Shifty Magic: Shifty Magic Series, #1

Chapter One

Charlotte, NC ~ 2033

The smell of death saturated the hot night air of the alley around me — rancid food, putrid carcasses, dead dreams. I told myself I wasn't worried.

But annoyance still wrestled with concern in the pit of my stomach. I hoped for Wizard's sake she wasn't part of the dead things trend.

Here, bad cat, I whispered, my hand hovering close to the modified Browning BuckMark strapped to my thigh. Nothing pissed me off like losing something I loved on a steamy June night when I should've been kicking back in front of my air conditioner. Family. Sheesh.

A drop of sweat slid down between my breasts as I stepped over something slimy and crept toward the end of the alley. The loading area of the abandoned Walmart behind my apartment building was a favorite haunt of Wizard's. Always plenty of mice.

Plenty of other things too, but she never thought about that. Why would she? In her mind, she was invincible.

About twenty yards ahead of me, a hungry, screeching cackle sliced through the murky glow of the sporadic streetlights. I froze, my senses going on high alert. Nine years ago, cat owners only worried about other cats or maybe a stray dog getting their pets. The paranormal terrorist attacks had changed that. Turns out there's a lot more out there than humans ever thought.

As I approached the loading area, I flattened my back against the brick wall and inched toward the corner. I was new to the private investigation and bounty hunter business, but not to survival. And I had an unfortunate knack for making enemies.

I’d been told my big mouth had a lot to do with it. Was it my fault the world was full of annoying people?

Another burst of grating jabber echoed off the back of the old Walmart and into the alley. Wizard shot past me, her fluffy tail straight out as she tore down the alley and back the way I'd come. I jumped, my heart pounding in my ears.

Grinding my teeth, I sucked in a few deep breaths to calm my nerves. My streetwise cat's terror was a bad sign for somebody. Probably me.

I slid my gun out of its holster, checked the silencer and crouched down. With my thumb, I pressed the hidden button on the left above the grip and the gun’s add-ons gave a soft snick. A vial dropped into position and a hollow glucose-based needle rotated into the arming chamber.

Inching forward far enough to see past the end of the alley, I risked a glance into the loading area. One stubborn streetlight on the other side of the broken security fence cast its inadequate glow across the cracked asphalt. Shadows pushed around the edges of the open space, deepening where they cluttered up against rusty dumpsters and smashed crates.

A young woman stood inside the slash of light, huddled in on herself, shaking. Long curly hair, average height, on the plump side. Maybe early twenties like me.

Unlike me, who’d always been too lean, her boobs looked ready to spill out of the low-cut halter top she wore. The tight micro skirt encasing her hips was so close to showing her bits that if she twitched, I'd be scarred for life.

Three male vamps cruised around her like sharks, fangs displayed like sharp, curved knives. Their features had already sunk into parodies of a human face, like fleshy skulls as their insatiable hunger gained control.

Bad news for Miss Boobies. They were about to feed.

From the cover of the alley, I went down on one knee, my Browning gripped in both hands. How much money had they offered to lure their victim out of her zone and into such a dangerously secluded area? Or had they only promised her the erotic trip their venom gave?

Like most people she must be incredibly stupid about vampires. Dig below the propaganda put out by the vamp hierarchy, and you found vicious predators with only contempt for humans.

Like cattle to slaughter, people had no idea what they were dealing with.

I aimed at the biggest abomination, a once-human thing of about two hundred and fifty pounds; tall, broad, and muscular. A prickle of intense focus skated over the back of my neck as I breathed steadily and slowly squeezed the trigger.

The pistol gave a muffled crack and kicked up. The vamp dropped like a stone.

His companions froze, utterly still as only paranormals can do, and I hit the second one, a tall, dark-skinned punk with a lean street-fighter's build. That left the smallest one — light skin covered with tattoos, buzz cut black hair, and coming right at me.

I bolted out of the alley as he sprang for me, ducking as he launched. He missed my throat, but latched onto my bare shoulder, sinking his fangs into my left deltoid. Hot pain speared out into the muscle.

