Shift Work (Carus #4) (2 page)

“Lucien hated looking weak,” I mumbled.

“Exactly.”

“But if I was still bound to Lucien, his death would mean mine.”

The falcon in my head screeched.

“Well, Allan’s not an idiot. Maybe he suspected and you answering the phone confirmed it.”

I grumbled. On one hand, had I not answered the phone, the Vampire court would’ve assumed I died, like all those blood bonded to a Master Vampire. The horde certainly wouldn’t waste resources searching for me. In fact, the Vampires would finally leave me alone and stop thinking of ways to use me.

On the other hand, I needed a job, and with Lucien dead, my main reason for avoiding the Vampires had been removed, quite literally. The horde now represented a potential employer. As much as I hated Vampires, I didn’t need to like them to take their money, but I would need a good explanation for my beating heart. No one blood bonded to Lucien would survive his death, including Clint, and… A shiver lanced up my spine and struck the back of my skull. Wick! “Oh, god.”

“Shhhh.” Tristan ran a hand up my arm. “Wick and his pack aren’t blood tied. Just like my Vampire Master’s death didn’t kill me, Lucien’s will have no ill effect on Wick’s life, nor anyone in his pack.”

Lucien had possessed certain skills as an older Vampire. His age and strength made it possible for him to bind two humans servants—me and Clint—and call wolves, any wolves, to do his bidding. This meant Lucien had controlled Wick and his Werewolf pack, just like Tristan’s previous master, who called leopards, had controlled Tristan and his pride. This special skill also meant Lucien had no need to blood bond Wick to make him do what Lucien wanted.

A long breath escaped my lungs, and I tried to ignore Tristan’s intense scrutiny of my face. Tried. It didn’t work. Sometimes his perceptiveness freaked me out. He read me too well. I hadn’t spoken Wick’s name out loud.

“It does have one effect,” Tristan said.

My heart pounded in my chest again. “What’s that?”

Tristan smoothed my hair down and tucked a strand behind my ear. “He’s free.”

“Oh,” I said. The pronoun didn’t need a name. Wick’s tie to Lucien had ultimately led me to break things off with him. Too many times, Lucien had used the Alpha Werewolf against me, and I couldn’t take the pain anymore. Did his freedom change things? I looked into the deep blue of Tristan’s eyes, sparkling even in the dim light, and smiled. No. I’d made my choice a month ago. I leaned forward and planted a kiss on his full lips.

****

The rain abated a little during the day while Tristan and I ran errands. The little things we did together, like buy oatmeal and coffee on a lazy Sunday, brought us closer and melted my heart. He held my hand as we walked down the aisles and read labels as if we cared about caloric intake. As a Wereleopard and Shifter respectively, Tristan and I didn’t need to worry about what we ate like norms did. The transformation process took so much energy, we could binge on junk food every day and still look trim and in shape. The fashion world would love us except we often wore T-shirts and sweatpants for easy shifting.

Tristan had been uncharacteristically quiet all day. Sweet, but not his normal talkative self. Not possessing the same perceptiveness as he did, I had no idea what had sent him into deep-thinking mode. Maybe he worried about my job prospects as much as I did. I’d been essentially unemployed since dispelling Lucien’s mark from my body.

At the end of the day, Tristan and I went to the bedroom to change. Tristan for bed, me for Vampire Court. Since Allan knew I still stalked the mortal realm, I may as well find out if I could continue working as the ambassador between the Vampire court and the SRD without a blood bond.

Tristan turned to me, gloriously naked. “Does this change anything between us?”

“What do you mean?” I pulled a mint green shirt over my head. I tugged a pair of ripped skinny jeans from my bottom drawer and mentally selected the flats I’d match with the outfit. I could fly to Lucien’s, or Allan’s place, but I didn’t want to beg for a job naked or in a house robe. “I’ve been involved with the Vampire court since we met.”

“Do I need to say his name? The one that still hangs heavy between us?”

With my jeans still in my hands, I bit my lip. Well, something did
literally
hang heavy between us. My gaze drifted down Tristan’s toned body. I licked my lips.

Tristan cleared his throat. “I’m up here.”

I shook my head and forced my gaze to make eye contact. “No. I made my decision.”

