The Promised One (The Turning Stone Chronicles) (15 page)

Some grief was too great to hold until midnight.

Chapter 26

Shaw held the romance book in front of him and studied his reflection in the mirror. If he could change into a real person, could he look at a picture and become that person, too?

Since the cop in the bank had mistaken him for someone else he needed a safer get-away identity. Scared the hell outta him. There was no way she could have known him, and he sure didn’t know her. He’d probably picked some ex-con off the street as a getaway personality. Stupid mistake. Couldn’t afford to do that again.

The image in the mirror blurred as the now-familiar tingle of transformation ran through him. He was getting the hang of this thing. No more heart attacks either.

Cocking his head to one side, he examined the chiseled features forming on his face. Damn, he was handsome. If he didn’t have Lulu, he’d use this face to score a few women. He felt a tug in his chest and immediately shoved thoughts of Lulu away.
Don’t want no freaking boobs shooting out.
The sensation in his chest eased and he relaxed.

He concentrated on the model’s shaggy blond hair, watching his short, sandy hair bleach out and grow several inches a second until it matched the model’s flyaway mane. Shaw moved side-to-side checking out his new body. Broad shoulders, muscled arms, trim waist. The only part of him that remained was his piercing blue eyes.

Satisfied at the transformation, he willed his own features back and ran his hand over his chin. Time for a shave. He peered closer at the mirror, squinting at his reflection. Was that gray in his beard?

I’m too young to go gray. Must be the stress of all these jobs.
He flipped his electric shaver on and buzzed the stubble off.
Only one more big job and I should have what Lulu needs for the wedding. Then I’ll put this ring away for a rainy day.

On his next robbery he planned to hit the upscale jewelry store where he had been a janitor. Pretending to be one of the regular customers-a distinguished guy, about his size, with a limp-he’d hit the joint as the customer and morph into the guy on the cover of Lulu’s book for his escape. Then he’d present Lulu with a pile of cash, some pearls for her neck and ears, and the engagement set he stole earlier.

Satisfied, Shaw ripped the cover off of the book and pocketed it—just in case he needed to refresh his memory—changed into the store customer, and shrugged into the expensive suit coat he’d stolen. He wanted to be at the jewelry store before the clerks opened.

When the clerk arrived at nine a.m., carrying the bank bag under her arm, he was waiting for her. He crossed the street, limping with a stiff right leg like he’d seen the customer do.

“You’re here awfully early, Mr. Pawling,” she said as she dug in her purse for the store key. “We’re not open yet.”

“I know,” he replied, “but it’s real important I get something this morning. Can I come in and shop now?”

The key stopped halfway to the lock. “Mike isn’t here yet. I really shouldn’t let you in.”

“Have you been in love?” he asked sadly, shifting his weight onto his left leg. He rubbed his right knee.
Why was it hurting
?

The clerk tipped her head to one side. “Trouble with the missus?”

“We had a horrible fight last night and she’s leaving for her mother’s on the ten-thirty flight to LA.” He tapped his stolen Rolex wristwatch. “If I don’t get to the airport before she leaves with a big peace offering . . .” He stopped, put on what he hoped was a forlorn expression, and sighed deeply. “I haven’t been away from her since we got married.”

“Ahh, how sweet.” The clerk’s face melted into a puddle of sympathy.

Gotcha
.
All women are suckers for love
.

She raised her hand to her mouth, chewing on her thumbnail indecisively, the keys dangling under her fist. He suppressed the urge to take them and unlock the door.

“I’d like to, Mr. Pawling, but I really shouldn’t.” She lowered her hand.

He stepped closer and his right knee buckled. Placing his shoulder on the window to steady himself, he blocked her from street view and reached into his jacket pocket. “Then you leave me no choice,” he said, as he shoved the gun barrel against her side. “Open the damned door and let’s go in.”

The metal keys rattled against the glass door like a wind chime in a storm as she opened it. “Don’t hurt me, Mr. Pawling, please.”

“Just do as I say and everything will be okay.” He limped into the store. “Lock the door behind me.”

She nodded vigorously, her ponytail bobbing, and obeyed.

“Now, give me the bank bag and the keys and step behind the counter, the one with the pearls and diamonds, and open it.” He poked her in the back with the gun and she stiffened. “If I don’t see your hands, at any time, I’ll shoot. Understand? No punching silent alarms.”

“Okay,” she squeaked. “Whatever you say.” She opened the case he indicated. “Now what?”

He took a canvas tote bag from his coat pocket. “Empty the case into this.”