Pulling back as we went down, I pressed the barrel of my gun into his stomach and fired.

He gurgled as we landed and went limp, a dead weight sprawled halfway across me and attached to my arm by a pair of fangs. Disgusted, I gripped his jaw and squeezed to pry open his mouth.

The first whispers of warm, orgasmic ecstasy slid into my mind and body as the neurotoxin in his saliva entered my bloodstream. In minutes I’d be incapacitated, drowning in bliss.

Since my own special formula of poison only kept vamps down for a max of twelve minutes, I had to work fast or face the consequence.

Three furious monsters, one unconscious meal? I’d never wake up.

Wiggling his limp head around, I yanked his fangs out of my shoulder, not caring too much if a few scraps of me went with him. The extra bleeding would help, carrying his spit out with it and maybe buying me an extra minute or two.

Free of his teeth, I shoved the vamp off me and rolled to my knees. My attention locked onto the girl, safe for now, even with two vamps sprawled around her. She’d sunk to the ground between them, her arms wrapped around her, and sobbed quietly as shock set in.

I reached around my back and unclipped a Paranormal Restraining Collar, or PRC, from my belt. Thanks to the venom, I wasn’t sure if I had ten minutes, or thirty seconds. I only knew I had to move fast. Her problem would have to take a number.

Ignoring the the blood trailing down my arm and the way the ground kept trying to tip me over, I got to my feet and sprinted across the asphalt of the loading area to the watery pool of light under the lamppost. Bracing the sole of my work boot against the thick, beefy shoulder of the first vamp I’d shot, I shoved him onto his back.

Leaning down, I snapped open the PRC and secured it around his neck. The collar activated on contact, sending out an electromagnetic pulse that interfered with the extra vampire DNA in his cells.

In seconds, the indicator light turned white, and then switched to dark red before holding steady. His face immediately smoothed into non-feeding normal, showing clean, square-cut features that could be called handsome if you had a taste for lumberjacks. When he regained consciousness, the collar would keep him neutralized to human and feeling crappy enough to be ignored as a threat.

I staggered as another wave of dizziness washed through me like I'd just slugged down my fourth martini. I was tempted to lock my last collar around the throat of the moron who'd taken a chunk out of me, but common sense won out. All vamps were strong and quick, but some more than others. The fact that I’d won the fight tagged him as a wimp.

Turning, I slapped my other PRC on the lean, tough-looking fighter who'd dropped to the ground near the girl.

I was so close, she moaned quietly as she rocked back and forth. I wanted to see what it was like.

It suckths, I said, my words slurring a bit around the edges. Not a good sign.

I fumbled with the button on the Browning and finally managed the two consecutive jabs that opened the arming chamber above the barrel. Focusing my resentment to help me concentrate, I shook out the vial of vamp poison.

Flicking the hinged metal cap open with my thumbnail, I shook out a few drops of the oregano oil formula into the wound on my shoulder. A smell like homemade spaghetti sauce mixed with dirt floated up from the ragged, oozing holes as they bubbled and hissed and burned like hell.

A moment later, my head started to clear. What knocked out or killed vamps was an antidote for humans.

What are you doing out of the zones? I asked, checking the liquid level of the vial before reloading it.

There was only enough left for one more discharge. If the biter by the alley came to, I'd need it, and to hell with the consequences if he was still unconscious when the cops arrived.

Survival was worth any risk, even if one of their iC units detected my slightly illegal concoction. Personally, I found the new law against humans running around with substances that could kill dangerous paranormals a pain in the ass and not worth my attention.

They offered me a thousand credits, she said, her tone forlorn. Plus everyone says getting bit is the best feeling in the world.

I glanced at the vamp near the alley. Did he just twitch, or had I imagined it? They would've drained you.

She unwrapped her arms from around herself and brushed back the mop of curls that had fallen over her face. Might have been worth it, she said with a bitter laugh.

You been walking the streets long? She had to be new to have done something this dangerous.

She shrugged. Since my ex kicked me out.

What's your name?

Blood Kitten, she said, giving me a defiant look.

