a group of boys clustered just off the sidewalk in a vacant lot near a gas station. A few of them started laughing just as another one kicked out at something on the ground. I heard a pained sound in response and forgot how tired I was as rage coursed through my veins.

They were torturing something, or someone, and I didn’t stop to consider much beyond my own fury. Exhaustion forgotten, I charged into the middle of the group and spotted a half-grown kitten trying to stagger away.

With a muttered curse, I scooped it off the ground, tucked it against my chest and turned to face its tormentors.

“That’s enough.”

One of the boys hit me with a flat, blank stare. “It’s enough when I say it’s enough.” He followed that up with a string of colorful expletives—including creative commentary on my parentage and probable profession—and punctuated his statements by spitting on my shoes. His aim, at least, was commendable, even if his character, personality, and hygiene were not.

In a fight against a single opponent, I could handle myself well enough. These boys couldn’t have been much more than fourteen, and didn’t carry themselves like trained fighters, but there were six of them and one of me, and I was carrying a cat. Not to mention there was no way of knowing whether any of them carried weapons.

But I didn’t make the mistake of glancing around to see if I could count on any backup. Even if someone was watching, it was unlikely they would risk themselves for a stranger.

“Why pick on a helpless kitten? She can’t fight back.”

“Maybe I just like to hear her squeal,” the boy responded, his light-colored eyes brightening with something that looked a lot like crazy. “Maybe I’ll make you squeal instead, little girl. Can you squeal louder than a kitty?”

“I don’t know.” I met his mad stare without flinching. “But I’m game to find out if you are. Are you man enough to pick on someone your size without your posse to back you up?”

I’d hoped it would make him come at me on his own. If I could handle the leader, it was less likely the others would risk taking me on. But this group clearly fought as a pack, and they attacked without any need for direction.

I evaded them for a moment or two, even got in a few solid kicks that I knew would leave bruises, but they came at me with fists and feet… and a club. The boy carrying it wasn’t as stupid as I’d hoped—he swung for my legs, eventually getting in enough good hits to drop me to my knees on the sidewalk.

But all I could think about as I fell to the ground, curled my body around the kitten, and tried to protect my head, was whether I was a fool to continue denying my magic.

Were Kira and Seamus right? Was I only endangering others by refusing to use this dangerous power that coursed through me, rising higher and wilder with each blow? Should I give in and set it free? Accept that it was a part of me and try to be worthy of the agonizing cost?

I could even promise myself that I would only use it for good causes—like flattening these petty tyrants. Teaching them never to pick on something tiny and helpless again.

But even with the heavy blows still raining down on me, I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Not when I had Ari and Logan to protect. Not when I’d heard the screams of terror and devastation echoing down those corridors, and knew the true price that had been paid for the power I now possessed.

Besides, once I let go—once I set any part of it free—that would only open the floodgates for more. And who knew what fresh horrors I might learn about myself and what had been done to me?

A boot crashed into my ribs, and I grunted with pain, but I did not scream. I wouldn’t give them the satisfaction.

Until a hand grabbed my hair, tilted my head back, and a pair of wild gray eyes stared into mine with bloodthirsty glee.

Something in me snapped.

Like a chain or a tether… breaking.

My body contracted violently. My vision changed. My perspective shivered and widened. Colors went flat and strange.

And then I was leaping for the boy’s throat with a vicious snarl. It was unlike any sound I’d made before. Unlike any feeling I’d ever had. The world was suddenly bright and loud and visceral, and all I wanted was his jugular between my teeth.

But the boy wasn’t there anymore. He’d been snatched away by the back of his collar and hung in the air, dangling from the grip of a towering, auburn-haired figure with fiery amber eyes.

“Humans torturing a shapeshifter?” The shifter king’s voice rumbled alarmingly as he loomed over the boys, presenting a palpable threat simply by standing there. “That violates at least three laws that I know of, but if you’d prefer, we can forego the police and you can attempt to hit me instead.”

The boy in his grip began to struggle and kick, but it was like spitting on a forest fire—ultimately stupid and probably deadly.

“Or”—Callum’s voice somehow managed to become even more menacing as his eyes glowed brighter and he pulled the dangling miscreant closer—“you can recognize a superior predator when you see one, and run .”

His hand opened. The boy fell in a sprawled out heap, rolled away, scrambled backwards, and then tripped over his own sagging pants before finally finding his feet. His friends were halfway down the block already, so after screaming meaningless threats and making one last crude gesture in Callum’s direction, he turned and slunk away.

Callum let out a sigh that sounded at least as much annoyed as it did exhausted before he turned around and directed that amber gaze towards me, with a quick detour for the kitten huddling beside me on the concrete. Speculation narrowed his eyes, and I opened my mouth to explain, but…

All that came out was a high-pitched yip .

I looked down.

I was standing on paws. Four of them—small, furry, and white. No wonder the dragon looked so huge. Turning my head, I caught sight of an enormous, fluffy white tail and when I tried to turn to get a better look, my whole body went in a circle.

And then I fell over.

A whine escaped my throat, and I began to tremble with something akin to panic.

I’d shifted.

Yet another piece of my control, broken beyond repair. I’d spent all these years suppressing the competing magics raging within me, and now, in a single day, those efforts had been ruined. First with my elemental power, and now—thanks to a moment of misguided idiocy—I’d changed into a tiny white fox.

And the king of the shapeshifters had seen me do it.

Or maybe he hadn’t. When had he arrived? Did he actually know it was me or could I still maintain my secrets if I could manage to get away?

