it. I can, but don’t ask me how. End of discussion.”
Like it was no big deal. Maybe not to her. To a Shifter who had to work very closely with her, it was a bit worrisome. “Are there others who can do that?”
“I have no idea,” she said. “It’s not like there’s a club for freaks like me.”
“Can you force a Shifter from human form back to Shifter form?”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “I haven’t found a Shifter willing to let me try. Are you volunteering?”
“I’ll pass. Dillinger didn’t look too comfortable.”
“He got what he deserved,” she said, and she meant it.
“Do we all deserve that?” he asked.
Seneca hesitated a moment, just long enough for him to realize that she had to actually think about it.
“No. You don’t,” she said. “Unless, of course, you tell anyone what I can do.”
Ah, so that was it. “Riley knew this.”
“Yes, he did. Deal with it.” Then she slapped her palms together. “Well, that was fun. I think I’ll go somewhere to be alone now.”
Dempsey snagged her by the arm just as she turned to leave. He could see the anger and determination in her eyes, but he didn’t care.
“You aren’t a freak. And neither am I,” he said softly. “We are what we are.”
“You had a whole world of people like you,” she whispered back, her voice breaking. “There’s no one here like me.”
Her eyes were starting to water, her hands clenched into fists. He understood exactly how she felt. “I know. I’m sorry.”
It was all he could think of to say. For a few moments, they didn’t move. Then he released Seneca and stepped back.
“We need to get back to the van,” she said and started walking away. “By the way. Good job tonight.”
Max smiled in the dark.
Hager took a sip of the twenty-year-old cabernet sauvignon he was sharing with the man he’d recently put into the Skinman role for Shifters in New York City. The former Skinman had become lazy and uncooperative, and Hager decided that replacing him was necessary in order to move his plan along. George, the new Skinman, was a Shifter who Hager had worked with on Govan, and a business man first and foremost. His motives were clear—money. Hager liked that. It made it easy to manipulate him.
Hager said to him, “You can understand my concern. I need to be sure you can supply me with enough virgin DNA. I don’t want duplicates. I don’t want anything artificially altered. I want pure, unadulterated DNA.”
Skinman grimaced as he tried the wine again. Hager knew he didn’t like it, didn’t understand the point of a fine wine, the symbolism of an alien savoring the fruits of human labor. Pity. Opportunities were meant to be taken.
“No problem,” he said. “I got enough for you and your boys. You just keep the protection and the money coming.”
“Of course,” Hager said and set his glass down on the granite table that stretched between them. Dim light from the overhead bulbs caught the cut- crystal wineglass and reflected tiny prisms across the cool cellar. Dusty bottles stacked in careful order lined the walls. The floors of the old cellar wore the passage of time.
Hager loved old things. The things that no one else seemed to want. Shifters didn’t often live long enough to watch their possessions get old. He planned to.
“Can’t do a damn thing without money on this crappy planet,” Skinman grumbled. He pointed a boney finger at Hager. “You don’t have money on this world, you got nothing. No life, no women, no respect.”
Hager picked up his glass and swirled the wine, watching it dance red and maroon in the light. “There are more important things in life than sex and respect. You should have learned that by now.”
Skinman gave a grunt. “These worlds, they’re all the same. All uptight and totally screwed up. They’re just too stupid to know it.”
Stupid, yes, but this country was tenacious in relinquishing its civility. Govan had been simpler, its
Like it was no big deal. Maybe not to her. To a Shifter who had to work very closely with her, it was a bit worrisome. “Are there others who can do that?”
“I have no idea,” she said. “It’s not like there’s a club for freaks like me.”
“Can you force a Shifter from human form back to Shifter form?”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “I haven’t found a Shifter willing to let me try. Are you volunteering?”
“I’ll pass. Dillinger didn’t look too comfortable.”
“He got what he deserved,” she said, and she meant it.
“Do we all deserve that?” he asked.
Seneca hesitated a moment, just long enough for him to realize that she had to actually think about it.
“No. You don’t,” she said. “Unless, of course, you tell anyone what I can do.”
Ah, so that was it. “Riley knew this.”
“Yes, he did. Deal with it.” Then she slapped her palms together. “Well, that was fun. I think I’ll go somewhere to be alone now.”
Dempsey snagged her by the arm just as she turned to leave. He could see the anger and determination in her eyes, but he didn’t care.
“You aren’t a freak. And neither am I,” he said softly. “We are what we are.”
“You had a whole world of people like you,” she whispered back, her voice breaking. “There’s no one here like me.”
Her eyes were starting to water, her hands clenched into fists. He understood exactly how she felt. “I know. I’m sorry.”
It was all he could think of to say. For a few moments, they didn’t move. Then he released Seneca and stepped back.
“We need to get back to the van,” she said and started walking away. “By the way. Good job tonight.”
Max smiled in the dark.
Hager took a sip of the twenty-year-old cabernet sauvignon he was sharing with the man he’d recently put into the Skinman role for Shifters in New York City. The former Skinman had become lazy and uncooperative, and Hager decided that replacing him was necessary in order to move his plan along. George, the new Skinman, was a Shifter who Hager had worked with on Govan, and a business man first and foremost. His motives were clear—money. Hager liked that. It made it easy to manipulate him.
Hager said to him, “You can understand my concern. I need to be sure you can supply me with enough virgin DNA. I don’t want duplicates. I don’t want anything artificially altered. I want pure, unadulterated DNA.”
Skinman grimaced as he tried the wine again. Hager knew he didn’t like it, didn’t understand the point of a fine wine, the symbolism of an alien savoring the fruits of human labor. Pity. Opportunities were meant to be taken.
“No problem,” he said. “I got enough for you and your boys. You just keep the protection and the money coming.”
“Of course,” Hager said and set his glass down on the granite table that stretched between them. Dim light from the overhead bulbs caught the cut- crystal wineglass and reflected tiny prisms across the cool cellar. Dusty bottles stacked in careful order lined the walls. The floors of the old cellar wore the passage of time.
Hager loved old things. The things that no one else seemed to want. Shifters didn’t often live long enough to watch their possessions get old. He planned to.
“Can’t do a damn thing without money on this crappy planet,” Skinman grumbled. He pointed a boney finger at Hager. “You don’t have money on this world, you got nothing. No life, no women, no respect.”
Hager picked up his glass and swirled the wine, watching it dance red and maroon in the light. “There are more important things in life than sex and respect. You should have learned that by now.”
Skinman gave a grunt. “These worlds, they’re all the same. All uptight and totally screwed up. They’re just too stupid to know it.”
Stupid, yes, but this country was tenacious in relinquishing its civility. Govan had been simpler, its
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