Authors: C.J. Barry
Body Thief (4 page)
On the other hand, Griffin’s ability to see Shifters was going to clear his reputation and his name. It wouldn’t bring his wife back though, clear up his finances, or fix the past that his bastard shapeshifter ex-partner John Parker wrecked when he’d taken over Griffin’s home and life. It wouldn’t give Griffin back the four months he’d spent in XCEL’s detention center as a prisoner, trying to clear himself of the murder Parker committed disguised as Griffin. But it would be something, and if he had to use Camille Solomon to get that, then he would.
A server motioned from the end of the bar, and Lyle headed down to handle the order, leaving Griffin alone with his scotch and his thoughts.
The accomplice was related to Camille somehow; he was sure of it now. Their Shifter shadows were very similar, and he suspected that meant relatives. Whoever the old man was, she’d laid down quickly. He meant a lot to her. That alone confirmed Griffin’s theory, because he couldn’t imagine anything else moving that woman when she didn’t want to be moved.
He flexed his fingers around the warm glass. And his Shifter grip had worked once again. He didn’t know how it worked, had never questioned why. Just one more curse to add to the list, but at least this one froze Shifters in their tracks. It would be enough to keep Camille in line. He hoped.
The TV over the bar was showing yet another demonstration on the local news station. There was no sound, but it didn’t take much to see that the protesters were anti-aliens. They were your average Americans, wearing sneakers, jeans, and baseball caps and shaking signs of big-eyed alien faces with red lines through them.
They’d come out of the woodwork after alien Shifters had been discovered in America—so-called refugees fleeing from another planet that didn’t want them there. Too bad Earth didn’t have the space technology to hurtle them back.
Griffin watched the protesters with tired amusement. They didn’t even
know
what Shifters actually looked like. They couldn’t see the shadows that hovered within their “borrowed” human bodies. Bodies that shapeshifters had stolen human DNA for and replicated. It was wrong. Everyone should have the right to be unique, not be clone fodder.
know
what Shifters actually looked like. They couldn’t see the shadows that hovered within their “borrowed” human bodies. Bodies that shapeshifters had stolen human DNA for and replicated. It was wrong. Everyone should have the right to be unique, not be clone fodder.
A patron came up and stood at the bar next to Griffin. He watched the TV for a few moments before saying, “Fucking aliens, here in America. Makes me sick.”
Griffin wondered if the guy knew that his waiter was one of them. “Yeah.”
The guy yelled to Lyle, “Gimme two Mic Lights.”
Then he leaned on the bar and watched the next footage of a pro-alien march. He said, “Unbelievable. Look at those bleeding hearts. I bet half of them are the aliens.”
Nope, just stupid humans that think aliens aren’t here to ruin them. “Right.”
Lyle set two beers on the counter and took the man’s money to make change. Lyle handed the guy his change and said, “Thanks.”
The guy nodded at Griffin and left.
Lyle grabbed a rag and wiped the bar. “People like him are just scared of what they don’t understand.”
“They’d be more scared if they knew the truth,” Griffin told him.
Lyle put his hands on the bar. “I never had any problem with Shifters. They’re hard workers, and most just want to stay to themselves. Live a normal life.”
Griffin shook his head. Spoken like a man who’d never been DNA fodder. “Our lives. They want to live
our lives
, Lyle. The ones we worked our asses off to build.”
our lives
, Lyle. The ones we worked our asses off to build.”
Lyle shrugged. “You just got screwed. Probably never happen again.”
“Why? Because I already had my turn?” he said. “Nothing’s even in this world. You should know that by now.”
Lyle cleaned a glass and frowned at him. “When you start talking like that, I know you’ve had enough.”
Only Lyle could get away with cutting him off. Which was just as well, because Griffin was getting worked up about something he couldn’t change. Shifters were here, and short of blowing them into little bits, they were here to stay. Here to destroy human lives. Here to divide humanity into sides . . . Hell, Lyle was right. He had had enough. He pushed back from the bar. “I got an early morning tomorrow anyway.”
“Hot date with your female captive?”