The clerk scooped the jewelry into the bag, her hands shaking so much that she dropped a pearl and diamond necklace on the floor. She bent to retrieve it.

“Forget the necklace. Hands where I can see them,” Shaw ordered. “Now lay on the floor, over here beside the door.”

She handed him the bag and walked to the spot he indicated, her legs wobbling like a drunk’s. “Please don’t kill me, Mr. Pawling. I swear I won’t tell anybody it was you.”

“Don’t matter if you do. I’ll be gone by then.” He backed away from her toward the door, pocketed his gun, and dropped the bank bag into the canvas tote. “Count to one hundred before you move.”

“Okay,” she whispered.

Another store clerk appeared as Shaw unlocked the door.

“What are you doing in here?” Then he spotted the girl on the floor. “Are you okay, Cindy?”

Shaw drew his gun, pointing the barrel at the man. “Get down on the floor with her.”

The clerk lunged at Shaw. Cindy screamed as the gun went off and her coworker reeled back, falling onto the floor beside her.

Shaw looked at the gun then at the fallen man. “Shit! Why did he do that?”

Cindy scrambled over to her coworker, crying when she saw the blood staining his shirt.

“Call the paramedics as soon as I’m gone,” Shaw said. “I didn’t mean to hurt him.” Then he left, dragging his right leg behind him.

Chapter 27

Please don’t let that be Rhys.

Alexi wiped the last of the tears on her tee-shirt sleeve, squinted through the peephole, and blinked. A figure stood on the other side, a male and female face mingled together. She shifted to her alter ego to increase her ability to sense if the visitor was a shifter. Pinprick tingles raised the fine hair all over her body. The visitor was definitely shifted.

She let her body melt back into her female form. No need to let the visitor see her alter ego. Pressing her cheek against the wood, she concentrated on bringing one face into focus. The woman’s face slid back a layer, bringing Eli’s craggy features to the forefront.

Alexi opened the door. “Is someone following you, Eli?”

“Nay, lassie,” the Scotsman said, smiling as broadly as his accent. “Twas yer first test. I was trying tae discover if ye could see the man in the woman.”

As she watched, the vestiges of the female face disappeared, leaving a solid image of Eli’s features on the face.

“I take it from the Cheshire cat grin I made the grade.”

“In a bonny fashion. If there twas any doubt in my mind aboot yer destiny, ye gone and taken it away.”

“Great. Just what I wanted to hear this morning.” She closed the door with a bang that made Eli jump.

“No need tae git so het up aboot it, lassie. ‘Tis a guid thing.”

She waved the old man toward the kitchen. “Not to me. Would you like some coffee?”

Eli trailed her, letting out a low whistle as he glanced around at the mess. “Twas there a war in here?”

“I sent Rhys away this morning.”

He sat down on the only empty chair. “And he threw the kitchen at ye?”

“No.” She set a coffee cup down in front of Eli. “I clean when I’m stressed.”

Eli rotated the cup and read the decal plastered on the side. “Best Cop on the Force.”

“Not that one.” She plucked it from his hand. Rhys had given that mug to her for her birthday last year. She tucked it in the crook of her arm and scrounged around on the counter for another.

“Don’t fash yerself aboot it. I’m a tea drinker anyway.”

She poured coffee into the mug and cradled the cup in her hands. Lifting it to her lips, she tongued the edge wistfully.

“Twas the right thing tae do,” Eli said gently. “Ye know it in yer head. Ye just need time for the heart tae heal.”

“How much time? Never mind. Don’t answer that.” There wasn’t enough time in eternity for her to get over Rhys. She rested her hip against the counter and set the mug down. “So tell me, what was this first test?”

“Can ye see the woman in the man, too?”

“Woman in the man? Man in the woman? What do you mean by that? Is it another Gaelic proverb?”

“Ye saw through my female alter ego tae the real man. Can ye do it the other way? Have ye seen through Sylvia when she’s shifted tae her male side?”

“I’ve never seen Sylvia shifted, so I don’t know if I can or not.”

“How do ye do it?”

“I don’t know. It’s like two images mixed together.”

“I dinna understand.”

“Are you familiar with those optical illusion pictures of the hag and the beautiful girl?”

“Aye.”

“It’s kind of like that. Both images are there, but if I concentrate I can bring one to the forefront.”

“But how did ye know tae bring the male one out?”

“Baron asked the same thing. I don’t know how that works. It just does.”

“So the ego comes tae the front naturally?”

