Zodiac Shifters Aries Love's Warrior Read online

  Just like a bad dream, she wanted to wake up. Randy’s violent and senseless death deserved more than a cliché ending.

  Across the room, the phone cord lay severed on the carpet. The murderer made sure no outgoing calls would be coming from here. Jessica had to get up. Go outside and find help.

  Just a short time ago she’d been desperate to be alone here. Now it was the last thing she wanted. In two days, she’d lost the same number of friends to violent death. What kind of sinister forces were at work on the paranormals at the Station? Was it just coincidence they’d been close to her?

  Pushing up against the wall, Jessica forced herself to move away from Randy. It didn’t feel right to leave him here alone but she had no other way to get help.

  She exited the trailer. The sharp wind made her tear up and then there was no stopping her tears. They flowed down her cheeks as she staggered along the trail to the Hub. The Station was laid out like a wheel. The Hub was the original timber building at the center housing the dining hall, kitchen and infirmary. The trailers were like the spokes radiating out from the Hub. Even more mobile units made a perimeter ring and these were mostly laboratory trailer spaces.

  Her tears didn’t freeze on her cheeks but her eyelashes stuck together. She wiped at them, glimpsing the Hub in the distance. It was a beacon. Only a bit farther to go.

  Until yesterday, the Station’s two shifter security guards had one main job---keeping the ice bears away from camp. Now she hoped more than anything one of them was nursing a cup of coffee in the twenty-four-hour mess hall.

  She opened the Hub outer doors, drawn like a moth to the light.

  Beyond the foyer stacked with parkas, boots and other cold weather gear, the mess hall was packed with paranorms. Everyone from the Station was here on Friday night.

  Dr. Deegan stood at the front of the timber-framed mess hall. She cranked a metal sphere and then stopped to remove a small white ball. “L -13.”

  Everyone in the room bent their heads over their bingo boards. They held ink blotters over paper score cards.

  “L-13.” Dr. Deegan peered over her bifocals at her. She pulled her severe black brows down into a frown. “Jessica, you’ll have to wait until we start a new round.” Nobody disturbed bingo night. “Is that blood?”

  She’d renounced violence of any sort. She’d turned her back on her training and tradition. She’d paid a heavy price for that decision.

  Dozens of heads turned to her.

  At the scent of fresh blood, several vamps leapt across their tables, heading straight to her. Only the very powerful vamps could curb their instinct for fresh blood. Like flies to honey, the vamps driven by instinct would kill Jessica unless she defended herself.

  The two shifters met them midair, bodies smacking in a tackle that shook the rafters. The adversaries crashed to the floor. Everything seemed to slow. She swore she even saw the particles of dust hover in the air. Shifters and vamps battled on the broken tables. Witches and warlocks scattered out of the way. Luanne, a shy fox shifter, grabbed two pieces of broken table. She stood at the edge of the fighting ring, ready to hand off the stake to the security detail. Or maybe she would deliver the fatal blow herself. The fox shifter tracked their movements intently.

  Suddenly, Wallace the vamp broke free of the shifter. A short middle-aged man with a fondness for hockey jerseys lunged at Jessica. Only a force from behind knocking her to the ground saved her from the vamp’s bared teeth. Her head made contact with the mess hall floor, and it was lights out.

  2

  The first time Carson Slade met his future wife, she had a pistol against her temple.

  It was March in Fairbanks, meaning everyone was bat shit crazy. His paranormal marshal’s office was already flooded with protection duties and hunting fugitives.

  “There’s a hostage situation over at the university.” Sonny, his dispatcher’s dark head craned into his office.

  “That’s the sheriff’s department,” Carson replied, wondering why he even bothered having an office door. Everyone was popping in and out every two minutes.

  “Sheriff’s office says no. There’s witches involved.”

  “Guess they remember the Newt Incident.” Carson leaned back in his desk chair, staring at the water stain on the ceiling above him. “Ask if can she turn the hostage into a toad. It’d save us all a whole lot of paperwork.”

  “Apparently she’s not that kind of witch, sir.” Sonny pursed her lips. She tracked to the sandwich on his desk.

