Autumn's Blood: The Spirit Shifters, Book One (8 page)

The voice on the other end was
muffled, but she recognized it instantly. “Mia, you need to come
back to the office.” She heard her assistant sniff, her breath
hitching. She was trying not to cry.

“What is it, Tina? What’s
wrong?”

“I’ve just opened a letter from the
State Department. They’re cutting our funding.”

“What?
Did they say why?”

“Only that the tough financial climate
has meant they’ve needed to make some difficult cuts. I guess we
were one of them.”

Mia tried to stem the worry bubbling
up inside her. “I’m on West Washington Street. I’ll be with you in
fifteen minutes.”

Chapter
Seven

BLAKE WATCHED AUTUMN leave the
building, her smart suit jacket pulled up around her ears in
protection against the cool evening. As she walked, she reached
behind her head and unclipped her hair. The spiral blonde curls
fell around her neck and shoulders, and she ran a hand through them
to shake them loose.

How would those curls feel
beneath his palm? Soft like silk?

He shook the thought from his head.
This was business. He couldn’t let himself think in such a
way.

Blake didn’t feel the cold, one of the
benefits of his metabolism running at an abnormally high rate. The
other advantage was his ability to stay in shape, without an ounce
of fat on his body. Despite this, he didn’t take his physique for
granted. Though he never stepped into a gym, he made sure his
apartment had enough equipment to allow him to work his body to the
point of exhaustion. He didn’t work out for vanity, but for
practical reasons. He hated the possibility of getting into a
situation only to be beaten simply because he wasn’t strong
enough.

Out of habit, to fit in with the rest
of society, Blake wore a black leather jacket, though he had no
need for the item. His skin burned hot beneath the insulated
material and he knew he’d be more comfortable if he were able to
strip off both his jacket and t-shirt and walk bare-chested in the
cool evening air. Instead, he turned up the collar, a mimic of
Autumn’s actions, and broke into a jog after her.

“Doctor Anderson,” he called gently.
“Wait up.”

She turned as he caught up with her.
“Oh!” She clutched a hand to her chest. “You startled
me.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to.”

She gave him an expectant half-smile,
a slight worry in her eyes, probably at being on a street alone
with a man twice her size.

“I wondered how your first day
went.”

Autumn arched an eyebrow. “Are you
sure I’m allowed to talk about it?”

She surprised a laugh from him. “To
me, you are.”

“Good to know.” She smiled and stuffed
her hands into her pockets. “I can’t exactly say it went well, but
it’s early days yet.”

“Do you think you’ll be able to
complete what’s been asked of you?”

“You’re not going to go back and
report to the boss, are you?”

He laughed again and she smiled at the
sound. “No, I promise.”

Autumn started to walk once more, and
he matched her pace. “What he’s asking has never been done before,”
she said. “Plus, the lack of information I have on the subject
matter doesn’t help.” She turned to face him, her eyes narrowed
slightly. “You know where the samples came from, don’t you? You
know what this … species is?”

Blake hesitated, considering his
answer. He didn’t want to give her any information to help her; the
last thing he wanted was for her to succeed at her job. That didn’t
mean he couldn’t give her information which might send her down the
wrong track.

He opened his mouth and the words
wouldn’t come out. He couldn’t lie to her. “It’s classified,” he
finished lamely.

She rolled her eyes. “What a surprise.
I guess I’ll have to do my time before anyone will trust me enough
to tell me what’s really going on.”

“What do you think is going
on?”

“Honestly?” She looked to him for
confirmation and he nodded. “I wouldn’t be surprised if the samples
come from some kind of alien species.”

The thought of them being aliens made
him laugh again.

She frowned, though the corners of her
mouth twitched. “What’s so funny? You don’t think there’s a chance
of another life form existing in the universe
somewhere?”

He grew serious. “Are you asking me if
I believe in the paranormal, Doctor Anderson?”

“My name is Autumn, and, yes, I guess
I am.”

“Then, the answer is absolutely. But
surely, as a scientist, the paranormal is the last thing you should
believe in.”

“I believe that almost everything we
now put down to science was once considered to be
paranormal.”

He studied her
face.
Smart, beautiful, and
open-minded.
There must be something wrong
with this woman. Across the foot of space separating them, the
warmth of her skin radiated toward him and he could smell her
shampoo and the faint residue of perfume she must have applied that
morning.

She must have caught the way he was
looking at her, because she slowed to a stop. “What?”

In his head, his wolf growled a
warning.

He couldn’t allow himself to get
caught up in a woman, especially not this one. He forced himself to
step away, to straighten his shoulders, and harden his jaw. “A
scientist who believes in fairy tales doesn’t seem like a very good
scientist to me.”

Her eyes widened in surprise at his
comment. “Is that right? And that’s coming from a guy who uses his
muscles as his career.”

“Is that what you think? I’m no more
than Dumas’ muscle?”

“Aren’t you essentially a pumped-up
security guard?”

He held her gaze and her cheeks
flushed deeper. “I am so much more than that.”

He turned and walked away, leaving her
standing on the street. He felt her eyes bore into his back as he
left.

AUTUMN WATCHED THE infuriating man
storm down the street. What the hell had gotten into him? One
minute they’d been having a perfectly normal, interesting
conversation, and the next he’d almost turned on her. And the way
he looked at her, as though pinning her with his eyes. Had she ever
come across someone who was so damn intense?