“I guess. I’ve only done it with you and Baron. Both times it just happened by concentrating and trying to figure out what was really there. Baron got real excited when I did it.”

“Was he trying tae get ye tae draw it out? Testing ye?”

She shook her head. “No. I came home one night and he was in his alter ego. The face was blurred. I didn’t know what was happening. I thought my sight was going bad.”

“Did he teach ye how tae see the other? If he learnt ye maybe we can figure out how tae draw out the other egos.”

“No. Something just kicked in and I could separate the two images.”

“When was that?”

“The first time happened a few weeks before he died. Why are you both so excited about this?”

“Because, lassie, ye’ve done something no one else has ever been able tae do. Ye’ve accomplished one o’ the final proof tests of a Promised One.”

Great. There’d be no escaping the destiny now.

“Try agin, lassie,” Eli urged. “A Promised One needs tae be able to obtain the third ego.”

“I can’t,” she said flatly.

She’d let the old man prod her into shifting into Garrett and mimic shift multiple times, subjecting to her all kinds of stresses so he could test her ability to hold the shapes. She’d answered all of his questions about when every skill had been acquired. They’d played shifter hide-and-seek. She’d found him every time, much to his delight. She’d done all those things without question, but no way would she reveal to him, or anyone else, anything about her third ego. Only Baron knew that and he was gone now. If that was the last piece he needed to make her a Promised One, she’d hold that back forever.

“Yer lying.”

“You sound like Baron.”

“He was a man o’ integrity, who believed in the truth. I’m a man o’ integrity, too, lassie.” He paused, letting her think about what he’d said. “I’ll ask you agin, have ye obtained yer third ego?”

“No.”

He clucked his tongue, letting her know he was not satisfied with her answer. “We’ll let it go for now. Just ken that I ken ‘tis a lie.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“I can see it in yer aura.”

“Really?” In the mirror over the sofa, she examined the rings of colors surrounding her. “Baron never told me that.”

“Twas wise o’ him tae do so. A child is less likely tae get in trouble if she kens she’ll not get away with it.”

“It worked,” Alexi said, laughing. She’d been afraid to do anything wrong. Baron always called her on her small fibs.

“And speaking o’ auras, tell me what ye see in mine.”

“I can’t tell if you’re lying, if that’s what you want to know. Can you teach that to me? It could come in handy dealing with Sylvia.”

“Only a few shifters have the ability. ‘Tis a gift—or a curse, depending on how ye view it, that I canna give tae anyone, except maybe tae my children. But I havnae any bairns.”

“Like potential Promised Ones?” she asked, hoping one more test proof failure might release her from the hated destiny.

“It shows in some with the potential. ‘Tis helpful, but not necessary. But back tae the subject. What do ye see in my aura?”

Alexi concentrated, bringing Eli’s aura into focus. “Rings of the purest green, tinged with gold.”

“Isnae there any red?”

“A little, the color of your hair.”

“Do ye know what it means?”

“The ring’s aura? All the shifters I’ve seen have predominately red and green auras, with tinges of other colors.”

Eli removed his Turning Stone ring. “Now what do ye see?”

Alexi watched as his aura shimmered, shifting from green to pure gold, the edges softened with clouds of purple. “It’s faint, but I can still see the red and green of your ring aura.”

“By the Druid’s beard! Ye can?”

“Yes, but your natural aura is different. Gold with puffs of purple. I’ve never seen an aura like this before. Even Baron didn’t have those colors.”

“Do ye ken what it means?”

“I’ve figured out the dark, muddy colors are bad. I see them on criminals.”

“And the light pure ones are the opposite. If ye see me as gold, even without the ring, ye can be certain that I’m not one o’ the bad ones. Ye can trust me, Alexi, like ye trusted Baron.”

Despite what he said, and what she saw, she believed she could trust no one like she had Baron. But, with time and more proof, she might be able to rely on Eli. It would be nice to have another shifter to lean on.

“‘Tis been a long morning,” Eli said, stretching his arms out. “Let’s take a wee rest from testing.”

Alexi plopped down on the sofa, relieved. “All this testing hasn’t given me any idea of what you plan to do to help me find Baron’s killer and ring. What plan did you develop while you slept?”

“The first thing we have tae do is get ye beyond the need for revenge.”

“Who says I want revenge?”

“Och, lassie. Dinna try tae fool me. I can see, plain as the nose on yer face, the darkness o’ revenge and hate swirling round ye. If ye start hunting without ridding yerself o’ such things, ye’ll only pull more black into yer soul. Ye dinna want that, do ye?”