  These days Sonny was always hungry. Being pregnant with ice bear twins would do that to a body. Carson dreaded her maternity leave—this place would fall into chaos without her organizational skills.

  “What the hell kind of witch is she?” Carson was already shrugging into his barn jacket. Even though it was winter in Fairbanks, he didn’t need anything warmer. His ice bear blood ran him a good deal warmer than most other paranormals.

  “According to her boss, she’s a good witch.” Sonny’s gaze lingered on his sandwich. She’d been burying her empty potato chip bags in the office trash. The office was almost entirely shifters but everyone pretended they didn’t smell a thing.

  “I hope this ‘Glenda’ is worth the all the trouble.” Carson slammed his cowboy hat on before handing his unwrapped sandwich to Sonny.

  “You remember I told you she’s a witch, right?” His office assistant patted her enormous belly, wincing. “Thanks. Hey, be careful out there, marshal. I got a bad feeling about this one.”

  In retrospect, Carson wished he’d paid more attention to Sonny’s premonition. He’s arrived at the University of Fairbanks, Alaska biology lab to discover the hostage taker was a warlock. Glen was a disgruntled former lab employee with the irritating habit of making air quotes with his fingers when he talked, which unfortunately was a lot.

  Carson met Glen and his hostage in a windowless conference room in the evacuated biology building that ruled out snipers.

  Damn. Glen wasn’t a dummy.

  The hostage was Jessica Tindal . She wore a UAF sweatshirt with her dark hair pulled back in a ponytail. She had a pretty face with great tits. The latter was obvious even in a sweatshirt. She was sitting down when he entered the room but Carson guessed the table hid a curvy ass in some faded jeans and running shoes.

  She raised her head to meet his eyes across the laminate conference table under the florescent lights. She had brown eyes with little flecks of gold. Recognition slammed through him. He had a full head of silver hair. He had to be twenty years older than her. It’d taken him a while but he found his fated mate. In a moment of appalling unprofessionalism, Carson wondered what kind of panties clung to her silky flesh.

  As the day wore on the temperature increased in the conference room. Unfortunately, Glenn was insane. Carson insisted the air conditioning be cut when he first arrived and Fairbanks was having its usual freak heat wave. No sense is making things comfortable for the guy.

  Across the table from Jessica and Glenn, Carson felt like this was the longest negotiation of his life.

  “How about we let the girl go? She’s not feeling well. It’s boiling in here,” Carson suggested.

  “She’s fine.” Glenn waved his gun around then glanced at Jessica. “Hey, take off that sweatshirt. Let’s take a look at those jugs of yours.”

  Jessica started to slowly move her hands to pull up her sweatshirt.

  Fuck no.

  It wasn’t that Carson didn’t want a peek. He did. He just didn’t want it like this with Glenn ogling her.

  Jessica slumped. Her forearms cushioned her face. Probably from the heat and the stress.

  Glenn was so going to pay for this.

  Carson jumped to his feet.

  “Stay where you are!” Glenn shouted. “Hey, Jessica. You ok? Come on, baby. Wake up.” He set the gun down on the table then he leaned over and shook her shoulder.

  Jessica snapped her head back, hitting Glen squarely in the nose. Simultaneously she shot her left
arm out, knocking the gun off the table.

  “Shit! You broke my nose!” he blubbered. Blood poured from his face.

  Carson leapt on the table and ran down the length of it toward them. Jessica spun around, hitting her captor with the heel of her hand. Glen was airborne before hitting the conference room wall and dropping to the floor.

  Without a doubt, it was the sexiest thing Carson had ever seen in his life.

  By the time he reached them, she was standing over her captor, watching him bleed.

  “You all right?” Carson realized she only came up to his shoulder yet she’d played this warlock like a she was a professional. He didn’t feel bad for this amateur threatening her with a firearm but he was mighty impressed by this woman.

  Jessica rubbed the back of her head. “I can’t stand the word ‘jugs.’”

