Dead Shifter Walking (5 page)

“Please call her in,” I said, grinding the steel
bed frame against my palms.

Darren left with Mark while Jerry waited in the
hallway.

“Jerry,” I called.

“Yes, Olie,” he said softly.

“I’m going to need to you run back to the manor
and get a change of clothing for at least a week for me and
yourself.” I turned to look at his ashen face. “I also need you to
see Grams and have her arrange a replacement for me at Kitten.”

He nodded. “Please go now,” I said gently.

Without a word, he was gone. I heard the front
door close a few moments later.

A minute later, Darren and Mark arrived with a
disheveled woman in a dark blue robe between them. “What can I help
you with?” she asked me rubbing sleep from her eyes.

“You are to stop all medication to her this
instant,” I said to her shocked expression.

She recovered quickly. “I’m sorry, but unless
you have a license to practice medicine, I do not take orders from
you,” she finished smugly.

“You’re fired,” Darren said. “Pack your
belongings; Mark will drive you home tonight.”

She was stunned silent; truthfully so was I. I
must be his last hope, and he was placing all of his faith in me;
no pressure. I took a long inhale.

“Darren,” I said gently, “I might be able to
change her mind.” The threat of being fired, I am positive, had
just helped my cause.

Not losing the scowl, he nodded, moving towards
his daughter and reaching for her hand. “Don’t,” I whispered.

He looked up, shocked. I took another deep
breath, coming to stand by his side. “Every emotion you feel right
now will be transferred to her with your touch: your fear, your
hopelessness, your guilt, everything. She will feel it if you touch
her,” I explained.

He looked like a puppy I had just kicked.
Pressing my hand to his, I said, “I can help her,” infusing into it
all the hope I could muster, “but you have to listen to me.” He
nodded, a single tear slipping down his cheek.

The nurse stepped forward and demanded, “How do
you know that?”

“Because she is exactly the same as me,” I said,
meeting her stare.

She scoffed. “She is a shifter, not a succubus,”
she said with extra emphasis on that word, indicating her disgust
for my kind.

“Get out. You are not to be in this room without
my supervision,” I said. “As soon as her feeding tube and the
breathing machine have been removed, your services will no longer
be needed.”

I nodded to Mark to remove her; without
hesitation, he took her arm, ignoring her squawking.

Turning back to Darren, I slipped his hands in
my own. “She is a shifter, Darren, she just has an extra power,
being part succubus,” I finished, worried he would view his
daughter differently. Seeing no change in his worried gaze, I
pushed on. “I’ve sent Jerry back for supplies for him and myself. I
need a room for him, and I’m staying here with her.”

I wasn’t sure he heard me, still watching his
pale sleeping angel. Even her blonde hair looked dingy. She was
dying; I couldn’t deny it.

“What did I do wrong?” he questioned, looking at
me with a broken heart.

I squeezed his hand. “Nothing. You did the best
you could.” I sighed. “I’m guessing your late wife had latent
power, and when she died, Hannah’s own came into full bloom. It’s
overwhelming when it happens like that, especially if you don’t
know what’s happening. The sedatives she was on helped to give her
extra time, but eventually, the continual dimming of our emotions
led to death, every single time.

Mark came back in the room, looking at us.

“Jerry will need a room prepared,” Darren said
softly, not looking away from Hannah. “Have the rollaway brought in
for Olivia.”

Mark nodded, heading out. I pulled my hand away
from Darren, and he finally looked at me, nodded once, and
left.

I breathed a sigh of relief; I had my work cut
out for me.

I checked my phone to find a text from Grams.
Trouble?

I answered back, noting the time was after 5
a.m., No worse than the usual. Coverage for Kitten?

She responded, Rose is better.

Perfect, that was one item off my plate. My
phone buzzed again, Don’t forget, Morgan and Tate both wish to
speak with you. They called again inquiring after you.

I had forgotten all about them. One crisis at a
time; right now they don’t rate.

I set the phone down as a maid came in with the
bed and set my watch alarm for three hours.

Chapter 3

The soft ping from my watch had me instantly
alert and aware. Hannah’s breathing still came from that awful
machine, but, without the drugs, I could feel her emotions stirring
slowly, as though underwater.