She had to admit she’d been driven to find Baron’s killer . . . and not just to retrieve the ring. She wanted whoever had murdered her uncle to pay. In the darkest bouts of her obsession, she pictured giving the killer a horrible death. She’d come away from those experiences feeling exhausted and dirty. Carrying such a load wasn’t easy, but letting his killer get away wasn’t an alternative she’d allow.

“I’m doing this for the right reasons,” she said, hoping to convince herself as much as Eli. “I have to be doing it for the right reasons.”

“Ye got that right. Ye need pure motives tae mimic shift. And yer going need tae mimic shift tae catch him, tae protect yer alter ego.”

“Sylvia said the same thing, but if I can track him by his aura, why should I shift?”

“If he keeps doing evil, the auras o’ his basic nature are going to disguise the ring’s aura. Eventually, the only aura yer going tae see will be that o’ his true nature. Unless ye can figure out what physical changes the shifts leave him with, which will be nigh unto impossible, ye will nae be able tae find him in his natural form. Even a Promised One canna mimic shift without the danger o’ retaining the characteristics o’ the mimic, unless the motives are verra pure.”

“Then how did Sylvia mimic me when she screwed Rhys? She didn’t retain any of my features, and her lascivious remarks about having him certainly didn’t seem pure.” The words popped out before she could stop them.

“She’s had yer man?” Shock flooded the old man’s face. “And ye still want him?”

“Rhys doesn’t know it was Sylvia. What happened with them made him think we were soul mates.”

“What did happen?”

Alexi got off the sofa and crossed the room, her back to Eli. “This is too embarrassing to talk about. It’s one thing to give you access to my shifter information, but you don’t need to know about my intimate relationships. I’ve kicked Rhys out. Did what you asked. Only God knows why, but I did. I think that’s all you need to know about it.”

“If the she-witch is involved, I need tae know everything. She’ll use anything she has agin ye, and if she’s had him, she’s knows how tae get tae ye.”

She faced Eli, hands braced on her hips. “I draw the line here. You leave my personal relationship with Rhys out of this or I swear I’ll blow the whole destiny thing to kingdom come, throw the dammed ring at Sylvia, and take him back, even if we spend the rest our lives popping into each other’s skins.” She wished the last sentence back as soon as she’d spoken it. Why couldn’t she keep her mouth shut? Was she going to spill her guts every time Eli questioned her?

Eli crossed the room with the speed of a cheetah and grasped her by the shoulders. “Ye exchanged bodies with him?” His voice crackled with excitement.

She shrugged out of his grasp. “I was referring to intercourse,” she said perversely. “You do know what it is, don’t you?”

He gave her a stare that pinned her feet to the floor. “Don’t be toying with me, lassie. I’ll nae have it. You will answer me. And dinna lie this time.”

His fury was so great his aura leapt into Alexi’s vision unbidden. The gold deepened, losing its pure sheen and the red spiked and flared, writhing like snakes. Anger rolled off him, so hot it seared her like fingers of hell fire.

What’s the use? He knows if I’m lying.
“Yes,” she said with a defeated sigh. “And it freaked the heck out of me.”

Eli paced the living room, his cane tapping out an urgent rhythm on the hardwood floor with every step. “This changes everything.” He stopped abruptly and faced her. “You have tae get him back.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Alexi snorted in disgust.

“Nay. I’m serious. ‘Tis a matter o’ grave importance tae keep the man next tae ye.”

She threw her hands up. “First you want me to get rid of him. Now you want me to get him back. What else do you want from me? My firstborn?”

“Aye, if it belongs tae Rhys, too.”

“What are you talking about, old man?” She stared him, dumbfounded.

He motioned to the easy chair behind her. “Sit down, lassie. I think what I’m going tae tell ye will be a shock.” She chose to stand. Eli waved his cane at her. “Suit yerself. That body popping thing ye mentioned means Rhys is a Promised One.”

“He’s not a shifter,” she croaked, when she found her voice. “He doesn’t have a ring.”

“He was using the power from yer ring. Only a true Promised One can do that. Did it happen every time?”

“Only once for me . . . last night. I kept the ring on, like you told me to. I always take it off at night. The metal leaves marks on my face when I sleep on my hands, which I do a lot.” Sheesh, she was babbling like a brook. Must be the shock of Eli’s revelation
.
“Rhys thought it meant we were soul mates . . . not the metal marks on my face . . . but because of what Sylvia . . .” A horrible thought crossed her mind. “How many shifters know about this body shifting thing?”

“Only the highest level Council Members.”