Page 25 of Shift of Destiny
“Are shifters born or made?” Her tone had a thread of wariness.
“Both.” He knew she needed the truth, unpleasant as it could be. “And yes, it’s possible to force the change on compatible humans. Most shifters find the thought appalling, worse than rape or slavery, but there are always a few.”
Another turn took his attention, meaning he couldn’t see how she was taking his revelations.
“Just like people, I guess. Most are good, but bad people make the headlines.” She sounded sad.
He wanted to reassure her, or at least touch her, but he needed both hands to drive. “It can’t be done by accident, like with a scratch or a bite, if that’s what you’re worried about. It takes deliberate intent by both human and beast, and takes a couple of days.”
She was silent after that. He wished he knew what she was thinking, but driving fast in the dark took concentration.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her pick up the heavy flashlight she’d confiscated and lean down to slide it into her backpack.
Oddly, the little mirrors on her sleeves started to glow red.
“Shit.” She grabbed onto the dashboard in front of her. “Pick a new direction, because we’re headed toward trouble.”
He braked as hard as he dared on the uneven road, then cranked the wheel. The back wheels fishtailed alarmingly as he punched the accelerator.
The mirrors on her hoodie stayed red.
He slammed on the brake, fumbling with her seatbelt. “West. Up the hill. I’ll be right behind you.”
She grabbed her backpack and gave him a scared look before opening the door and scrambling out. Her magic flared, and her mirrored hoodie went dark, almost as if the mirrors were casting shadows on her, making her harder to see. He put the truck in park and grabbed the keys, then launched himself out the open passenger door, slowing just long enough to shut the door. He caught up to her and helped her up the incline, then scooped her into his arms again.
“Stop right there, hero.” The loud command dripped with sarcasm and menace.
Three men flicked on flashlights and emerged from the darkness, carrying rifles. The biggest man wore a beard and a sneer. The blond next to him looked antsy, and the older, gray-haired man on the end looked bored. They had the preternatural silence of predator shifters, but they also had no scent. Chance felt a frisson of Moira’s magic, and necklaces on each of the men briefly glowed. Suddenly, he got a noseful of wolf shifter scent. Definitely blood-bound wolves, from the sinus-clearing bad odor of death. Her magic must have overpowered whatever concealment talismans they were using.
A night owl’s hunting cry pierced the night. All three men glanced at it, then back to Chance. He hunched his shoulders diffidently and willed them to dismiss him as an ordinary human. Thanks to the magic in his blood, they couldn’t scent him unless he let them.
The bearded man pointed at Moira. “Give us the woman and get lost.”
Chance tightened his arms, but she put a firm hand on his chest. “They want me, not you.” She closed her eyes. Her magic flared and settled like a fine net on his skin.
“Listen to her, pal,” said the blond man. “We don’t care about you. She’s a witch and a shifte--oof!” His words cut off when the biggest man elbowed him hard.
The bearded man crossed his arms. “She’s a shifty thief. Now hand her over.”
Chance reluctantly let her down. She stumbled to one knee, and he bent low to catch her.
“You’re hidden, like I was. I hope.” she breathed in his ear. “Find me.”
She straightened up, and as she did, her backpack faded into a shadowed outline. Without a backward glance, she walked calmly toward the bearded man. Her mirrored hoodie seemed to reflect the flashlights. She walked right up to him and dick-punched him, hard.
He collapsed to his knees, wheezing.
“Hit me again, Richie, and you’ll need both hands to piss.” She opened her fist and blew a handful of rock dust into his face. “Now I won’t even have to touch you.”
She turned to the blond man. He raised his rifle. “Keep away from me.” He backed into the older man, who snarled and shoved him off.
Chance honored Moira’s gift of a distraction by using it. He crouched and leapt high and to the side, onto the eight-foot-tall boulder. He crouched again, then jumped twice more to the higher rocks behind it, giving him a bird’s eye view of the action.
“Where the fuck did he go?” growled the blond man. “He can’t have gone far.”
“Later. You two take her to the van,” Richie wheezed. “Pruhon expected her in the holding cell by midnight, and that was an hour ago. I’ll take care of the human, then find the Witzer brats.” Richie climbed to his feet and handed his rifle to the older man. “Take this, or Adam will want to play with it and probably shoot his foot off.”
The blond man waved his gun to indicate the slope that led to the road. “Walk, bitch, or we’ll tie you like a turkey and drag you.”
