The Shifters. Alexandra Sokoloff

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СКАЧАТЬ last time the city had been threatened by a rogue Other, but being in a fog of her own concoction was no excuse.

      And her inattention had put Fiona in danger, had nearly killed her. Had nearly killed both of them.

      It had been just three months since a series of homicides apparently committed by a rogue vampire had threatened the city, and Fiona, along with homicide detective and vampire Jagger DeFarge, had taken on the brunt of the investigation, the vampire community being Fiona’s special purview.

      It turned out the killer hadn’t been a vampire at all, but a shapeshifter, who had taken on vampire abilities after years of concentrated shifting into vampire form. A pair of such shifters, actually. And shapeshifters were Caitlin’s responsibility. Only she had been so—distracted…

      She shut her mind down then.

       No. I’m not going to think about it. It’s never going to happen again.

      But even as she thought it, she felt the touch of the wind brushing against her bare legs, slipping through her clothes…

      The wind.

      Her heart contracted again.

      The wind…soft and enticing, the warm breath of the Quarter.

      But something was off this morning, like the dream. The wind was not comforting and caressing, that familiar invisible lover. Today there was an edge to it.

      Bad wind, Caitlin thought again.

      She stopped in front of the paintings hanging on the bars of the fencing around Jackson Square, looking around her. As her eyes swept over them, she recognized paintings from her dream.

      And suddenly she had the distinct and unnerving sensation that she was being watched.

       From the comfortable invisibility of the alley, he watched the Keeper.

       She had been walking for blocks with no awareness of him. A bad sign—for her, anyway. For her—and for the city.

       She was lovely, though, that rippling hair, blonde as moonlight, that ripe body, all that coiled strength and sweetness, pale and voluptuous curves. He felt it stir him, the thought of how it would feel to be inside that lusciousness….

      Caitlin felt an intent, as clear as touch on her skin. She whirled and stared across the square at the intersection of streets.

      There. A shadow, slipping quickly into Pirates’ Alley.

      She froze on the cobblestone walkway, her heart in her throat..

      Then, without thinking, she ran back toward the alley.

      He hovered in the alley, aware of her sudden awareness, aroused by it.

       Unmask now?

       Too easy. There was a time, and he would wait for it.

       The Keeper whirled toward him and broke into a run, straight for the alley.

       He slipped back, insubstantial as shadow.

      Caitlin put on a burst of speed and tore around the corner of the Absinthe Bar, into the narrow alley.

      There was no one. The flat stones of the street were empty. She whirled from side to side, staring, her breath coming harsh in her throat as she scanned the doorways of the closed shops. The wind whispered in the corners, swung the antique shop signs on their chains….

      No one…but a feeling of presence and intent. Overwhelming, ominous. Gooseflesh rose on Caitlin’s arm, crawled up her nape….

      She backed away and ran.

       Chapter 2

      Armed with the largest café au lait available from Café Du Monde, Caitlin unlocked the door of A Little Bit of Magic, the mystic shop she and her sisters ran. Inside she locked the door firmly behind her; then, without even opening the wooden shutters of the bay windows, she marched back through the store, past the small coffee and tea bar, and the shelves of herbs and roots in glass jars, past bookcases of divinatory classics, histories of religion and magic traditions past and present, past jewelry cases full of sparkling gemstones set into intricate silver pieces and magical wands, to the doorway hung with its purple velvet curtain embroidered with glittering gold stars. She brushed through the soft folds into the reading room, a circular windowless space redolent with incense and hung with esoteric tapestries, a round table placed in the center, along with two high-backed chairs set across from each other.

      Caitlin crossed to a wooden cupboard with painted symbols, and opened the doors to remove a silk-wrapped rectangle, her Tarot deck.

      She breathed in, possibly for the first time since she’d entered the shop, and forced herself to be still, to focus, to release tension, to breathe from her center. When she had quieted her pulse, she stepped more deliberately to a hanging wooden shelf and took a match, which she struck to light the candles on the table, and then the ones in the tall metal candelabrum in the corner.

      After that she sat in one of the chairs, facing the back wall, centered the deck before her and unwrapped it. She closed her eyes and mixed the cards, once, twice, three times, spoke aloud the name of the city itself as querent, and laid out a simple spread: Past, Present, Future.

      “Where have you been?” she asked aloud, then reached and turned over a card.

      The Tower. Destruction. That was Katrina, of course, still a wound, leaving the city vulnerable. It also had overtones of the war between the Other races that had killed her parents, and of the recent upheaval in the communities because of the cemetery murders.

      “What ails you?” she asked, turned over a second card and froze, staring down at The Devil. One of the most feared cards in the deck. A predator.

      She forced her mind clear, spoke aloud calmly. “What is the future?” And turned another card.

      Death.

      Caitlin’s heart was pounding now, so loudly that she could barely hear herself think.

      Many Tarot readers tried to gloss over the Death card as an indicator of change, but sometimes Death meant exactly that, and in this configuration there was nothing benign about it.

       What question now? What?

      “What must I watch for?” she asked, breathing deeply, and reached to turn over a new card.

      The Seven of Cups. Illusion. The card she associated with shapeshifters.

      Something banged behind her, and she nearly jumped out of her chair.

      “Damn it.” It was her sister’s voice, and it came just as Shauna pushed through the curtain into the reading room and gasped, seeing Caitlin sitting at the table.

      “Cait? Mother Mary, what are you doing sitting there in the dark? You just scared the living daylights out of me.”

      “I СКАЧАТЬ