“Hot” was one word to describe her. “Lethal” was another. “I’m giving her the night to cool off.”
Lyle’s eyebrows rose. “You think that’ll help?”
“No, I don’t,” he admitted.
“Better bring your A game,” Lyle said, grinning from ear to ear.
And a gun,
Griffin thought.
Griffin thought.
Lyle reached under the bar and handed Griffin a stack of letters. “Your mail. All bills. Sorry.”
Of course
. Bills that weren’t even his to begin with. He was still paying for a life that Parker had charged while living as Griffin. How do you prove to a creditor that a shapeshifter stole your DNA and ran up the bills? You don’t. Just another reason to drink.
. Bills that weren’t even his to begin with. He was still paying for a life that Parker had charged while living as Griffin. How do you prove to a creditor that a shapeshifter stole your DNA and ran up the bills? You don’t. Just another reason to drink.
Griffin gave Lyle a wave good night and walked through the kitchen to the back of bar. He pushed open a heavy door and climbed the stairs to the small apartment Lyle sublet him.
His cell phone rang, and he checked the incoming number before taking the call. “Hey, little brother, what’s up?”
“I got you by one inch,” Tommy Mercer replied. “When are you gonna stop calling me ‘little’ ?”
Griffin smiled. “When you can kick my ass on the basketball court.”
“Bring it on, shorty.” Tommy laughed.
“You just calling to check on me again?” Griffin asked, partly serious. Everyone in his family thought he had a drinking problem, and he swore that they were taking shifts calling him to make sure he wasn’t lying in a gutter somewhere.
“Please,” Tommy said. “If anyone deserves to get loaded every night, you do.” Then he sighed. “Listen. I screwed up, and now Jen won’t talk to me.”
Jennifer was the sweetest woman on the face of the Earth. How she’d managed to stay married to Griffin’s brother for a year was still a miracle in his mind. “Why are you calling me?”
“ ’Cause you were married once, a lot longer than me. You know how to handle these things.”
Griffin slowed his steps. “I’m not the best person to ask about married life.”
“Well, you’re gonna have to do. Listen, I told Jen I’d watch the baby so she could go out Friday night for dinner or whatever with her friends. But then I found out it’s my turn to host the poker game. So I asked her if she could, you know, move her girls’ night out? And she freaked out on me. What did I do wrong? I mean, they can do it anytime.”
Griffin shook his head. His brother was an idiot. He reached his apartment and unlocked the door. “Give her the night.”
“What? No way. I got five buddies planning on this. There’s even a game on.”
“You made a promise. Keep it.”
Tommy swore. “This sucks. I never used to have to rearrange my life for anyone.”
“And you didn’t have anyone who loved you as much as Jen does either or a baby with your name. Take your pick.” Griffin stepped inside. It was dark, and he left the lights off as he tossed the mail on the coffee table.
It took a few seconds, but Tommy finally came around. “Okay, okay. I’m a jerk.”
“Truer words were never spoken,” Griffin said and turned on the TV. He muted the sound.
“Fuck you. You’re uninvited to the poker games.”
Griffin grinned. Tommy lived in Arizona. “I’m working overtime this week anyway.”
“See? That’s what I’m talking about,” his brother said. “You don’t have to clear your schedule with anyone. I bet you don’t miss being married at all.”
Griffin stood in the middle of his empty apartment. The only sign of life came from the TV. The only sounds came from the city below and through the walls. No one made dinner for him. No one greeted him.
“Have fun babysitting.”
“Thanks for nothing.” Tommy hung up.
Griffin set his cell phone next to the blinking answering machine. He pressed the Play button and slipped off his jacket.
“Mr. Mercer, this is the Fairwell Collections Agency calling about an outstanding debt—”
He loosened his tie and hit the Skip button.
“Hello, Mr. Mercer. We have called several times about a bill you owe—”
Skip button. He tugged off the tie as he listened to two more collections calls. Damn vultures. He no sooner got one off his back than two more popped up. He threw his tie on the back of the chair, sat down, and rubbed his eyes.
He skipped through the messages until he heard his grandfather’s voice.
