Shifting Selves (2 page)

“Whatever. We should still get the sunglasses, though.”

“Agreed.”

“But seriously, shouldn’t we have been vetted first? Or trained? At some point, someone would have figured out we have absolutely no idea what we’re doing and decided this was a ridiculous idea.”

I was happy to be deemed incompetent if it meant we avoided the responsibility of working an FBI case. Gainful employment had sounded like a good idea when we were in the agents’ office. An hour’s drive later, with an unknown shifter’s house sitting before us and absolutely no clue what we were supposed to do, I thought we should have been assigned something a bit more entry-level to start.

Sera turned to me, one dark eyebrow raised. “We’re off the books, Ade. They don’t need to train employees who don’t officially exist. And you think they haven’t thoroughly checked us out already? Really, this is your fault. If you hadn’t told Carmichael we solved those murders, you’d still be at the cabin, doing yoga.”

When she put it like that, this didn’t sound like such a bad option.

Of course, we hadn’t so much solved the case as tripped and stumbled over the murderer who’d been hiding directly under our noses. It didn’t really say much for our investigative prowess, but I’d neglected to mention that to Carmichael. It would have interfered with our bragging rights.

“We’re just supposed to talk to them, right? That’s it?” Sera nodded, looking dubious. I shared her doubt. If there were two people alive who should know how inept we were at tactfully interviewing someone, it was Johnson and Carmichael.

She tapped her fingers against the steering wheel. “Hey, at least this saves us from having to hide the shifters’ existence any longer, since apparently some secret FBI cabal already filled them in.”

“True. But even overlooking our complete lack of training or skill in the art of interrogation, what makes them think the shifters will talk to us?” I asked, watching the house. There was still no sign of movement, not even a squirrel darting among the fir trees.

Sera laughed. “You know Carmichael wouldn’t give me any authority if he had another option. We’re all they’ve got, cause they sure as hell know the shifters won’t talk to human agents. They must think there’s a chance they’ll talk to us, what with the whole shared magical heritage thing. I guess we’re better than nothing.”

“Awesome. If we do get business cards, can that be our tagline? Utterly clueless, but better than nothing.”

She glanced at me, a quick sidelong glance, and her mouth quirked up in a smile. It was a tiny moment, but I instantly felt an answering smile pull at my lips. We were still finding our footing after years of estrangement, still adjusting to being sisters as well as friends. We were getting there, one bad joke at a time, and I treasured every sign that the bad years were behind us.

Sera fidgeted in her seat. Unlike me, Sera never could sit still for long, and few things bothered her so much as long periods of inactivity. It was a typical fire characteristic, one that had passed me by completely, along with all the physical traits. Sera looked like a classic fire, short, dark, and powerful, a compact ball of energy ready to explode at the slightest provocation. Even her hair was wild, a curly mass that refused to be tamed. I was tall, blond, lanky, and unrepentantly lazy.

I was also impetuous and quick to anger, qualities I’d long chalked up to what I’d thought was my human half. I now knew they were a manifestation of my fire side, a truth I still had difficulty accepting. Sometimes, I felt like a stranger to myself, with half my genetic code an unknown force just waiting to betray me. I’d only consciously accessed my fire magic once, but that had been enough. It had changed something within me, in that core where the magic lived.

Now, I always felt the fire inside me, demanding my attention. I didn’t know how to acknowledge it and stay sane, but I also didn’t know how to live as half a person. Lacking any answers, I was sticking with my favorite coping mechanism: denial. It might not be the healthiest strategy, but it sure beat going nuts.

Sera jerked into motion, swinging her door open. “Fuck this. Let’s go see what those furry bastards have to say. And try to let me do the talking, okay?”

I followed behind her, wondering just how long it would take us to get fired.

Chapter 2

The front door was opened by the most enormous man I’d ever seen. His shoulders filled the doorway, and his head grazed the top of the doorframe. Though I was far from an expert on shifters, I would have bet my first paycheck that this man was, like Mac, a bear.