Pulling down the comforter, I made use of the
facilities. Jerry had been back during my nap with my favorite
duffle bag. Sorting through it, I saw that it was relatively
untouched by Grams's cleaning. I changed into my favorite yoga
pants and pulled my now dry hair out of my braid, letting it fan
around my shoulders in waves. Checking my jacket pocket from last
night, I found my mp3 player; scrolling through, I put my classical
mix on, breathing deeply, and shaking out my limbs.

What I had to do next was critical, absorbing
her emotions since her mother had died, when everything began. I
hated this part; I had so much of my own misery, I didn’t want
anyone else’s. Pushing out a breath, punctuated by my nerves, I
shook out my arms.

Sitting cross-legged on the end of Hannah’s bed,
I picked up my phone and sent a text to Jerry. You here?

Yes, you need something? he replied.

Don’t let anyone in until I text you, I
responded, turning my phone on silent.

Had I mentioned I didn’t want to do this?
Trepidation left a sickening lead weight in my empty stomach; no
time like the present to dive into crap that could kill me. I
swallowed the fear, anxiety, and insecurity that threatened to
bubble up and choke me. I asked myself the same question I always
did, was I willing to die for her? The answer predictably was yes,
so I began breathing deeply and centering myself, making sure my
tightly woven core was quiet.

On my third exhale, I pushed my focus outside my
body, hovering just above my skin in perfect golden color. Fourth
exhale, I formed a tendril of my consciousness into a whip I needed
to break the bubble of Hannah’s emotions. But if I drew too large a
hole, I wouldn’t be able to contain it all, and she would feel the
burden of the excess trying to get out, hampering my ability to
keep her calm.

Fifth breath, I pulled my whip back cracking it
against her core, and thus began an onslaught of a year’s worth of
emotions that ripped toward my soul like a tornado. The first wisps
were as dark as night, and, once they made contact, I fought to
maintain my ability to breathe.

Inky coils of tar coated my very existence with
hopelessness so deep and vast there was nothing else, a despair
born of loneliness and the inability to understand why her mother
left or why her father had such potent and volatile anger.

The ache cut a clear path across my chest,
burning into my heart until tears spilled down my face.

Gritting my teeth, I fought against it all,
braiding and coiling until my eyes ached from being clenched closed
and my nails stabbed angry cuts into my palms. Still I pushed on,
shaking my head and pulling in a clean breath, my tank top felt
damp from the sweat pouring down my back.

Onward I pushed with no sense of time or
release, seeing only darkness until there was nothing left to pull.
The silence weighed heavily; the air felt stagnate and overly warm.
Behind my closed lids, I pushed everything I had pulled from Hannah
into a metal ball, sealed the edges in fire, and dropped it into
the pit of emotions that weren’t mine. It made a loud clank to my
own ears. How many more could I pull from? How many more emotions
that weren’t mine could I absorb? I was worried I would tap out
someday, be too full to help anyone else; but realistically, I
wouldn’t live that long. I pushed that thought away as well.

Dropping my chin to my chest, I felt around for
my phone, slowly opening my eyes to ward against the rolling of my
stomach and the dizziness in my head.

I texted Jerry, I need the nurse.

The door slowly opened; I didn’t turn to look.
“Get everything out of her,” I commanded hoarsely. Crap, had I been
screaming?

The nurse shook as she complied with my
instructions. There was a form behind her, but I couldn’t focus
long enough to see who. Once she had completed the task, I pulled
my energy from Hannah like a blanket being withdrawn from her
sleeping form, and miraculously, her eyes opened.

I finally lost consciousness.

The emptiness was a welcome reprieve but it
still couldn’t drown out the voices around me.

“How?” Darren asked. “How?” he repeated shock
registered in his voice.

“Ain’t my place to know,” Jerry replied.

“It’s been a full twenty-four hours and she
hasn’t moved at all,” Mark stated, slightly worried.

“She’ll be fine,” Grams answered. “She did a
draining pull; this is to be expected.”

“Do you know how?” asked Darren.