  Making a mental note of that, Carson Slade glanced at the man sniveling before them. Then for the first time in his forty-seven years, Carson uttered a phrase he’d never spoken before. “Will you marry me?”

  Eighteen months later, Carson breathed into his headset on the biplane hurling toward the Icy Cap Biology Station. The biplane was so noisy that the pilot issued the passengers headsets both to protect their ears from the engine noises and to allow them to communicate.

  “This isn’t right.” Carson gripped the armrests.

  “Besides how much you hate to fly?” Mariko remarked dryly. His vamp colleague seated next to him was dressed in layers of expensive black sportswear. She could’ve been a model for a recreational company except her pallor gave her away. “Face it, ice bears aren’t good travelers.” Only her eyes were uncovered. A pity because he observed them narrow at him in disgust. Vamps had a surplus of arrogance. And yes, he was aware that was coming from an ice bear shifter flying into a double homicide investigation involving his wife.

  The propeller plane’s loud engines made talking difficult. The blizzard batted the plane around like a butterfly. They needed to get to Icy Cap as soon as possible. Carson really hated flying.

  It wasn’t true that ice bears were poor travelers. He’d have no problem reaching Icy Cap quite comfortably in his ice bear form if he was not pressed for time.

  As it was, he didn’t like the idea of Mariko arriving first and beginning the investigation without him.

  What was he so afraid of?

  He knew the answer well enough, but didn’t want to dwell on it. He unscrewed his thermos before taking a sip of whiskey.

  The plane hit another patch of rough air. The whiskey splashed out. He moved his leg, missing the drench. The entire aircraft rattled as if it was going to fly apart at the seams.

  Next to him, Mariko’s eyes were closed. She appeared serene, not an easy trick for a vamp. They were cold-blooded bastards, for sure, but they did make excellent marshals.

  “Hold on back there.” The pilot spoke over into his microphone. “We’re starting our descent. It’ll get a bit bumpy.”

  Get bumpy?!

  He had plenty to say to Jessica. He’d had months to brood about it.

  Carson gazed out the window. Everything was dark below. Only the plane’s lights illuminated the snow around them. How could the pilot land under such conditions?

  He took another long draw off his whiskey.

  “You’re going to be ok with this?” Mariko asked without opening her eyes. Her head still rested on the seat back.

  “I’m fine.” He growled.

  The plane shuddered sideways.

  “It’s not just any investigation.”

  “No one investigation is more important than any other.”

  Mariko glanced at him sidelong. “Really? When was the last time you investigated a case with your ex-wife as the chief suspect?”

  Who was he kidding? He was seriously fucked.

  3

  Jessica regained consciousness on a cot in the infirmary. She opened her eyes to find Dr. Deegan studying her from behind her desk across the room.

  The physician removed her bifocals. “Tea’s ready.”

  Jessica blinked. Her face was tight from her dried tears. Her head ached. Her entire body felt battered. She struggled to remember what was reality and what was surely a bad dream. “What happened?”

  “You’ve got a mild concussion. My fault—the vamp was in striking distance and you had a deer in the headlights thing going on. The body count is growing enough around here.”

  “Wallace?” She remembered him eyeing one of her frozen yogurts just the other day in the cafeteria. He’d stopped by her table to confess how he really missed the chilled dessert from his pre-vamp days.

  “Wallace is no longer un-dead. He’s just plain old dead. Luanne staked him. Apparently, she was some regional javelin track star in high school. Lucky that.”

  Dr. Deegan handed her a mug. “Careful—it’s hot.”

  Jessica sat up slowly but still the world rotated. Nausea rolled through her stomach. She closed her eyes, willing the sensation to pass.

  She sat on the edge of the narrow cot with an infirmary blanket around her shoulders. She cradled the mug, soaking up its latent warmth. Her parka had been removed. Randy’s dried blood stained her sweatshirt, leggings and hands.

  Randy.

  She touched her shirt. It was hard to believe he was really gone. She wanted to crawl away somewhere dark and pretend none of this ever happened.

  “Have a sip of tea,” Deegan urged.