“Good.” Tristan’s shoulders relaxed and he stepped in close. His ran his hand up my arms to cup my face. His lips pressed against mine hard, and he quickly deepened the kiss while pulling me into his muscled body. The air sucked out of my lungs, leaving me breathless and lightheaded. He always had this effect on me—as if oxygen was inconsequential, as if I could live without air as long as we were together.

He pulled away too soon, and traced a finger along my bottom lip. “Good,” he repeated.

Still gasping for breath, I clutched the pants in my hand. “I’m going to the Vampire court to ask for work. Why’d you get me all hot and bothered?”

Tristan smiled. “Trust me. Smelling like you do right now will only help your chances of employment.”

I growled, but Tristan just laughed and swaggered into the bathroom. With the tangible need to follow and give him a goodbye kiss of my own, I tugged my jeans on and turned toward the living room instead. Tonight, I needed a clear head to get a job—one that didn’t require any blood swapping.

Chapter Two

“You must give up the life you planned in order to have the life that is waiting for you.”

~Joseph Campbell

The cool air caressed my face, carrying with it the deep fragrances of blood, death, and decay. Lucien’s grand hall seemed less grand and
emptier
as I walked down the red carpet to stand in front of the former Master Vampire’s austere, throne-like chair. Allan sat in it, barely. He perched on the edge with a rigid posture and looked ready to leap off at the slightest provocation.

As a Carus, I possessed more than one animal familiar, known as a fera, to shift into. With one of these forms so dark and filled with malice she scared even me, Allan’s restlessness made sense. Not that I could necessarily take him down surrounded by the horde, but I’d do some damage if I felt compelled.

Allan. The largest Japanese man I’d ever met. Easily standing over six and a half feet, he packed about three hundred pounds of muscle, and a brain bordering on genius. Smart and strong, he could read my mind like I devoured books. My skin prickled at the reminder, and I forced myself to reminisce about the forest behind my parents’ old house.

Allan’s lip twitched, but he said nothing as I completed the final steps to reach him. We studied each other for a silent minute, or five. My skin itched to shift to a mountain lion, and my palms began to sweat.

No sign of Clint. Was the death of his master the one and only thing that could kill him? Despite defying all reason, I doubted it. He’d been pretty indestructible until now, surviving a torn out throat and getting shish-kabobbed with a sword multiple times. The hairs on the back of my neck prickled my skin as they rose. Did that pervert run off somewhere to plot my demise?

“You look remarkably alive for one tied to a Master Vampire.” Allan broke the silence.

“As do you, for one who’s actually a member of the living dead tax bracket,” I replied.

“Second-in-commands are not blood tied for the sole purpose of a more streamlined succession. We’re blood sworn.”

Blood sworn to prevent them from backstabbing their masters. He didn’t need to explain. As the name implied, Vampires in a horde swore an oath in blood to their Master. This oath worked much like the relationship between an Alpha and his pack or pride. It prevented underlings from going against the word of their Master or from betraying them. There were ways around blood oaths, though, just like ways existed around an Alpha’s order, or telling the truth.

“Did you do it, then?” I asked. “Kill Lucien?”

Allan’s eyes narrowed. “Did you?”

“No, not that I didn’t want to.” I opened my mind so he could read the truth from me. The mountain lion cohabitating in my head hissed at the move. She didn’t like company from the “outside.” Allan would see everything, even my revenge plotting. Allan would also see the anger simmering beneath my skin because someone stole my revenge.

He pulled his cuffs down. “You couldn’t kill Lucien when your life was tied to him, and it’s no secret you despised his control over you and his methods of…persuasion. Many suspect your hand in his true death.”

Methods of persuasion, my ass. The blood flowing in my veins grew hot as memories of Lucien’s “methods” flooded my mind. The Master had promised to gut Wick repeatedly and make me watch unless I did as he ordered. Fetching coffee for the egomaniac would’ve been tolerable, but his tasks either caused great shame and debasement, or put me and loved ones in danger. Allan was right. I had plenty of reasons to kill Lucien. I’d spent the last month thinking of ways to pull it off and get away with it.

“Well, it wasn’t me.”

“So I can see. Thank you for opening your mind. You can shut it now. I have no interest in seeing what you’ve been up to with your pussy…cat.”

Jackass.
He meant Tristan, but Vamps couldn’t resist the not-so-original play on words. “You’re hilarious,” I said.

