The Shifter’s Sign – 2

Being a true shifter isn’t the blessing it may seem. But through pain and darkness Perdita seeks to find her own life despite the ambition of others…

Chapter One – Taken (part two)

After an appreciable time Seth spoke. “It really is dead. Just leave it where it is and get the rest back on the bus.”
I heard the sound of a gun being cocked and hoped whoever would at least go for a head shot. The sound of a blow was much louder than the metallic click.
“What the frag do you think you are doing you motherfragger?” Seth sounded furious.
“Jest making sure it’s dead.”
“Well don’t.”
“Why the hell not?”
“Because if we leave it where it is and how it is, somebody is going to find it and it’ll be easy to reckon it froze to death somehow. You stick a bullet in it and they gotta investigate.”
“Oh. I guess.” The voice was grudging, then it changed to thickly lustful. “Can I just?”
“No. For frag’s sake it’s only a kid. Leave it. Find a willing one from the rest. And get the bloody females back on the bus right now. We wasted enough time on a deader. The males are already half an hour ahead, and now it’s started snowing again.”
I smiled internally at being described as a child. I’m actually somewhere around eight hundred years old, but I’m slim, soft skinned and peachy enough to easily be mistaken for a teenager – unless you look into my eyes.
While the hustle and bustle of departure went on around me the snow fell, at first lightly but it soon became a blinding blizzard. I was beginning to think I really might freeze to death beside this rough road when I felt a touch on my skin. I was being wrapped in something that looked like snow – only it wasn’t it was snowbird feathers warm from the sun. My bond partner, Moth, had found me and I called down silent blessings on her tiny head. As my body came back from the edge of freezing, I watched the loading of the bus through half closed eyes. It was time to gather evidence.
I used my camera implant to photograph Seth, his stupid companion, another hefty guy with a rifle, the plant, the bus and as many of the females as I could.
The engine started, and after a moment or two belching noxious fumes the bus moved away. It didn’t seem to me to be moving fast enough and I idly wondered if the engine might be sick. But then my brain woke up. The bus was waiting for someone. The question was who? Moth had obviously come to the same conclusion, because I couldn’t see, hear, or smell her. He broke out of the woods in his animal form: the biggest wolf I had ever seen. As soon as his feet hit the rutted tarmac he made the change. There wasn’t a break his stride as the grey wolf became a lean, tanned human. Naked and as fine as he could be. He leapt into the cab of the bus, as I took the necessary photographs of the one who betrayed his own.
I knew he would be unable to leave without assuring himself I was really dead and so did Moth as the snowbird quilt disappeared. The cold was almost harder to bear this time and my head swam. What dragged me back from the edge of oblivion was the knowledge that the double-dealing bastard would have won if I let my hold on my faculties slip. I dragged my mind back to pinpoint sharpness and held breath. Just in time as somebody jumped lightly out of the bus and walked over to where I lay in the snow. I could feel the cold burn of his eyes and I knew if I looked up I would be skewered by their blueness. However, I wouldn’t give him that satisfaction.
Eventually he spoke, and the voice that had seduced a thousand women had lost none of its potency, but I was armoured by anger and all I could hear was the treachery that underlay his beauty.
“I guess you really are dead. In which case.”
Some instinct forewarned me what the tiny sound of a zipper portended and I composed myself. The stream of urine was at least warm as he directed it over my face. When he had finished he laughed although it was a harsh, tearing sound that held no amusement.
“You always said you’d kill me before I scent marked you. Seems like I killed you instead.”
I heard him turn away as the acrid smell of him filled my nostrils. I mentally added his name to the list of those who wouldn’t see the next dawn. I didn’t dare open my eyes as the sockets were filled with piss, but I the sound of him whistling as he walked away pierced me like a Toledo blade.

Jane Jago

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