He didn’t speak. He stared at us, dark eyes glaring beneath a heavy brow. The message didn’t require words. We were not welcome.

A quick glance at Sera suggested her plan was to match him glare for glare. Entertaining, perhaps, and I imagined a battle between the two would be a contender for magical pay-per-view, but it was unlikely to get us in the door any faster.

“Sorry to bother you. This is Sera Blais and I’m Aidan...”

He cut me off. “I know what you are.” The words were a growl, rough and deep in his throat.

“You do? That’s, ah, wonderful.” I attempted to make my expression match my words but likely failed. I hadn’t even known shifters existed until I met Simon, but every shifter I ran into seemed to know exactly what I was. With the exception of Mac and Simon, none of them seemed inclined to like me, either.

I couldn’t entirely fault them for their enmity. I was an elemental, born and raised among the old ones, and even I occasionally found our attitude a bit elitist. We were descended from the earth’s original creatures, the product of those first magical beings and humans, and we were damned proud of that history.

Shifters were also descended from those original creatures, but they were the result of matings with animals. The elementals who’d raised me refused to admit shifters even existed, so horrified were they by the thought that our ancestors dabbled in what they considered bestiality. Those that did speak of them tended to do so with a sneer, an upturned nose, and the unshakeable belief that elementals were far superior beings.

For some reason, shifters found that attitude offensive.

I forged ahead, forgoing tact altogether in a desperate need to just get this over with, already. “We’re here because the local FBI thought we might be able to assist you.”

Incredulity darkened his features. I wasn’t certain whether he was more angered by FBI involvement or elemental presumption, but considering that I was the walking, talking symbol of both those things, I realized tact might have been a better strategy.

The man spoke slowly and carefully, enunciating every word, ensuring there was no possibility of miscommunication. “The FBI thought you could help us? The local FBI who doesn’t know we exist?”

“Um, yeah. That one. If it helps, we weren’t the ones who told them about you. They already knew. We just told them about elementals, which was our right and which we had no way of knowing would lead them to you or cause them to set up a permanent task force in the region. So... surprise?”

I finally had the common sense to stop talking. I looked at Sera, indicating this might be an excellent time for her to jump in. She rolled her eyes at me once but finally decided to help. “Are you familiar with the Department of Obvious Paranormal Evidence Suppression? They’re responsible for keeping magical races hidden from human knowledge, and some shifter activity has recently been less secretive than they would like.”

Sera spoke these blatant lies without even blinking. All we knew was the agents had a source who’d indicated there were problems among the shifters, and this was the place to start asking questions. Also, to the best of my knowledge, no division of the Bureau used the acronym DOPES.

But the man before us knew none of this, and we’d obviously hit a nerve. “We take care of our own problems.” He spoke to Sera only, obviously having dismissed me and my bright empty smile. He turned slightly to face her, providing me with a view of the living room. Several people huddled on a sofa, waiting expectantly for us to leave. Tension emanated from the room, fear and worry coating the air.

“Look,” I said, stepping forward until mere inches separated me from this walking barrier between me and people I might be able to help. He turned to me in surprise, obviously expecting me to accept my dismissal. “I understand. You know what we are, and we also like to solve our own problems. In fact, Sera and I are the ones who solved the recent elemental murders. I know you heard about those. But shifters helped us, and we would have been foolish to turn them away. We’re offering you our help. I suggest you refrain from being foolish, yourself.”

It was a bold speech, and he looked torn between respect and a strong desire to slam the door in my face. Before he could decide what to do about the abrasive elementals on his doorstep, a figure appeared behind him, and the choice was made.

“Aidan?” Mac stepped into the doorway, nudging the older man out of the way. “What are you doing here?”

My heart stuttered and a familiar heat spread through my body. Usually, Mac was where I expected to find him, and I could brace for my body’s inevitable response. This time, I was unprepared, and the shock rippled through me.

