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  © Copyright 2017 by Poppy Deveaux - All rights reserved.

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  Shifters in the Shadows

  By: Poppy Deveaux

  Table of Contents

  Shifters in the Shadows

  HERE IS YOUR SPECIAL BONUS!!!

  Apparition Threesome

  Bearback Mountain

  Savage Urges

  Closing The Deal (Part 1)

  Closing The Deal (Part 2)

  Ghosts Inside

  A Billionaire’s Heart

  Taken By Two Ghosts

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  Shifters in the Shadows

  Glossary

  Blood-born: a human bitten by a werewolf or wolven, or a bear or bearen before she or he shape shifts.

  Blood pure: the dominant blood type of a werewolf, wolven, a bear, bearen or a were-shifter after transforming into their dominant species, or a human.

  Bearen: a coven of bear shifters populating Smugglers’ Cove predating the California Gold Rush.

  Attacked by a bear first, and a wolf, second, creating the race.

  Half-ling: a human that is part animal, and unable to change into a werewolf and remain one during any cycle of a moon phase.

  ‘The Cove’: aka Smugglers’ Cove, nicknamed by the inhabitants.

  Shifters: any creature or human able to change into another being.

  Were or Weres: a werewolf; or a were shifter.

  Were-shifters: a heathen race of humans turned soul eaters who can take the form of a human or a werewolf at the wax of the full moon. A race believed to have become extinct in the 16th century, they are alive and thriving, threatening the future of every breathing species that are not their own.

  Wolven: a wolf that is part animal, part human, and can change into a werewolf, and remain one during any cycle of a moon phase.

  Chapter One

  The 50-foot pines arched from the snowbank towering into the azure black sky. Ridge swung his lanky frame from the roadside to the guard rail. Angling his broad shoulders level with his torso above the granite face of the canyon.

  Wasn’t so rough. He’d scaled bigger stone faces than this back at the indoor rock climbing club. Trekking from the riverbed to the bridge had gotten some heat pumping through him again. He saw the taillights of his pickup had dimmed but it was still a good sign. The most he’d had time to pack was a couple of button down dress shirts and a tux he hadn’t worn in years. It was the only way to get a head start on the holiday traffic crawling north from the Bay Area, so he could meet up with his brother in Smugglers’ Cove.

  The cool of the night burned the stubble on his cheeks and stung through his ripped jeans as he crossed the highway line in the melting snow. Ridge hobbled on his good leg, suspecting the battery of the truck was decent. He turned up the collar of his jean jacket and saw the fender of the passenger’s side gleam in the half moonlight.

  The paneling was curved against the fender. Aside from the bend, he could maneuver it and probably get the truck back onto the highway and make it to Griff. He heard a rustle in the pines bobbing over the rail. He searched the black of the night under the half moonlight behind him and beyond the glow of his headlights while his pickup continued to point in the wrong direction of the road.

  Ridge heard the howl of the wind on the lonely stretch of icy asphalt. The wind. Probably all it was.

  Figuring his phone was in his truck somewhere, he circled back to it. The GPS on it was about as unreliable as the four-walls he’d slapped on his vehicle that got him this far. Damned tires couldn’t grip the road any better than his hands when he’d been tossed from his truck and flung to the ravine after the impact.

  He still didn’t know if he had hit a bump or an animal.

  Inhaling sharply, Ridge’s breath fanned out like ghostly claws in the air. Better he get to this Smugglers’ place where his brother Griff had set up shop. Seemed his hard luck continued to dog him since that fateful night he’d survived about 10 years ago.

  Another howl sliced through the wind. Ridge spun toward the sound. The shards of light spilling from his pickup reflected off what seemed were two beads of light. Their gleam drew him like a moth to a flame until a blast of air gripped at his body, then he turned back his truck.

  He saw where he had hydroplaned into the guardrail. Grimacing at the wind, he hunkered down next the cab to make a closer inspection. The fender had seen better days but the alignment probably was fine.

  Could have been worse.

  His gray eyes narrowed as he ran a calloused thumb along the metal.

  Ridge stared as he felt the grooves that etched into the panel.

  Claw marks?

  The muffled voice of the radio started playing and he noticed a glow coming from inside the cab. Now the radio and his mobile phone decided to work. Flinging open the door, he heard the cherry sounds of the news filling the air.

  So he thought.

  “Reports of an unidentified creature has been seen again along the Modesto coast...The drastic changes in weather at moon tide are what local psychologists are calling a ‘psychotropic hysteria’. The creature is described as animal-like, twice the size of a man and having the appearance of, a ‘Sasquatch’.”

  Dialing down the volume on the radio, he saw the backlit channel flicker before it went out, again.

