Chapter 1
J E N N I F E R
A storm’s coming.
I stare at the overcast sky through the canopy of leaves. It’s not as nice as laying out in the woods—I have to stare through the glass of a greenhouse—but it’s better than a white ceiling. Little streams of rain tumble down the glass ceiling.
The smell of wet dirt and leaves, even in the city, is the closest I feel to nature.
To freedom.
But the dreary clouds and smell of rain—a mood I always vibe with— is not favorable for what we have to do tonight.
Just another complication.
“You are dramatic, sitting there like that,” Seth says, entering the only room of The Shift that doesn’t make me feel claustrophobic.
I hadn’t invited him out here, as we are like oil and water and he promised to stay at the bar. Sometimes, I thought they paired him with me just to rub salt into the wound, a reminder that they own me. I mean, who pairs a shifter wolf with a vampire?
“Oh, whatever,” I say. “I am a wolf that’s forced to live in concrete buildings. You know our woods are off limits right now while they repair the bridge,” I reply, scratching my cold nose, sinking more into the plush lounge. “At least this green house feels like the woods when you just look up at the sky.”
I’m not a literal wolf. At least, not in that exact moment. I can turn into one though, a large grey beast with red eyes. There are many shifters like me, and many variants, like panthers or bears.
Seth is still out of my vision, but his scent permeates. Vampires are easy to smell, always carrying a scent of iron and death.
“You’ve been out here long enough,” Seth says. “Time to sit at the bar with me. Our patron is here.”
I sigh, staring at one leaf in particular. It’s green, like the rest, but the color had lost the vibrant glow known to upper Washington in the summer. There’s a yellow undercast now.
Fall fills me with mixed feelings, as it’s undeniably glorious, but once the leaves drop from their limbs, all that’s left is bark. Plain, lifeless bark.
And we are supposed to have a long winter this year.
“Fine,” I say, knowing not to argue.
I stand up, pressing my hands on my knees, thrown back into the reality that I am a chained tracker, not a free wolf in the wild.
Seth and I are visiting a bar in downtown Davenport, at a place called The Shift. As the name implies, it caters to shifters, which means the place is sectioned off into rooms with nature—such as the one that I am in—or into areas like the basement for the brooding breeds.
Think of it like a bar with many additions for the supernatural kind.
But my vampire handler and I aren’t here to relax, despite being an hour early.
“How do you feel?” Seth asks, looking me over.
“Fine. I just needed to clear my head before we begin.”
I look at Seth, who blends into the darkness of the bar behind him, standing in the open doorway. The sun is starting to set, dulling the brightness of the world around.
“You act like you never get to go outside,” Seth says, his dark brown eyes narrowing as he casually leans against the door frame.
“Well, I don’t. The woods that the Stewards gives us is just two acres. Basically nothing more than a playpen.”
Thunder rumbles in the distance, and the rain patters harder on the glass.
“Whatever. Let’s go,” the vampire orders, looking me over.
I stare at his long, pale face before he turns around and heads into the main bar that the greenhouse is attached to. I worked with him for five years, and I still can’t read him.
His dark brown eyes, encased by dark thin, inky eyebrows, always bore into mine with the endless depth that only a vampire could give; like they are judging every curve of your soul.
“Shouldn’t you be avoiding the sun at all costs right now?”
His back’s to me, his shoulder-length, black hair slicked back. “I can afford to come fetch you for a moment. Plus, the sun is setting and it’s about to storm.”
Vampires, contrary to history, don’t burn in the sun. I’m not quite sure where that rumor came from, actually. Perhaps Dracula really didn’t like sun and his diva personality later became misconstrued by popular media.
Vampires do, however, need to avoid the giant flaming ball in the sky if they want to maintain their full powers. They’re still a threat to humans, but become easy pickings for other supernaturals. It has something to do with their skin and how the UV rays penetrates it, the brightness always burning their eyes more than anything else. Seth once described it as a serious irritation, like trying to function in a sauna that has every light blaring in your face.
“Where’s our guy now? The one we are stalking tonight, not your current rendezvous,” I ask, stepping into the bar as the door shuts behind me. Wooden floors creak underneath us.
“At the apartment on South Street. Movements are as usual. We will meet our new patron here, then leave around eight, stake out the grounds until nine, and then our target for tonight should be making his final move. Two birds with one stone tonight.”
“Sounds like a plan, boss,” I reply, with an admitted edge of sass.
Seth pauses and turns to face me, looking down as he’s a solid foot taller. “It won’t be a problem that you and the target had a previous encounter, will it?”
I swallow thickly as I stare him down. Laughter erupts from the main bar while we remain in the hallway. I always feel out of place at The Shift, even if I enjoy their greenhouse. It’s such a fabricated environment.
“No, it won’t,” I say, only half lying.
The way his eyes focus on me...he clearly senses my falsity, like a damn walking lie detector.
“Stay on target, Scott,” he warns, using my last name. Jennifer never sounds right on his lips anyway. “Or the Stewards will keep you from the forest for the rest of fall.”
“No,” I counter, powerless like a child protesting bedtime. “You know how cruel that is. That’s like giving you fake blood.”
His black eyes loosen some of their hostility. Even Seth has to admit that the Stewards—the bounty hunter organization that owns us both—treats the shifter wolves like we are a bunch of Cinderellas, and the Stewards our copious amounts of step-siblings.
Everything we do is wrong. Every mistake deserves a lengthy punishment. They dress in nice clothes while I wear rather plain leathers, jeans, and shirts that are all well-worn with time and mended holes.
We are their pawns.
“I know,” Seth admits, giving me his back once again. I follow him like a lost puppy, because he’s all I know. “But neither of us chose this. So, we either follow the Stewards, or they punish us. The mystic will never let us leave.”
I hold my breath until my lungs burn for air, breathing deeply. He’s right, and I hate it.
The Stewards raised us both since we were young, Seth much older than I, although he looks to be in his thirties. We both know our roles.
It’s not our place to question bounties, only to get the job done.
Despite that, this is the first mission where I am particularly anxious to face our target.
Tonight, I want to see if I can get the target alone, to break all of the rules, and to even help them.
And Seth is deep in my shadows, like a hungry vampire smelling blood in the air.