I kept telling myself that this reaction was the result of years of self-imposed solitude and celibacy, an assertion that would carry more weight if I reacted like this to any other man. Perhaps it was that Mac was roughly the size of a small truck and considerably better built. Perhaps it was the way I always felt a little safer when he was around. Perhaps it was just the result of a kiss we’d shared a couple weeks before.

It was, I knew, all those things. Unfortunately, he’d given no indication that he wanted to repeat that kiss, while the memory often sent me into a slack-jawed stupor.

“Aidan?” He was staring at me, brown eyes focused intently on my face. I always had the feeling he saw me just a little more clearly than anyone else did. It was simultaneously exhilarating and terrifying.

Eventually, I remembered I was supposed to speak. “Why are you here?”

He smiled, the smallest uptick of his lips that only hinted at the humor buried within. “I asked you first.”

I shrugged. “FBI.”

He copied my movement. “Family.”

“Oh.” We all stood for another moment, no one bothering to move from the doorway. “So, can we come in, or what?”

He watched me for several more seconds, then wordlessly moved to the side, creating a small space through which Sera and I could enter the house. It was a narrow gap, and I deliberately let my arm brush his as I entered. I took a quiet breath, absorbing his warmth and scent. I suspected my libido was not behaving in accordance with FBI regulations for home visits.

The house opened into a high-ceilinged foyer, with rooms on either side and a staircase directly ahead. The home appeared to have been built sometime in the sixties, if the wood paneling that lined every wall was any indication. Wooden beams ran along the ceiling, and hardwood floors covered with throw rugs woven from natural fibers were beneath our feet. A stone fireplace, currently unlit, completed the effect of a perfect mountain cabin. It felt like the owners had done all they could to bring nature into their home.

A dining room dominated by a heavy wooden table was to our right. The living room I’d spotted earlier opened on our left, and I now had a better view of its inhabitants. In addition to the two women sitting on the sofa, a teenage boy, maybe fifteen years old, sat in an armchair. They all stared at Sera and me with blank expressions. They would not be outright rude, but they weren’t ready to welcome us into their home.

I felt Sera move to one side, Mac to the other. “This is my Uncle Will and Aunt Celeste.” He indicated the man we’d spoken to earlier and one of the women on the couch. “Their son Brandon, and Celeste’s sister Eleanor.” I nodded at all of them, trying not to stare at Mac’s family with too much curiosity. With the fearful vibe emanating from that room, it wasn’t the best time to look for a family resemblance. In truth, now that I was inside the house, I had absolutely no idea what to do next. I’d attended funerals with a more upbeat crowd.

“How can we help?” I knew I was supposed to question them in a calm and professional manner, but the words popped out. It seemed the only question worth asking.

Besides, for Carmichael to expect calm and professional from me and Sera, he’d need to show the kind of blind optimism rarely seen outside hippie communes. He knew what we were, and he’d sent us in regardless. I thought that gave us free rein to be ourselves. That’s the logic I was going with, at least.

My offer was met with a resounding silence. The two women on the couch stared at me, their faces sullen and unwelcoming.

My defense came, surprisingly, from the man who’d been avoiding me for the last month. “They can be trusted, Will.”

Will met his nephew’s eyes and tried one final time. “They’re outsiders.”

Brandon spoke for the first time, his words quiet and pointed. “Some would say the same of me, dad.” I studied the teenager, noticing that while the boy had his family’s brown hair, his eyes were a pure blue. Unlike the others in the room, who all had the dark brown eyes of a bear, he was human.

Unlike elementals, shifter powers don’t weaken if they mate with humans, so one is never a half-human or a weaker shifter. A child is simply a shifter or a human, depending on which genes they receive, and many shifters had human children or spouses.

I felt Mac shift slightly until he was standing behind me, literally backing me up. “It’s okay, Will. I know them, and they’re not like the others.”

I was so grateful for his support that I opted to overlook the implied insult to my race. Sure, the old ones needed several long months of sensitivity training, but they mainly lived inside the elemental enclaves. Outside the enclaves, we were like any other group of people, with some far more tolerant than others.