  He hopped into the cab, ignoring the stab of pain in his leg, and dialed up the volume, this time on his phone.

  “You got lost, didn’t you?”

  Ridge felt the corners of his mouth curve up and he tried the engine. “It’s the phone you recommended, big bro. Try to give me directions that are with the times. Eh?”

  “Told you once if I have a thousand times. Take a ‘Thomas’ with you.” Griff heard Ridge’s engine turn over then sputter. “Pat the gas.”

  “I know,” Ridge felt his timbre lift a notch. He tried the ignition again and the truck started.

  “Uh-huh. Still as dumb a grunt as ever. Business college is supposed to make you smarter.”

  “Shut up,” Ridge gritted. He listened to the quiet on the other end.

  “Everything kosher?” Griff said.

  Fine. At least his brother didn’t pry into his personal life like most people. It’d taken him years to sort what had happened between him and his fiancé. Ridge would open up about it when the time was right. If there ever was any to recall losing one of the most important people in his life. Somebody, he was thinking about spending the rest of his life with together. Ridge still felt raw about the events that led up to it. Like these last several hours finding his way to his vehicle. He wasn’t going to let it slip that he’d nearly rolled his transportation into a ravine. On a deserted highway that may as well have been Timbuktu instead of the great—and cold California north.

  “Yeah, but when I get there, you’ve got some explaining to do.” Ridge heard a longer pause.

  “These last few years have been a challenge for both of us. I’m glad you’re gonna be here and help me rebuild our family’s legacy,” said Griff.

  After his brush with death, Ridge ventured if it was some kind of sign. He was about to light into him about bringing somewhere populated by monsters. “Piss me off, and I�
��ll head back for San Fran.”

  “Do, and you’ll never hear the end of it.”

  Ridge’s smile broke into a full-fledged grin. “Eat it.”

  “Get your ass up here. We got a lot of catching up to do.” Ridge made a mental check of the directions Griff gave. Tapping a hallmark with a note, he added the winery whereabouts they both were supposed to be renovating. “Think you can remember that?”

  Ridge repeated his last reply. His big brother chuckled. “Good to hear you, too,” Ridge said even though they’d talked a couple days ago.” The subject of the accident with his fiancé decidedly moot.

  “Things will get better,” the topic shifted. “We’re the only family each other has, bro. And when you finally show after being MIA to me, I’ll be the one who can take a breather,” Griff poked.

  “Rehabbing got your panties in a twist?” Ridge could just hear Griff up a smart ass retort.

  “I’ve got plenty of distractions.” Ridge glanced at his phone, the emphasis on Griff’s words settling in on him. “Pay attention to the road, will ya?”

  “Whatever. Ass. See ya. K?”

  Ridge switched off his phone to conserve its power.

  Distractions?

  He checked the divider line before driving north on the road.

  What exactly was his big bro up to in the ‘Cove’?

  A swift assessment of the dashboard after testing his signal lights and Ridge was on his way. Adjusting the rearview mirror, he glanced at the road disappearing behind him. The pair of beads he imagined he saw blazed hotly in his mind. They reminded him of a pair of fiendish eyes.

  Get a grip, bud. Ridge shook his head. The glowing beady eyes he thought he saw was his imagination working overtime as sure as was as Santa was for kids. And he was about as far from being a brat as the road stretching farther behind him.

  Griff was the successful one in it, though. To the tune of double Ridge’s worth before Ridge had made his first billion. There had been a time when he and his brother were tighter than any family. Once, they used to share pretty much everything; their hardships and their wins. Ridge couldn’t stop the grief from overtaking him after he realized he would never love again.

  Snow began to drift onto the highway while he moved one hand from the steering wheel and switched the headlights to bright. His thoughts circling back to the night he’d lost his fiancé. A night like this one.

  No, he reminded himself. He’d worked hard to forget his past.

  Removing a metal cross from his neck, he slung it from his black shock of hair and wrapped the chain on it around the rearview mirror. Grabbing a wad of tissues from a box on the floor, he slapped them onto his leg.

  Ignoring the stab of pain, he concentrated on the road. Just a couple of more bends in these mountains and he would be in Smugglers’ Cove, according to Griff.

  The puncture marks in Ridge’s leg were soaked with blood. He’d see if there was a doc or a bar that was open. Though this ‘Cove’ probably had a curfew at dusk. Ridge had checked the Thomas Guide and it wasn’t even a blip on the map. It was tucked farther north past Modesto. No wonder there was snow.