“Hello, Griffin. This is your grandfather, Sani, calling from the reservation.”
Griffin gave a quiet laugh. Every day, it was the same. His grandfather called and introduced himself. Like Griffin might actually get a chance to forget who he was.
“I hope this message finds you well.”
His grandfather’s voice was even, strong, and patient. His Navajo Indian accent warm and proud. Griffin had worked hard to shake the unique way his people spoke. It only made him more different from everyone else here.
“I had a vision about you last night.”
Griffin frowned at the phone. His grandfather rarely shared his visions. He preferred for Griffin to make every mistake in the book. When he
did
share his visions, they were so cryptic that Griffin rarely figured them out—until the bullets started flying.
did
share his visions, they were so cryptic that Griffin rarely figured them out—until the bullets started flying.
“I saw a Skinwalker standing over your still body on the ground. The Skinwalker wore a woman’s face.”
Camille’s face came to mind immediately. He was tempted to stop the message right then and there, but that would disrespect his grandfather.
“Her hair was the color of the red fox. Her body was as a wolf. Her eyes were like an eagle’s. The Skinwalker was covered in blood. Her hands were bloody.”
That would be the flying bullets
.
.
“Rain came down and turned the ground to winding rivers. Lightning set the trees on fire. Great thunder shook the ground.”
And all hell breaking loose
.
.
“The Eagle cried.”
Griffin closed his eyes and laid his head back. As he expected. Weird, and cryptic, because there was no way in hell she would cry for him.
“Heed this, Grandson,” Grandfather said.
“Hágoónee.”
“Hágoónee.”
Then he hung up, the answering machine gave a long beep, and silence swallowed the living room again.
CHAPTER THREE
C
am had woken from a restless sleep in a lousy mood, and it didn’t get any better after that. They wouldn’t let her talk to her father. They wouldn’t answer any of her questions. They were assholes, every one of them. By the time Mercer and his boss made their appearance in the interrogation room, she was ready to tell them all to shove it.
am had woken from a restless sleep in a lousy mood, and it didn’t get any better after that. They wouldn’t let her talk to her father. They wouldn’t answer any of her questions. They were assholes, every one of them. By the time Mercer and his boss made their appearance in the interrogation room, she was ready to tell them all to shove it.
She sat across the table from them, glaring at Director Harding or Hard-ass or whatever his name was standing in front of a map of the tristate area on the wall monitor and rambling along as if she wasn’t even there. Three armed guards stood inside the room, and there were more outside—lots of security. XCEL was afraid of her. That was the best part of her day so far.
“These are the locations we believe the Shifters targeted and attacked.” Director Harding tapped his fingers on the map. “Your job is to visit every site and catalog each Shifter scent you find.”
“Catalog?” she asked.
He glanced at her as if she was a pesky fly. “Yes, catalog. By scent.
Shifter
smell.”
Shifter
smell.”
He emphasized “Shifter” as if it was a dirty word. And on this world, it was. She’d gotten used to it in the short time she’d been here. Still, the hatred of her kind ran deep and to human base fears.
Cam cut a glance at Mercer. He met her eyes but said nothing. His dark stare gave him away though. He hated Harding. It didn’t make her feel better that she agreed with him on that.
She frowned back at Harding. “You want me to play bloodhound for you?”
He nodded, completely blowing off her comment. “Yes. Only a Shifter can identify another Shifter by scent.”
Cam addressed Mercer. “There are plenty of other Shifters who could do this. Why me?”
Mercer shrugged. “You got caught.”
She glared at him with all her might.
Harding continued. “That’s only half the mission. After you and Agent Mercer investigate those areas, we have several suspects we want you to check out. We think they are part of a larger group bent on terrorizing this region. We need to infiltrate their ring so we can bring them down.”
She raised her hands. “Again, why me?”
“All the Shifters we have working in XCEL have been exposed already. We need someone new who can go undercover, blend in, and talk their language,” Harding replied, sounding annoyed by her questions. “Someone who can gain their trust and get Mercer inside without suspicion. Someone who won’t be seen as a threat.”
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