  Jessica stared down at the beverage. Bits of stem and leaves clotted at the rim. It was such a mundane action, drinking tea. She’d done so many times but this was the second time in two days that Deegan was treating her for shock with the beverage. Even as an herbal healer, Jessica was beginning to dislike tea thanks to the association. She should be grateful to be alive, but instead Jessica felt angry.

  “Drink. You’ll feel better.” Dr. Deegan clucked her tongue softly like a mother hen. The physician gave her the creeps. Not surprising since the Doc came from California. You just couldn’t trust people whose water bottles were bigger than their dogs.

  Witches fell into two groups, the ones from the rest of the world and the California ones. Deegan had all the hallmarks of a California witch; she was condescending and bossy. It was common for witches to remain within their own home territory for their whole life. Covens were suspicious and mistrustful of any witch not their own. A coven relocating didn’t generate suspicion like a single witch moving to town.

  Was that why Jessica was uneasy around Deegan?

  She hated to think she was as narrow minded as her owns sisters. After all, they’d cost her her marriage. She’d relinquished her Amazon warrior identity to marry Carson. She hoped to appease her family so they’d leave her alone with her husband. No such luck. Apparently one doesn’t leave Aries’ family any easier than one quits the mob.

  In the end, she’d lost her husband and her family.

  Jessica shook her head. She wanted to clear her thoughts. Jessica felt exhausted yet wide awake. She doubted she’d ever be able to close her eyes. Such horror. One minute poor Randy was alive and the next— Her mind played it on a macabre loop she couldn’t un-see. It was like a nightmare that wouldn’t end.

  Male voices outside the infirmary caught her attention.

  “She was covered with his blood.”

  “For the second time in two days.”

  “All alone with the victim.”

  “Wonder where she hid the weapon?”

  Warlocks were the biggest gossips. They couldn’t actually think she was involved in Randy’s death? You didn’t kill someone for ogling your tits in the gym. If that was the case, the numbers left at the Station would be very small indeed.

  “What’s in the tea? There’s something I can’t identify.” Jessica took a small sip and then set the mug aside.

  “My own serenity brew.”

  “It’s unusual. Tangy.”

  “You’re over tired. Stress can do that, make even normal things seem odd.”<
br />
  “Thanks.” Jessica handed the mug back to Deegan.

  The gossip bothered Jessica. It was what she worried about. In the back of her mind being Aries’ daughter was a liability. She was covered in blood at the scene of two murders. All evidence pointed to her even though she didn’t do it. How was she going to convince them to look for the real culprit?

  With the second murder in as many days, investigators would surely be on their way.

  “I’d like to go back to my room.” Jessica stood slowly. She still felt a bit wobbly. That was some blow to the head.

  “I’ll walk you back to your trailer.” Deegan helped her into a clean parka.

  Each scientist was issued a parka upon arrival. Since everyone had the same outer clothing, names were embroidered on the front chest pocket. In the real world, witches and warlocks charmed their clothing to prevent items going astray. But with no magic allowed here, they settled on more practical methods.

  Jessica traced the embroidery of her new parka with her finger. It read “Teague.” Her former roommate left it behind when she wandered out to die in the cold. Now it was hers since her own coat was covered in Randy’s blood.

  She had the passing thought that she’d like to get her own coat cleaned. It was silly and vain but she was planning to wear it back in Fairbanks after she earned her National Paranormal Science Foundation Expedition patch on the sleeve. Gah. Must be the concussion. How could she think of something so trivial when Teague and Randy were dead?

  Stepping beyond the infirmary, the clique of warlocks fell silent when she appeared. They stared as she and Deegan walked by. They probably didn’t recognize her because it was the first time they’d looked at her above the tits.

  The rest of the Hub was the same. Small clumps of paranormals whispered out in the lobby. Cleanup crews were working on the mess hall. Jessica welcomed the frigid air when they left the Hub.

  Snow fell steadily with the wind gusting. Now it sounded like a howl unless that was a wolf. Either way she shivered in her warm coat. The coldness was deep in her bones. She feared it would never go away. She and Deegan needed the rope guides to reach her trailer.