Skinwalker

The club has been closed for forty-five minutes when I hear the front door slam shut. I stop sweeping and look in the direction of the entrance. The bouncer left a while ago and his two tasks before leaving were to make sure there are no customers remaining in the club and to lock the doors. None have ever made the mistake of leaving either task unfinished.

A petite woman walks beyond the privacy wall, stopping only when she’s able to see the whole place. Her attention is up on the rafters as she removes one glove and then the other. The exposed club must look tacky under the harsh florescent lights to an outsider.

“We’re closed,” I announce, breaking the silence between us.

Her thin face turns toward me and that’s all I needed to recognize her. In this light, her aura is rich and gold, matching her honey eyes perfectly. Last time I saw her, I knew her hair was dark but tonight it looks like the color of cocoa and waves of curl flow to her shoulders; her skin is more peach than pale, and she’s my height, which is much shorter than I had imagined.

This is the hybrid I served a few nights ago.

She tucks her gloves into her purse. “We need to talk,” she responds, ignoring the statement I just made.

“I said, we’re closed.”

The woman crosses the painted cement floor toward me, searching for something in her purse. Stopping at the table in front of me, she sets her purse down and pulls a manilla envelope from it, completely disregarding that I’ve said anything to her.

“Don’t make me sick the wolf on you, lady. We’re closed.”

She glances toward the office next to the bar that contains Noah. The dark blinds beyond the tinted window are closed, just like always, and the door’s shut. She nods her head and then turns her attention back to me. “He can’t hear us,” she states, matter-of-factly.

Though I’m not sure why, I believe her. I don’t know what she is or what she’s capable of, but there’s something about her lack of care in regard to Noah’s presence that makes me believe he wouldn’t come to my aid, even if he needed him to.

I squeeze the handle of the broom with both of my hands until my knuckles go white. At least I have a tool to defend myself if necessary.

“I’m not here to hurt you, Piper. I’m here to ask for your help.” She extends the folder in my direction.

“I’m not in the business of helping people.” Especially strangers.

She sighs. “Let me rephrase: Queen Scarlet sent me to seek out your help.”

My stomach hollows and I have to swallow hard to get the pooling spit in my mouth down my throat as a thousand memories of the queen and my time in the government flood my brain.

It takes a moment, but I clear my throat and say, “No.”

“Please, just listen.”

“I said no.”

“Piper…”

“I’m not interested.”

For a moment the strange woman just stares into my eyes and when I don’t waver to her pleading expression, she removes a set of stapled pages from within the manilla envelope. The pages are extended in my direction, and I have no choice but to see what’s printed on them.

“If you can’t help the queen then maybe you can find it within your heart to help her.”

A photograph can’t catch the aura in a subhumans eyes, but I know it’s there, looking back at me. I know this girls’ pale blue eyes are lined with the standard silver halo because I knew her. The photograph is of Catherine Lucella, Queen Scarlett’s youngest sister.

I can’t help myself. I prop the broom against the table and take the small collection of papers, staring at the only person who made me feel cared for after being abandoned. Despite begin three centuries old, she held onto a personality, something many vampires tire of after too much life. In her words and actions, I knew she was an allay at that time in my life.

Before I fled the capitol, I was trained to be a legal aid by one of the queen’s ladies in waiting, Leona Pyke. I looked at data sheets just like this every day. Many are only one or two pages long and the purpose of them is to provide basic, yet pertinent information on the subhuman it’s printed about.

This form identifies the photographed subhuman telling the reader what their subhuman species is, their date of birth, date of mutation, and date of death when applicable. Their work history is attached, as is their home address and a family tree detailing the previous generation of kin and any generations following thereafter. If they’ve ever committed a crime, whether they’re found innocent or guilty is listed along with a summary of the accusation and the prescribed punishment.

The subhuman archive is filled with hundreds of millions of these dating back two centuries. Though they are becoming digitalized, most remain handwritten and bound in books that are tucked away from non-government officials in the legal library. Some have more detailed data sheets but most only have enough information to keep our census satisfied.

The documents in the archive are classified and only a few hundred authorized subhumans have access to it. Information like this should never be printed on a sheet of paper and brought out into this world. Especially information on one of the Lucella sisters. A tiny packet like this in the wrong hands, could destroy us.

