“Gabe, what’s with the test results for series B? Oh, and I got another complaint from finance saying our supplies and the bills they have don’t add up, I need you to call them,” I told my assistant.
“On it,” he replied.
Fucking bureaucracy. I hated it. I had no time for it. I was a scientist, not an accountant. I looked down at the latest batch of testing of the antidote I developed to counter that garbage GHA was pushing into Shifter’s veins. As far as I understood it, their injection was freezing a Shifter into one shape or other, depending on what skin they wore. It accomplished this by eating away at the DNA sequence mutation that allowed for the change.
My antidote was countering it by creating a shield around that sequence mutation. But using the blood of the latest victim, a poor young Hyena who’d been taken from a local club and released back into the zoo in her animal state, my antidote was currently failing. It was like they knew exactly what I was trying to do and countered it accordingly.
“This makes no sense. It’s like they know exactly what I am doing and designing their formula to specifically combat what I am doing!”
“What do you mean?” Gabe asked.
“It’s like these assholes had a blueprint for my antidote and were already working on ways to counter it before I even finished thinking about it. How can that be?” I muttered.
“Who knows? The GHA is completely insane. Anyway, let’s talk about you going into the field with Ashman, er, I mean, Agent Donnelly?” Gabe asked with his mouth hanging open.
“That’s what they tell me,” I muttered, allowing my displeasure to be known.
“Ohmygawd!” Gabe screeched.
“Volume,” I said, covering my ears and glaring at him.
He made a face like he was a real housewife of NJ instead of the nerdy research scientists who still lived in his Mom’s basement and did a little wiggle while chanting that stupid nickname he gave Donnelly.
“Ashman. Ashman. Ashman.”
“Ugh, Gabe, come on,” I moaned, shaking my head.
Not that it mattered to me where Gabe lived, but I couldn’t help but shake my head. The guy was seriously crushing on almost every single one of the DPCA agents we came into contact with, which admittedly, since most of them were Shifters, they were hot. There was just something in the genes. That superior physique that made them attractive even if only on a primal level.
“You’re so lucky! I mean, the guy is always warning people away from y—um, nothing. I wanna know how this happened.”
“What? No, what were you saying first?”
“Nothing. Never mind. Just, okay, just tell me everything,” Gabe demanded.
What a weirdo. I rolled my eyes and shrugged, telling Gabe everything that had happened earlier that day while I packed my things and cleaned my workspace. I’d never worked in the field, and I was a little nervous, especially since no one told me exactly what I’d be doing.
After this afternoon’s surprise visit, I was called into Mother’s office. Mother was a code name, of course, for one of the directors of the local DPCA office. There were any number of them, but red tape and security levels varying meant you never knew for sure exactly who did what.
The man was powerful, even her magic sensed something not quite average about him. He was just under six feet tall, stocky, but she doubted it was fat. Not all Shifters were muscular as Donnelly, but the half-Chinese half-African American male was intimidating without all the extra definition.
“Dr. Harbor, thank you for coming. We’re experiencing a shortage of female operatives and we’re this close to catching the assholes behind the Global Human Alliance, also known as the GHA, who’ve been kidnapping and experimenting on Shifters,” Mother said, leaving no room for inquiry.
“I understand Agent Donnelly already requested your aid for his current assignment. While we would not typically send a scientist such as yourself out into the field, I believe having you on hand will benefit both Agent Donnelly and any victims of the GHA you might come into contact with. I understand you’ve made some headway in creating an antidote for the anti-Shifter drug GHA has been working on?”
“Um, yes, sir. I’ve found a way to halt the drug’s progress in shutting down the DNA sequence that allows for Shifters to swap bodies. The GHA drug is designed to make shifting impossible from one form to another. They haven’t been able to make the change permanent yet, but they are close, sir.”
“Outrageous,” Mother growled in an impossibly deep voice.
“Agreed, sir.”
“And that is why you and Agent Donnelly will stop them.”
“Can you believe he wouldn’t even let me speak? I mean, I don’t even want this assignment!”
“Oh puhleeze,” Gabe replied, rolling his eyes. “Everyone wants to work with Ashman.”
“Not me,” I said, shaking my head and grabbing my jacket.
It was officially Spring, but New Jersey hadn’t caught up to the calendar yet and I wasn’t going to freeze my ass off just because. Shrugging into my fluffy NorthFace, I waved goodbye to Gabe, ignoring his pleas for me to send him pics of my outfit choice for tonight.