I heard the rustling of fabric and the patter of
tiny feet that could only be Hannah's. Gently, she pressed her tiny
lips to my cheek, and then patted my head a little roughly. “My
Olie,” she proclaimed.

I would have smiled had I the ability.

“It’s your brother, Darren, he’s sending out a
representative, given Hannah’s sudden improvement and enhanced
abilities,” Mark warned.

“That selfish bastard,” Darren said softly.

In the background, Hannah’s baby talk sounded
innocent and gentle.

I never met Darren’s brother Logan in person,
thankfully. We traveled in the same circles occasionally when I
worked security for Grams during political meetings and such boring
events. He was the head of shifters for the entire United States.
Why was he interested in Hannah? He was her Uncle; I understood the
emotional attachment, but the representative did not bode well.

As succubi, we did not advertise our existence
to supernaturals or humans, but those in certain circles knew who
we were and what we did. Well, I should amend that; the majority
simply thought of us as magically gifted strippers and/or whores,
and I was perfectly content with that undervaluation of our skills.
Hannah’s enhanced abilities rolled around in my brain as darkness
descended yet again.

…

It wasn’t the yelling or the thumping outside my
makeshift sleeping quarters that did it. Hannah’s soft sobs broke
into my private darkness, forcing me out. I was on my side, facing
the door and the empty medical bed when my eyes finally did open
into partial daylight.

I scratched my three-day-old hair, maybe four
days old; oh, who was really counting, anyways? Sitting up, I tried
to get my body to start cooperating.

“Olie,” Hannah screamed, her tiny feet pounding
as she ran from behind into my arms.

I kissed her blond locks, inhaling jasmine. “Hi,
baby girl,” I croaked, looking for water.

Jerry came from my side, handing me a cup. “How
long have I been out?” I asked, noting the strain on his face and
worry, as the noise outside the door started up again.

“Three and half days,” he answered, not looking
at me.

“What’s going on?” I asked.

He sat down next to me on the rollaway bed.
“Hannah—” he started then stopped as Hannah’s head popped up
glaring at him.

“They say I wrong,” Hannah said, her bottom lip
pouting out.

“Really?” I asked, stroking her hair. “Why is
that?”

“Cause I make…” she screwed up her face, not
sure of the words, “I make them all feel like me.”

I nodded in understanding, holding her close.
“There is nothing wrong with you. That is our greatest strength,
being able to make people feel like we do, but we can’t do it all
the time.” She pulled away to look at me. “That’s why you will have
a special teacher to help you.”

She smiled, bouncing in my arms. “Really?”

“Yes, but right now, I think we need to deal
with the commotion outside,” I said, turning my attention towards
the door.

“Jerry,” I asked gently.

He grunted his response, worry clouding his
normally carefree eyes still staring at the door.

“Thank you,” I said. I had known him for less
than a week, and he stayed here with me, ignoring the risk to
himself and keeping Hannah and me safe. I think he might even
deserve a raise.

He took a deep breath. “They told the shifter
representative the same explanation; he wants to take you and
Hannah for testing in Chicago.” Now he turned his attention to me.
“I wouldn’t ever leave you.”

I smiled and sighed. “Why can’t you be
straight,” I demanded playfully. “Bi maybe?” I asked hopefully.

He smiled as his carefree youth returned.
“Sorry, darling.”

“Oh, well,” I sighed dramatically. “Guess I
better go deal with this representative.”

I stood, stretching my stiff limbs.

“You sure you’re alright?” Jerry asked as I
reached the door.

“Eh, aside from needing a shower, right as
rain.” I smiled, opening the door.

Darren and Mark were doing an excellent job,
keeping two goons away from the door as another, I assumed the
representative, waited impatiently for his opening.

“Gentleman,” I said, closing the door quietly
behind me and crossing my arms defiantly over my chest, “your
services are no longer needed.”

I smiled uncoiling long thick braids of rope the
mental exercise feeling long overdue after three days of rest.
Rolling my shoulders, I leaned a hip against the doorframe looking
for a fight.

Darren and Mark looked a little worse for wear,
but nothing that would leave a lasting mark.