A disbelieving snort came out before I could stop myself and I lowered my estimate of her age by a few years. May I call you Blood, or do you prefer Ms. Kitten?

Angry blue eyes narrowed on me. You’re all the same, especially you Weres. You think humans can't take care of themselves.

Wrong on both counts, but I didn’t feel like correcting her. Three vamps. One girl. Stupid choice. Consider yourself schooled, greenie.

She crossed her arms over her ample chest and rubbed her bare arms. I know what I’m doing. And I’m plenty tough. I could have used the money.

Not if you're dead.

A flicker of movement took my attention away from her, and my finger tensed on the trigger of my gun. Great, I muttered as the blur of the fast moving vamp I hadn't collared disappeared down the alley. Now who was making stupid mistakes?

My shoulder picked that moment to demand attention by giving the impression that a hot poker had been shoved into it. I pulled a med patch out of the front pocket of my jeans and tore open the thick foil wrapper with my teeth.

Taking out the quarter-inch thick, thumb-sized square. I pressed the button for medium and the patch expanded, thinning out to about three inches square. Med patches were developed during the war — Band aid, coagulant, antiseptic and numbing agent all in one miracle. I slapped it over the wound on my arm.

The prostitute's eyes widened with fear as she stared at the alley. Aren't you going after it?

Behind us, a wheezing hiss came from the big vamp I'd downed first. The leg of the one next to us twitched and a moment later, his eyes snapped open, unfocused and disoriented, but a normal human brown instead of the blood-engorged red of a hungry vamp.

I gripped the girl’s arm and moved us out of range. Let me get right on that. Happen to have a high-powered rocket cruiser nearby? Because that’s the only way I’m going to catch him.

She pulled out of my hand, and her lower lip stuck out in an annoying pout which had probably driven her parents nuts and customers found alluring. You don't have to be so mean.

Fun is where you find it. A siren echoed in the distance, coming toward us fast. Hope your license is up to date.

A black and white careened through the broken gate of the loading area and came to a stop, splashing a steady pulse of bright red light across us and the bodies of the twitching, groaning vamps. The driver got out first, a good-looking, clean cut guy who looked enough like the actor Bruce Lee to be his twin.

Addison Kittner, I should have known, Jim said, his expression turning friendly and appreciative the way a man's did when he'd gone out with a woman once and hoped he would, again.

Officer Perry, I said, emphasizing the formality. I liked Jim, but not in the way he wanted. So far, it hadn’t been necessary to directly discourage him, but that could always change.

His grin widened, then he noticed my arm and concern replaced the flirting. You're wounded.

Not seriously. The third one grazed me and took off. Officer Foster, I added, acknowledging Jim’s partner as he got out of the cruiser.

Kyle Foster was taller than Jim, closer to six feet, with the kind of pleasant, boy-next-door face that mothers approved of when they saw it coming through their door. Unfortunately, his good looks were paired up with a tedious personality.

What happened? he asked as he studied the vamps lying on the ground. With a moan, the skinny one rolled over and threw up a half liter of blood. Not a pretty sight.

Apparently temporarily human stomachs couldn't tolerate the delicacies of the vampire diet.

I heard an altercation and came to investigate, I said.

And subdued two vamps? Kyle's expression reflected his doubt.

They were getting ready to feed. I took advantage while they were distracted.

Uh, huh. He focused on the girl for a moment and then switched back to me. You got your scanner on you?

Suspicion tightened across my shoulders. Why?

Our iC's nearly out of juice, Jim said pleasantly as he moved past Kyle to stand just a little too close to me. We were on our way back to the precinct when the PRC call came in. There's only enough charge left to get a download from your scanner.

I unclipped the device from the left side of my belt and handed it to him. Be my guest.

Unlike theirs, at five years old my paranormal scanner was considered ancient technology. It consisted of a chunk of black metal an inch bigger than a deck of cards all around and a half-inch thick with a couple screens on the face of it. Not as sexy as the stuff they built into the iCommunicators now, but it was tough and ran twice as long on its energy chip. When you're out all night without access to a recharger, good-looking doesn't mean crap to you.

