Shift Happens by McKenzie J. C

Author:McKenzie, J. C. [McKenzie, J. C.]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Wereleopard, werewolf, vampire, Paranormal, Romance, Vancouver, Werehyena, Shifter, Coyote, assassin, Urban Fantasy
Published: 2015-09-15T07:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-One

There has to be a joke in here somewhere. I had been stalking the Wereleopard’s scent all morning. One trail led to the SRD headquarters, while the other led me on a wild goose chase all over town, branching off in many directions. The bitch backtracked multiple times. Good thing I wasn’t only a great tracker, but also determined. Failure wasn’t an option and as Clint and Allan had so eloquently reminded me, time was running out.

Angie had been careful. She didn’t want her scent followed, which meant I was at least on the right track.

With my wolf nose to the ground, I followed her trail all the way to downtown Vancouver where it abruptly ended. Sitting back on my haunches, I howled in frustration. How did Angie get on the SeaBus in Leopard form? Or did she shift and go naked?

Someone brought her clothes.

That had to be it. But who?

Sniffing around the on-ramp, I ignored the stares and gasps of norms waiting for the next vessel to arrive, clad in their business attire, ready for another day in the office. There was no other scent I recognized aside from Angie’s. Other supes—Weres, Shifters, Vampires, a few Witches—had been here. But the area had a lot of traffic, so it meant little.

A snotty-looking middle-aged woman with perfectly applied make-up and an expensive haircut eyed me with apprehension. She pulled out her phone.

“Hello, Information? I would like the number for the SPCA.” Her crisp and curt voice screamed, I’m a business woman, don’t mess with me.

The SPCA, great. For norms the acronym stood for Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals. For Supes, Weres and Shifters specifically, it meant confinement, trouble and too much time spent explaining why we ended up naked in one of their cages. Time to get out of here.

The woman ended her call with a terse goodbye and something resembling a thank you before rapidly punching in whatever number they gave her, all the while eyeing me with an equal dose of disgust and fear. Obviously a cat person.

I loped out of the SeaBus terminal and ambled down to the water. Hidden by a walkway, where people walked along the bay on their breaks. Garbage and human waste littered the shoreline and filled my nose, which wrinkled at the assault. Homeless took shelter underneath the walkway, invisible to the general public, forgotten or avoided.

Today, the area was vacant. I shifted to my falcon and flew the short distance between downtown Vancouver and the North Shore.

Finding a similar location on the other side, I shifted back to my wolf and found Angie’s scent immediately. Circling the area repeatedly, I sniffed the ground like a cocaine addict over spilt powder. There was no mistaking the mingling of Angie’s citrus scent with decaying matter.

This can’t be right.

Angie had been picked up in a car from this location by Vampires and the thickness of it told me it happened on more than one occasion. I didn’t recognize this particular stench of decaying bloodsucker.

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