“Raine.”

Okay, there went that theory.

But maybe running was still an option. Without a sound, I whirled and bolted, but I hadn’t accounted for the extra legs. Before I’d taken even two staggering strides, I was lifted off the sidewalk and dangled in the air, just like that unfortunate teenage delinquent.

“Stop running,” Callum commanded sternly, his gaze pinning me in place. “You’ve never shifted before, have you? Did you even know you had a shifter parent?”

I squirmed in frustration, trying to escape his grip, but he held on, even when my claws raked the skin of his arms.

“You may need help to shift back,” he growled. “I can help you, but you have to stop trying to take my arm off.”

Shift back? I stopped thrashing. Saw my clothes lying in a heap on the ground. I was going to have to change back, but then I would be…

Oh, heck no.

My body twisted wildly as I resumed my efforts to escape. Today had been bad enough without appearing naked in front of the shifter king.

“All right.” Somehow, Callum still hadn’t reacted. Still held me in that gentle but implacable grip. “I’ll set you down, but if you run again…”

I turned my head and bit him.

I genuinely didn’t mean to—at least not seriously—but I needed to get away, and had no other way to say so. I felt my teeth sink into his wrist, heard him swear, but he didn’t fling me away, or even drop me from that height. Instead, he lowered me carefully to the ground before releasing his grip, and then I was already running.

The hostel wasn’t far. I just needed to hide until he stopped looking for me. Just needed to find a small, dark, place where I could curl up and be safe…

Wait, no. That wasn’t me. Those weren’t my instincts. Those were the fox’s instincts. I needed to get back to Kes and Ari and Logan. Needed to focus. Not get lost. My paw landed on something sharp and I almost yelped, but swallowed it at the last moment. I didn’t want Callum following me.

Come to think of it, why had he been following me in the first place? Didn’t the king of all the shapeshifters have better things to do than stalk homeless waitresses with poor impulse control?

Worry suspended my flight, and I came to a stop among the thick weeds of a vacant lot. If Callum was still on my trail, I couldn’t afford to lead him back to the hostel. It was one thing for Faris to know where I lived. But a shapeshifter could potentially catch the scent of the kids’ magic. Might have the ability to determine what had been done to them. I couldn’t risk it.

At that moment, I could make out no sound of footsteps, no deep voice calling my name—only the rush of traffic from nearby Interstate 40, the lights of an occasional car, and the wail of a distant siren. So, like an idiot, I decided to confirm that I was alone.

My tiny white paws were at least good for sneaking, so I was able to slink back to the scene of my mistakes without making any undue noise. Between the darkness, the uncut grass, and the shadows from the gas station’s lights, I crept close enough to see where I’d originally fallen.

The tall, broad-shouldered form of the shifter king was still there—crouched on the sidewalk, enduring the scrutiny of one scruffy, injured stray kitten.

As I watched, the scrawny orange and white feline let out a pitiful cry, limped towards the looming figure, and rubbed up against his leg with a chest-rattling purr that my fox ears could pick up even from a dozen paces away.

For a brief, tense moment, worry for the tiny creature tugged at my heart. In my experience, the powerful and privileged didn’t care what became of those who could do nothing to help them. Callum was probably frustrated with me for risking my life to help a cat that likely wouldn’t live out the week.

“So you’re the reason that foolish fox decided to get involved.” His voice was still deep and harsh with disapproval, and I felt my ears flatten against my head with annoyance. How dare he judge me? I would take that risk a hundred times over before I would choose to be the sort of person who could walk away while a helpless creature was in torment.

One huge hand reached down to scoop up the purring kitten and bring it up to eye level. It looked so tiny against the backdrop of his powerful form. So fragile as he held it cradled in his strong hands.

I held my breath. Ready to dart forward if he showed any sign of trying to hurt the already injured feline.

“You don’t know how lucky you are, little one. You’ve survived today. But what will you do tomorrow?”

Callum stood up. Looked around. And somehow I knew… He was perfectly well aware of my presence.

“You can’t run forever, Raine. Not from this. I can help you, but I won’t waste my time if you’re determined to remain in denial of the fact that you’re a shifter.”

I shut my eyes. It sounded… so tempting. What I wouldn’t give to find someone who could help me deal with all of my competing demons. Someone who might know how to cope with all this power, forced into a body that had no clue what to do with it.

But Callum had no idea what I truly was. And he must never, ever get an idea, or my life would end up looking a lot like that kitten’s—lonely, brutal, and short.

Without another word, he set the kitten down, turned his back, and strode away. Back towards the lights and the life of Bricktown. Back towards a world that was safe and easily understood, where everything fit neatly into boxes, and no one challenged his concepts of right and wrong.

The kitten gave another loud, pitiful cry, and hobbled after him.

Honestly, I couldn’t watch. Even in this unfamiliar form, I felt like crying. I knew this was the reality of life, but it still broke me to hear that desperate wail of loneliness and pain.

I would have taken her with me, but she would only see me as a predator now, and I had no hands to carry her. In many ways, I was just as helpless as she was, and I would have cursed if I’d had the capacity for human speech.

Instead, I started to slink away, weighed down with pain and frustration and the exhaustion of carrying my own secrets in addition to all the things I wished I could fix in the world.

I heard a muttered curse from behind me. Heavy footsteps. So I looked over my shoulder, and watched as the grumpy, suspicious, ridiculously handsome king of the shapeshifters picked up the kitten, glared at it for a moment, then tucked it against his chest and walked away.

I told my heart to shut up, turned on my furry paws, and headed for home.