Allan shrugged.

We studied each other for another long minute. “Why did you call me?” I asked.

“Courtesy.”

“How’d you know I survived Lucien’s death?”

“After making his inner circle blood swear to secrecy, he told us about your little blood bond escaping trick.” He leveled me with a dark look. “You’re fortunate someone took his life. He had plans for you, kitten. For retribution.”

My heart played hopscotch in my chest, but I ignored it. Allan didn’t tell me anything I didn’t already suspect. Lucien couldn’t take the blow to his ego without reacting, and it was only a matter of time before he sought revenge.

“How’d it happen?” I glanced around the room, looking for…what, exactly? Not sure. A pile of ash with a sign stuck in it reading “Lucien’s Remains.” The vacant chamber held nothing but the stench of Vampire and cleaning products. The room had been freshly sterilized and only the recent milling of surviving Vampires had ruined the clean smell. No ash, no blood spatter, no signs of a struggle. Maybe the true death didn’t happen in this room.

“That’s none of your concern,” Allan said.

“As the ambassador between the Vampire Court and the SRD, a supernatural death is exactly that—my concern.” I held my breath.

Allan chuckled. “You were the ambassador between
Lucien’s
Vampire Court and the SRD. You were also
absent
for the last month. Now that Lucien is gone, it is my court, and I have no wish for the meddlesome SRD to be needlessly involved in my affairs. Especially not with a representative who most of the surviving Vampires believe assassinated Lucien. At the behest of the SRD, no less.”

I choked on my breath. “But can’t you use the liaison thing to your advantage?”

“Do you honestly want me to use you, little kitten?”

I froze.

Allan smirked. “I thought not. I am doing you a favor by releasing you of your service.”

“Do I get a severance package?”

Allan laughed. He could’ve just said no.

Chapter Three

“When given a choice between two evils. I typically choose the one I haven’t tried yet.”

~Mae West

There’s nothing I despised more than the thought of walking into the SRD’s downtown headquarters to face Agent Tucker. Except facing Agent Tucker
and
asking for reinstatement as an agent. My hand clasped the cold metal handle, and I yanked the glass entrance door open. The stale and fresh scents of norms and supes flooded my nose. When I woke up late this morning after my visit with Allan, I realized I needed to do something more proactive about my work situation. Unfortunately, that meant the SRD and one particular agent.

Agent Tucker Fucker. ATF.
How do I loathe him? Let me count the ways…

Elizabeth Barrett Browning probably groaned in her resting place as I adapted and butchered her work as a mental mantra to gather self-restraint. Hopefully, she’d forgive me. Only hatred this intense led me to revise and spout poetry.

I padded across the massive foyer of the SRD’s downtown headquarters and nodded at my Witch neighbours who stood at the security desk. We’d gotten off on the wrong…note…but now, I counted Ben as one of my best friends. I loved this guy.

“Hey.” Dirty blond hair hung in his eyes when he glanced at his clipboard. He and Matt guarded the SRD from unwanted visitors. Their naughty list would include me very soon. “Didn’t expect to see you until tonight.”

“Yeah.” Matt looked up from the computer, green eyes twinkling. “We’re still on, right?”

“Of course.”

“Then why are you…” Matt trailed off. “Oh.”

“Here to beg for a job?” Ben asked.

I might’ve vented about my lack of job prospects with the Witches on more than a few occasions. They held as much optimism for this option as I did.

“I don’t think it will come to that,” I said. Inside, my mountain lion yowled at the thought of such a submissive act. My falcon screeched.

Peck!
she said, over and over again, while replaying memories of Tucker’s bugged out eyes from when I strangled him.

“I do. No way ATF will let you off that easy,” Ben said, using our acronym for Agent Tucker Fucker. Another reason he was one of my best friends. We’d joked about using FAT for Fucking Agent Tucker, but came to the agreement we couldn’t get away with saying it in public as easily.

“No. I don’t either,” I replied. “But it won’t come to that because I’m not going to let it go that far. If he says no, he says no.”

“And then what?” Matt asked. “I can tell you right now, you won’t make it as a freelance singer.”

I scowled at him. “No. But maybe I can do something else freelance.”

Ben’s lip curled up, and Matt started laughing. To them, “freelance” referred to prostitution or stripping, but among assassins, it meant something entirely different.