  The silver crucifix swung side to side as he felt the truck rock. The wind was a beast tonight. He’d never needed a heater when he worked in The Bay. Even when plenty of days were overcast. Ridge buttoned his jean jacket feeling the cold. The cross near him both a comfort and reminder of his failure in life and love while he kept his eyes sharp on the highway.

  Soon as he saw to his leg, he was going to see if there was someplace he could score some warmer briefs. His skin tingled like it was being pricked by ice.

  *****

  A large muzzle poked through the drifts of snow that vanished as soon as it hit the ground. The gray-white face and whiskers breathed the scent of the traveler in the pickup traveling toward the rise of the moon above the hill peaks and it snarled.

  Another body stood beside him, her fur matted by the wind as both animals sniffed the air. The wolf beside her howled.

  “Quiet,” she warned.

  He paused and glowered. “What’s your problem?”

  She crossed in front of him, his gold eyes glowing in the half dark. “Oh, nothing. Except that, you could have killed him.” The female wolf bared her teeth and her tail stiffened. Her challenge crystal, if he pushed her she’d return it in kind.

  “He had it coming.” He started down the highway and she matched him paw to paw. “Why did you stop me,” she heard, aware they shared a telepathic connection, “I could have feasted on him.”

  “We have our orders,” she raced by him snapping three fast howls.

  The two of them listened as they cut across the bridge and into the woods along the river channels. More howls answered and as her golden-eyed companion caught up to the pack. “You don’t tell me who or what I can kill.”

  She stopped. “Try me,” then lunged.

  They tore at each other as she splayed her paws around his ears. She swatted at an earring. “What did I tell you about signaling to humans what we really are?” She bit at the pointy ear fur, chewing at the bauble until he bled.

  “That was my girlfriend’s, you witch,” he snapped.

  She body slammed him and he crumpled to ground in front the pack. “You’ll do what I say when I say. Or perhaps you’d prefer our brethren report back you’ve been eating humans on the sly?” He hissed and she growled. She snarled at the gray and black wolves around her. “What the ‘Mistress’ says, goes. Any of you got a problem with it?”

  They cowered with their teeth bared, piqued by the tousle.

  She nodded. “Good. We patrol the borders between here and the Cove. At the Mistress’ command. We’re the last bastion between the beasts that are terrorizing the cities from the coast to as far as The Bay. So far, we’ve been able to traverse the hills at night and sleep till noonday. If the beasts figure out how we move about, they’ll destroy us.”

  Gold Eyes laughed. “Liar. The beasts in this area want only food. The Humans.”

  She stared at him, her teal eyes bright. “And who do you believe they’ll eat after they gobble the human pure bloods? A half-ling like all of you,” she answered watching him and the rest of the pack was quiet. “Think what you will of the Mistress. But she saved me and each of you. The truck she had us find was a test.”

  “Test?” Said Gold.

  “Did I stutter?” Blue blinked. He hung his head and she pawed the bent earring. “Do not get captured by the humans. Any one of us could wind up in their control before each new moon.”

  “For how along,” the black wolf asked.

  “Until we know whether the traveler is someone we can trust?” She looked at the pack. “Each of you traded something important to you to be part of the wolven. So you could help to keep the town safe. Wearing any jewelry or clothing will get you recognized and might just get you killed. And how long?” Her bluish eyes shimmered in the half moonlight. “As long as it takes.” She ran into the night as the wolves followed.

  Gold brought up the rear as he muttered under his breath. “Until one of us finds someone who can lift the curse that’s damned us to protect anything that doesn’t transform. I tasted the human’s blood. It was like the other human’s. Rich, and laced with a power greater than I could fathom,” he ran with the pack harder.

  “Something evil?” His striped, gray brother wolf whispered.

  “Something probably powerfully wicked”, their black brother grinned.

  “Enough,” Blue said as she stepped in front of the pack. She led them down the moon shaded path to a cliff overhanging a bar in Smugglers’ Cove. “We’re here.”

  Chapter Two

  Ridge found the bar which wasn’t difficult.

  He climbed down from his truck in front of the Last Chance Saloon. They still have those?

  He pondered the sign then looked around, wondering why every car in town seemed to be here. Backing to his truck, he watched an oversized rig ease into the last sp
ace beside him. The exhaust from its tailpipe polluting all of the fresh air.

  Ridge saw a potbellied trucker hop down accompanied by a pencil-necked teen wearing an apron. The younger dude jumped onto the rig’s flatbed.

  “Git those cartons to the stockroom. There’s no telling how much beer’s been swilled since the last hunt.” The kid pushed his Peterbilt cap onto his curly blond crown and nodded.

  Swatting his own cap against his tree trunk things, the driver ran his thick palm over his Santa white beard as he regarded Ridge. “We don’t get many city slickers up here,” he said.