She regretted what she’d said about
him being a piece of muscle. Perhaps she’d reacted unfairly, but
he’d touched on a nerve. She’s spent her whole career being judged,
first for her appearance and secondly for her youth. Men in the
late stages of their careers regarded her with both resentment and
disbelief as she managed to achieve breakthroughs in their field
that had left them stumped. She wished she understood the reason
for being so good at what she did, but she was simply given a
problem and could see the answer. There were plenty of times in her
life where she’d wished she didn’t have her talent, or perhaps that
she was older and the opposite sex. When she’d been at school,
she’d been skipped ahead several years, so all of her peers either
looked down their noses at her, or else thought she was a little
freak. Plus, she’d blossomed into her looks. As a teenager, she’d
been tall and skinny with a halo of frizz-filled hair. Now, she’d
learned how to appreciate and dress for her slender, tall frame,
and had discovered the miracle of frizz-fighting hair products. But
despite all this, she had her job hanging over her and there
weren’t many men who found science sexy.

Yet now, Blake Wolfcollar had managed
to imprint himself upon both her skin and mind. How could she want
to hit someone while simultaneously wondering what he looked like
with his shirt off?

She exhaled a slow, measured breath.
What she needed now was a long, hot bath so she could turn her
latest project over in her head, and that didn’t mean including
Blake in her thoughts. She was being paid a large sum of money to
do a job, and she needed to concentrate on that.

A sudden urge to speak to her father
washed over her, despite the two of them having a bit of an awkward
relationship. He felt responsible for her mother’s death, though
there was no way he could have either predicted or prevented
it.

Anytime she had a puzzle involving
science, she wanted to run it by him. Not being able to talk about
this particular project was going to be beyond frustrating. Plus,
she wondered if they couldn’t talk about her work, would they have
anything to talk about at all.

She sighed. She wished she was able to
talk to him about normal things fathers were interested in—baseball
results, a latest DIY project, even politics. But he was so
involved in whichever project he was currently working on he’d
often forget to even eat, never mind take any interest in the world
happening outside of the lab, including his own
daughter.

Still, weeks had passed since she’d
last seen him, and the sudden spat with Blake Wolfcollar had left
her with a deep-seated need to be around the familiar.

She lifted a hand to flag down a
cab.

AUTUMN PAID THE driver and climbed
from the cab. Paint peeled from the front door of what had once
been an immaculate house. Thick grime coated the outsides of the
windows and weeds sprouted between the steps leading up to the
residence.

Professor John Anderson still lived in
the family home where Autumn had grown up. The house was a huge,
five-bedroom townhouse on the North Side, with several living rooms
and a huge kitchen. Her father barely used much of the house,
keeping the rooms shut off, with dust cloths covering the
furniture. In the unused rooms, he kept the blinds closed, both to
keep the sun off precious furnishings and pictures, and also to
keep prying eyes out. The result was a house that looked like no
one had lived in it for years. The only rooms Professor Anderson
kept in use were the kitchen, the bedroom he’d shared with his wife
until her death, the en-suite bathroom, and the
basement.

The basement was where her father
spent most of his time. Years ago, when Autumn had been small, he’d
had the space converted into his own private laboratory.

Autumn rang the bell, only to discover
no sound emitted from the device. She rapped on the front door with
her knuckles and waited. No movement came from inside. She reached
into her purse. She still had a key, but didn’t like to use it.
This place didn’t feel like her home anymore. She knew he’d be in.
He never went anywhere except for the few occasions he was called
outside of the city for work. Now that he’d retired, those
occasions had grown less and less.

Giving up waiting, Autumn let herself
in. A pile of mail teetered and spilled across the hall as she
pushed open the front door. She bent and scooped most of the
letters up, dumping them on the hall console.

“Dad?”

No response.

Autumn sighed. She knew where he’d
be.

Down the hall, a door led beneath the
stairs.

She descended the brightly lit stairs
into the cellar to find her father at a workbench, bent over his
equipment. He hadn’t even noticed her arrival, and she took a
moment to study him, checking if anything about him had changed in
the past few weeks, if there was anything she should be more
concerned about than usual.

She had gotten her long limbs and
height from him, though he wore it in a gangly way, so he often
didn’t appear to have control of his own body. She’d also inherited
his blonde curls, though they’d long since fled her father’s pate.
His hairline was less receding and more receded, leaving a pink,
naked scalp.

Autumn audibly cleared her
throat.

He looked up from his work, peering at
her from over his safety goggles, a pipette of clear fluid held
poised in one hand. “Autumn? What are you doing here?”

She risked a smile. “Hi, Dad. I got a
new job.”

“Another one? What was wrong with the
last one?”

“Nothing was wrong with it, Dad. The
contract ended.”

He looked back down at his work and
dropped fluid from the pipette onto a slide. “Oh,
right.”

“So don’t you want to know what the
new job is?”

He shrugged and leaned over the
microscope to inspect what he was working on. “Sure.”

“I’m working for the government. I
can’t say much more than that, but it could be interesting. Really
interesting.”

She waited for a response, but none
came. Instead, he switched the slides beneath the scope.

“Dad?” she prompted.

“I’m sorry, was there something you
actually wanted, Autumn?”

“Um, no. Just to visit with my
dad.”

“Well, you can see I’m kind of busy
here, sweetheart. So if you don’t mind ...?”

“Oh, right.”

Hot tears burned behind her eyes, but
she refused to let him see them. Why did she think things would be
any different? He was always busy. Even when she’d been a child and
had lost her mother, he’d been busy. In fact, after her mom had
died, he’d thrown himself into his work rather than face up to the
fact that she’d gone. He seemed to have forgotten that his daughter
hadn’t died at the same time as his wife.