I may not work for the queen anymore but I sure as hell am not letting the woman in front of me walk out of here with this set of information. It needs to be properly destroyed and I can’t blindly trust a complete stranger to do that.

“How did you get this?”

“Like I said, the queen needs your help.” With her manicured fingers, she extends the envelope in my direction again. “They’ve all been abducted within the last seven weeks.”

I take the packet and peer inside of it. Who would dare to kidnap, not only a vampire, but a princess? How could they gain that sort of access to her?

The shadowed face of a man who, thankfully, means nothing to me is the only thing I can see without taking the data sheet from the folder. “Finding missing people isn’t something I do.”

“No, that’s what I do.”

In other words, Queen Scarlet hired her to find me and now I know how stupid it was to believe, even for one moment, that I could hide from her. Of course, she would have a means of finding me whenever it suited her best.

“Then why haven’t you found these people?”

“Because we know exactly where they are.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Who are you?”

She extends her right hand in introduction. “Cassandra Reid.”

Instead of accepting the greeting that has come far too late, I tuck Catherine’s data sheet back into the envelope. “What are you?”

She takes her hand back understanding I’m not going to share in the exchange. “A witch.”

“Judging by your aura, that’s only partially true.”

She squares her shoulders and there’s a moment of silent deliberation. Clearly, she’s as used to hiding her hybrid mutation as much as I am. “I can use both male and female magics.”

I bet the queen loves having this woman at her disposal. A powerful witch must be incredibly useful.

“What do they call that?” Surely there’s some term that defines her.

She shrugs only her right shoulder. “Illegal. An abomination. A sin. A genetic violation. Take your pick.”

All terms I’m sure she has been referred to throughout her life because what she is, is forbidden within the covens of witches and wizards. To be honest, it’s astonishing she was even permitted to live. The mixing of magical genetics is dangerous, this woman’s potential could be limitless.

“How did you find me?”

“A series of locating spells.”

“Did she tell you what I am?”

Cassandra nods.

“Hm.” It shouldn’t surprise me.

The Queen gave this woman a printed data sheet on her sister, why wouldn’t she have given one of me to her as well? I wonder what all it said.

“Look, I get that you probably don’t trust me but these people, and dozens of other subhumans, have all been abducted. We have a responsibility to help them.”

I roll the envelope and tuck it in-between my pants and my skin, pondering out loud, “Do we, though?”

Her bushy eyebrows pull together. “Of course, we do. These people need our help, Piper. They’re being abducted. Taken from the people they love and given a cure they didn’t ask for. They’re Guinea pigs and many of them are dying in the process.”

My heart catches in my throat. This is the first time I’ve heard that subhumans are dying because of the ShM17 vaccination.

“How do you know all of this?”

“We planted a mute in there a few weeks ago.”

“And it isn’t capable of helping you further?”

She looks appalled. “She’s a mute, what do you expect her to do?”

“What do you expect me to do?” I retort.

“You can skin…”

“No!”

“Please, you have to consider this.”

“No, I don’t have to consider anything.” I haven’t used my ability in over two years and the last person I used it for was the queen. The last thing I want to do is relapse and become her puppet again. “I’m sorry about Catherine,” I truly am. “But I can’t get involved in this.”

For the first time since I was a child, I have people in my life who are actually family to me. I’ve got friends who want to keep me safe and see me succeed in life; a best friend whose basically my sister and a boyfriend who treats me the way I deserve. The life I’m living right now, it’s far too good to throw away.

Cassandra debates her next words and when she feels confident in what she wants to say, it spills from her mouth, “They have Tala Benally, too.”

It’s like the whole world pauses momentarily. Did she just say what I think I heard? While I’ve never meant Tala, I know her name well because of who she is to the people who fill my life; she’s, their alpha and the only female in history to carry a full set of werewolf genetics.

Kendal never said Tala had gone missing. Why would she keep that from me? Is this why Tate is alpha now?

“They’ve begun hunting hybrids, Piper, and it’s only a matter of time until we’re all found.” She places her purse on her shoulder. “Consider that while you’re considering the queens request.” Cassandra sets her business card on the table in front of me before exiting the club.