Jim fiddled with the unit for a moment, finally locating the on button at the bottom. Sorry, he said as he aimed the energy sig bar on the top at me and swept the device down the front of my body. Gotta follow policy.

The scanner beeped and the narrow Species Type strip on the front showed yellow. Below it, a bigger screen displayed a list of pertinent information like licensing, birthdate and so on. Human, Jim reported to Kyle, per police procedure.

I enjoyed watching the girl's expression of shock.

Addison Kittner, nineteen. Recently, he added, giving me a wink. Five-eight, one hundred thirty-five pounds, black hair, dark blue eyes. Licensed private investigator and bounty hunter since 2032.

Jim saved my scan and went through the same steps with the Kitten chick. The bar flickered between purple and yellow, and he gave the device a couple of smacks against his palm. How old is this thing?

Old enough to handle a dunking in the Ballantyne fountain and keep working, I said smugly. The night we'd met chasing the same purse-snatching arsonist, his fancy pants iC hadn't fared too well.

After a second, the species reading settled confidently on yellow, and Jim's amused gaze flashed briefly at me. Human, he said to Kyle. Kathy Wagner, twenty-four.

Twenty-four my ass. If she’d made it that far, she would know better than to put herself in danger. And she wouldn’t pout about it if she did.

Five-three, one hundred and forty, brown hair, blue eyes, Jim continued. Licensed for solicitation in Charlotte, 2031, Zone 9. Expires in two weeks. He gave Kathy a pointed look.

Jim stepped over to the lumberjack. He squatted down next to the vamp, who after fifteen minutes in the collar was curled up in a fetal position drooling. With the suppression of the PRC, the scanner wouldn't give an accurate reading, so Jim pushed the device against the vampire's neck and pressed another button that shot a sterilized needle into the skin to get a sample of blood.

He gave a low whistle as information scrolled up the scanner's screen. Glancing at me, worry flashed across his features. He stepped over to the other vamp who had his teeth clamped together refusing to give in to the nausea and pain the collar caused. Jim repeated the procedure and the concern tightening around his eyes deepened.

Well? Kyle asked, pulling a thin, sleek iC out of his pocket to receive the info.

We'll have to call this one in so they can be ready for us. Jim inched back from the two vamps and unclipped the holster lock on his gun. Addison's caught herself a couple of High Church renegades.

Kathy Wagner burst into tears.

The closest station that was equipped to handle non-humans was the one everyone called Tryon Bird. Nine years ago it had been an art museum. Since then it had been gutted and renovated to hold paranormals. Something about being built over a ley line, I'd heard. Whatever. I liked the silver bird sculpture which still stood in front of the building.

I remembered the way this part of Charlotte had looked when I was a kid, all buzzing with shops, restaurants, and upscale offices. Like the rest of the city, it had taken a beating during the 2024 attacks, and now it was where all the worst of everything lived and did business. The cops stayed busy here, and tonight was no exception.

When I walked in behind Jim, Kyle, and the stumbling vamps, three officers were on one side of the broad entrance hall trying to pin a collared teen against the wall. Two more cops had another one pushed into the corner with their guns pointed at his chest. From the shouting and name calling, it sounded like the two guys had gotten into a fight over a girl in a bar.

Their PRC indicators showed blue, which meant they were Weres, no matter the kind. They couldn't shift with the dampening effect of the collars, but they were just as strong as any other fit, pissed off eighteen-year-old guy. Maybe a little more so, since a PRC can't neutralize hormones and Were males produced fifteen percent more testosterone than humans.

As Jim and his partner hustled their prisoners through the gap, the Weres' nostrils flared and both men zeroed in with hot, hostile glares on the vamps. The two species had a history of hating each other though the details of why were kept secret. One theory was that vamps smelled something like dead skunk to Were noses, at least that's what I'd heard. Why not? Battles had been waged for less.

The Were boys sneered, lifting the corner of their lips back from their teeth into a snarl as their noses wrinkled up. The hostility