Driving back to the home where I grew up and now lived once again with my brother Davian and his mate, Erryn, my sisters, Sybil and Martina, and Martina’s new mate Mitchell, was a lot nicer than it sounded.
I’d been back in Maccon City for three years, but having all of us under one roof again was recent. With Martina’s return from New York City and her subsequent mating to a Werewolf/Hellhound who handled her Witch side just perfectly, plus the fact we’d officially announced to all and sundry that we were the Witch Shifter Clan now, our own supernatural organization, I had to admit I was still finding my feet.
“Your back!” Sybil announced as if everyone hadn’t heard my car pull into the driveway.
Construction had ceased for the day. Thank goodness. I mean, I loved the new plans for Harbor House, but it was a lot. A lot of noise, a lot of people in and out, and a lot of mess. Still, I was shocked at how much progress Mitch had made with the additions we were putting in on the house and grounds. The Witch Shifter Clan was official, and returning home to them, to my family and my Clan every day did something wonderful inside of me. It helped soothe the anxiety I felt in both my magic and my Fox after being cooped up in the lab all day.
I mean, I loved my work, but the stress was real. After my meeting with Mother, I went back over all my recent discoveries on the drug DPCA agents had found in the bloodstream of Shifters’ bodies they’d recovered from various places strewn across the country like so much trash. Indignation and fury filled me at the Global Human Alliance. That entire organization was based on pure hatred.
What a stupid fucking name! Supes might not be only human, but some of us were partially human. So what if we were different? Scientific evidence proved supernaturals existed as long as, if not longer than homo sapiens, walking the Earth for hundreds of thousands of years. If humans, or normals as we called them, had even the smallest inkling of what was really out there, of the multiverse and the many creatures that existed beyond what their tiny brains could comprehend, I imagined their whole world would simply implode.
The Global Human Alliance was just one of many heinous groups whose existence was a foul stain on humanity. How they knew about supernaturals I had no idea. But the DPCA had been closing in on their hunting grounds. I understood from Mother that one of their recruiters, the slimeballs responsible for targeting individuals, had been recently caught.
In a terrible twist of events, the man was the father of one of the DPCA’s longtime handlers, Jennifer Dylluan. I didn’t know her well, but I’d worked with her a time or two, providing the support of the research lab where applicable. The biggest impediment I saw in this case wasn’t in identifying and neutralizing the chemical agents these bastards were using to suppress or freeze Shifters in one state or other.
That was the kind of thing I could figure out in my sleep. It wasn’t conceit, it just was. I had a big fucking brain, and I knew how to use it. But my anger, the simmering rage at what these fuckers were doing, now that was going to be a challenge. This was more personal than Mother knew. Closer to home than anyone knew.
Unlike Martina and Sybil, I wasn’t an infant when Anne Harbor rescued me. I was older, and being precocious even as a preschooler, I had vivid memories of my life before I came to Harbor House. Secret memories that I swore to take to my grave. But this case, this fucking case, was bringing them all back to the surface. Magic pulsed beneath my fingertips and my inner Fox growled deep and low.
“Earth to Nova!” Sybil snapped her fingers in my face, and I was ripped from my unpleasant past and thrust back into the present.
“Hey,” I said noncommittally. “Sorry, I was thinking.”
“Yeah, no shit,” she said and laughed. “Did you see Martina’s email?”
“What email?”
“She’s so fucking cute, taking her position as Alpha of our Clan into the 21st century by creating a newsletter,” Sybil said, tearing up a little and I rolled my eyes.
She was always so emotional. Dutifully, I took out my phone and scrolled to the email from our sister. I bit my lip to stop grinning as I read the very detailed and organized missive. Martina was a lawyer, so it kind of went with the job, but I couldn’t deny the note of pride that swelled inside of me. It was official. She’d registered the Witch Shifter Clan with the Shifter Council, giving us both protection and status among supes.
With the permission of Rafe Maccon, the Alpha of the Macconwood Pack, we were allowed to take root in Maccon City, so long as we respected Pack boundaries, which, of course, we would. Only complete morons would pick a fight with the biggest Wolf Pack in the world over something as dumb as territory.
