Chapter One
“So, who wants to talk and who wants to die?”
The voice coming from the alley behind TJ’s was cheerful, just a little too cheerful, considering the grim message in his words. It was a little scary, though, because that cheer was not false. Whoever he was, he was all too excited about the thought of making somebody talk, then bleed, then die.
In that order.
I could smell the blood in the air and it wasn’t shapeshifter blood. I knew that smell all too well, but that was just because I worked in a bar where blood was spilled. A lot. Shapeshifters liked to fight, after all, and those fights led to bloodshed. Lucky me, I got to clean it up.
Go inside . That was the voice of common sense.
I was done working. Nothing for me to do, really. I never did anything , other than work. Well, other than lock myself in my room and read. Or lock myself in the little gym TJ had let me set up and work out. I could do either one of those and pretend the rest of the world didn’t exist.
This one night, I’d felt an odd little pull, something that had tugged me out of the bar. Go back inside , I told myself.
Something sizzled in the air and I felt it dance across my skin.
Then there was a yell, followed by a grunt and a series of thuds.
It was getting really hard to pretend this wasn’t happening. If I went back inside and acted like I hadn’t noticed anything, I’d have a hard time facing myself in the morning.
My inability to mind my own business will be the death of me. Here lies Kit Colbana, killed by her own curiosity . That will be my epitaph. Still, I couldn’t stay there, shifting from one foot to the other while I listened to somebody getting the hell beaten out of them.
Keeping to the shadows, I moved down the maze of twisting, narrow little paths and paused when I reached the junction up ahead. It was there. Just ahead and to the right. The smell of blood was stronger and I could hear somebody laughing. It was the man I’d heard earlier—
“Oh, come on, you can do better than that…”
His voice sounded thick now. Not quite so eager to make something talk, then bleed, then die.
Of course, he was the one talking, in a voice that was thick and wet. He was bleeding, too. I could see that when I peered around the corner. There he was, caught between two wolves—shapeshifters—while a third drew back a hand and slammed it into his gut.
He crumpled around the fist.
“Who are you working for?” A new voice now, somebody big and mean. He drove another fist into the man’s gut as he spoke. I raked him with a look, sized him up. A werewolf.
The entire tableau was surreal. There were three weres, the one doing the pummeling, while the other two held a brown-haired man immobile.
“One more time, you little fuck.” The were smashed a giant fist into the man’s face and I winced as blood splattered out in an arcing spray. “Who are you working for?”
There was no answer, just a nasal sort of groan.
The werewolf in front of him fisted a hand in the man’s hair and jerked his head up, leaning in to snarl at the man. He looked…human. I didn’t feel that weird kind of energy I sensed around all shifters, which meant if this kept up, he’d be dead.
Nervous, I glanced behind me. Could I get back to the bar and Goliath?
I didn’t know.
Sliding a hand inside my vest, I touched one of the silver knives.
“Come on, witch. You aren’t down here asking about night just because you want to.” The wolf reached up, caught the man’s face, started to squeeze.
Horrified, I bit my lip to keep from making a sound. I couldn’t look away as I watched those fingers dig in. I knew how strong shifters were. They could crush bone, stone, metal.
The man groaned hoarsely.
Shit. I can’t watch this. I had to do something—had to help.
Abruptly, it was like the fight drained out of him.
“There. That’s what I thought.” The wolf backed up and now, all I could see was his
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