Unfortunately, even saying that some of us were more tolerant than others meant there was a lot of intolerance most elementals never bothered to acknowledge.

As if on cue, I felt my phone vibrate. Without even checking, I knew it was my mother. She hadn’t texted in hours, and she was overdue on her daily harassment. I ignored her.

Sera pointed at Mac. “What he’s trying to say is we’re not assholes. At least not most of the time.”

I nodded, trying to look sober and trustworthy. Will was unimpressed. He looked over my head, meeting Mac’s gaze. An undeniable aura of power surrounded Mac’s uncle, suggesting depths of strength far beyond his physical prowess. “If you vouch for them, they’re your responsibility.”

Mac made no audible reply, but when Will nodded and turned away, I assumed the matter was settled.

Remembering our purpose, I addressed the entire room. “I’m afraid we need more information.”

Eleanor spoke with barely concealed scorn. “Didn’t the FBI give you everything you needed?”

I nodded sagely and searched for a response vague enough to hide the depths of our ignorance. “Yes, but we need to hear your version. This is the FBI, after all. You know they don’t have all their facts straight.”

Will snorted, indicating agreement with that statement, if nothing else. “It’s James. My son’s gone missing.” He seemed to think that explanation enough.

“Has he done this before?” He shook his head slowly, as if he needed to think about the answer. I mentally changed his “no” to a “maybe.”

“Did he leave a note? Pack a bag?” This time, the head shake was immediate. In the corner, Brandon squirmed in his chair and refused to meet my eyes.

Sera also noticed. “Care to share with the rest of the class, Brandon?”

His father’s eyes narrowed on him, and Brandon found a loose thread on his shirt especially interesting. He was skinny and long-limbed, a boy still growing into his body.

“It was cold yesterday, so he was wearing his heavy coat. But today I went to borrow the other one, the lighter one, and it was gone. He had it with him.”

It was possible that once, in the course of history, a teenage boy had thought far enough ahead to plan for variations in the weather and take both his coats on a day trip. I wasn’t going to count on that happening this time, however. When James had left, he’d planned on being gone for a while.

“Any idea where he went?” I asked. Brandon shook his head miserably, and his father expelled a disappointed breath.

“We already looked for him,” he said, “and if you think for one moment that you and that useless facial decoration you call a nose have a chance of finding an eighteen-year-old boy when a household of shifters failed, then you are welcome to try, little water.”

In bare feet, I was only an inch or so shy of six feet. Granted, Will still towered above me, and was probably twice as wide, but I found I didn’t much care. I was decidedly unused to being dismissed as a little anything, and I had no intention of starting now. “Nah, you’re right. I’m sure me and my decorative nostrils would be no help at all. Sera, can you do anything to find this kid?”

As always, she easily caught her cue and answered without missing a beat. The fact that our audience might not appreciate our routine was irrelevant. “I could light a fire, maybe. Smoke him out?”

“That assumes he’s in the forest somewhere. And really, with all the water around here, a fire could be easily stopped. It was a wet winter, you know.”

“Fair point.” She nodded, appearing deep in thought. “We really ought to find someone with a connection to the forest. You know, they could communicate with the earth, see who’s walked over it lately.”

“That’s an excellent idea. Or maybe we should find someone who can talk to the water, see who’s been crossing all those lakes and rivers, going where even the best shifter nose can’t follow?” I took a step toward Will, a smug smile tugging at my lips. I stood up to my full height and looked him directly in the eye. I still had to tilt my head, but I was close enough to prove there was nothing little about me. “I wonder where we could find anyone like that?”

He stared back at me. His eyes, I realized, were a shade darker than Mac’s chocolate brown ones, but he had the same broad, honest face. Even in the midst of our standoff, I found myself inclined to trust this man, though I reminded myself that didn’t mean much. Lately, I’d been trusting all the wrong people.