We already owned our plot of land. It was left to us by Mama Anne. She’d built Harbor House for supernatural runaways and delinquents, the outcasts, the unwanted, and the trafficked. That last bit caught in my throat. I’d been rescued from a group that hunted Shifters for sport. The similarities of what that now defunct organization had tried to do was too close to the Global Human Alliance for me not to be affected.
The Shifter Child Abduction Ring, or SCAR as it had been known, was once the greatest danger known to Shifterkind. They’d planned the eradication of Shifters from the face of the planet by perverting our DNA with one result in mind, infertility. The GHA wanted to steal our animals from us, and SCAR wanted to make sure we could not pass on our Shifter genes. Both groups were monsters. Both deserved to be wiped off the planet.
Bloodthirsty? Maybe. But after what they did to me, I couldn’t really be blamed, could I? Tears pricked my eyes as I thought of the very real consequences of my kidnapping. I could never have children. That was my deepest regret, my darkest secret, and another reason I would never, ever take a mate.
“So, are you coming to the meeting?” Sybil asked, catching my attention once more.
“Meeting?”
“Yeah, our first official Witch Shifter Clan meeting! It’s tomorrow night,” she said, following me to our old bedroom.
We were sharing it until construction was complete. Thank fuck for Mitchell. Martina had really lucked out with him. Adding several smaller buildings, including a dormitory, indoor gym, and outdoor recreational center was going to do wonders for this place. I was also looking forward to having my own space again. Not that I didn’t like being home, but between Davian and Erryn constantly kissing and touching, Sybil’s nonstop chatter, and Martina and Mitchell pawing at one another, I was getting a little claustrophobic.
“Yeah, tomorrow should be fine. I think. Actually, I don’t know,” I mumbled.
“What do you mean, you don’t know?” Sybil asked.
Just then, my phone buzzed, and I grabbed it, frowning when I read the message. Shit. It was from Asher. He was going to be there in twenty minutes to get me, and I hadn’t even showered.
“I’m going to be doing some work in the field, um, undercover actually,” I said, looking through the closet for something to wear.
“In the field? Holy fuck, Nova! But you’re a nerd, not an agent,” Sybil pointed out unhelpfully.
“Thanks, dufus,” I growled, rolling my eyes. “I won’t be alone. It’s important.”
“Who’s going with you? Ohmygawd, please say it’s that hot Lion Shifter you won’t admit you like,” she said, eyes bright with mischief.
“I don’t like him!”
“Yes, you dooooo,” she replied in her annoying singsong voice. “Now, spill!”
So, I did, bringing her, and then Martina who crashed into our room a few minutes later, up to speed. I blew out a gush of air and turned to face them in my bar appropriate outfit.
“Well?” I asked, and both my sisters just gaped at me. “What?”
“Are you going undercover as a sex worker?” Sybil asked, eyes wide.
I looked down at my pleather miniskirt and thigh high boots paired with a silver halter top and sighed. Fuck. She had a point.
“Shit. What do I do?”
“Okay, let’s fix this before you get arrested for indecent exposure,” Sybil muttered, shaking her head.
“Come on,” I growled. “It’s not that bad.”
“Not bad? Honey, I can see your hoo ha from here. We want Agent Donnelly to swoon, not have a heart attack,” she said.
“I do not want him to swoon!” I lied.
Fine. Maybe I did want the man to swoon over me. Just a little. Fuck.
“Enough, you two. Okay, Nova, keep the top on, they make the girls look great,” she said, wagging her eyebrows and nodding at my boobs.
I did have pretty great boobs if I said so myself. I was human enough to have my own insecurities and while I was more accustomed to nudity than the average female because, hello Shifter, that did not mean I was completely comfortable in my own skin. But yeah, I liked my boobs. They were a regular c-cup, perky enough to forego bras when I had to with certain outfits, such as this one.
“Take those boots and that skirt off and put these on,” Martina said, coming to the rescue.
I grabbed the high-waisted, wide-leg pants from Martina and shrugged them on, sliding my size nine feet into the silver wedge heels she tossed on the floor. It certainly wasn’t my go to, but the second I put them on I felt deliciously feminine and pretty. The pants were made out of some sort of soft shimmery fabric that was almost see-through from right below my panty line, but only if you pulled the fabric apart or stared really hard. When I walked,
it gave tantalizing glimpses of what I looked like beneath the fabric, but it still managed to be modest.
“Holy shit,” Sybil said, and I had to agree with her.
Holy shit, indeed.