Happy Friday! Note, this story is NOT polished. I will be posting a scene or chapter weekly. Expect an urban fantasy world. Romance and mystery. And magic, of course. Enjoy!
PART 12
“Me? I’m not changing anything,” I pointed out.
Lobo shrugged. “I lied for you. I never lie.”
“Could’ve fooled me. You didn’t even blink when you lied to the police and Micah.”
“See? You’re changing me already.”
“Stop. I didn’t ask for you to fib.”
He just stared at me.
I squirmed. “What?”
“What are you running from?”
I tensed. “What makes you think I’m running?”
“Please. I thought we were going to tell each other the truth?”
I studied him, trying to see what I needed to see. But except for a sense of powerful shifter, I felt nothing. It was as if he’d closed himself off deliberately, waiting for me to make a choice.
“What if I tell you and you turn me in?”
He raised a brow. “Is there money involved? Honey? Salmon? Roses?”
“Maybe money.” I tried not to smile. The possibility of being turned in shouldn’t be funny. “I can’t be sure about the other stuff.” I coughed to hide a grin.
He shrugged. “Without honey, I’m nobody’s bitch.”
Okay, I laughed. That was funny. When I’d calmed down, I paced, too nervous to sit, and explained. “It started six years ago. I don’t know why, and I don’t know who, but someone’s after me.”
He motioned for me to continue.
“I never knew my parents. I was left on someone’s doorstop as a toddler and raised in an orphanage. I’m told it wasn’t a bad place, but I don’t remember much of my younger years. I grew up outside of Atlanta, where it’s ungodly hot. The nice thing about Hotlanta is that mages are a big deal down there, which helped when I showed low-level finder abilities. You lose your keys, your ring, your way to your friend’s house, I can help you. Anything bigger than that, I’m useless.”
“So, you didn’t work in law enforcement then.”
I was glad of that. The small percentage of high-level finders usually got placed in upper level law enforcement agencies—voluntarily or otherwise. “Nope. No finding kidnapped babies and missing people. I’m limited in what I can find. It’s enough that I’m a mage, which made me an employable evo out east. You find a lot of mages out there, but not a lot of shifters or witches.”
He nodded. “Shifters need open spaces. Cities aren’t good for our kind. And no matter what the familiars say, they need the wild too. Good witches know that.”
The symbiotic nature of the familiar/witch pairing interested me but wasn’t what he’d wanted to know.
“Right. Anyway, so I had just graduated high school when some people approached me. They looked official, like secret police or FBI or something. I thought they wanted me to come work with them. I had applied out of school, interested, but not thinking I’d get a job there with such a low-level talent. Instead, they took me to some abandoned warehouse and…”
Images of chains and fire and angry monsters became my world. I felt that fear, scented evil, and under the cover of darkness had shifted for the very first time into a mouse. A change that had saved my life.
“Red?” Lobo’s deep voice calmed me.
I took a deep breath and let it out. “It was a nightmare. He asked me a ton of questions.”
“He?”
That sounded right, but the niggle of memory slipped away. I shrugged. “He, she, they. I can’t remember. I was just a scared girl. I didn’t know anything. But they kept asking about my powers and what I could do and who I thought I belonged to. None of it made any sense.”
“What powers? You’re an evo.”
“That’s what I told them. I find things. Level 2. It’s not like finders are ever that strong on the power scale. There’s maybe a handful of anyone above a level 6 in the whole country, East or West. They didn’t believe me.” I shivered, remembering the last woman who’d held me at gunpoint. “They never believe me. I’m not an elemental or shifter.” Sometimes I think if I say it enough, I’ll be normal. “I’m no witch either. I’m a mindmage. Period. But that never matters. They’re always trying to take me in to someone. The last person said ‘he’ wanted me. I’ve tried to talk to them when they find me, but they don’t communicate well.” I patted my shoulder. “I can still feel the bullet passing through. Not fun.”
“Damn.” He looked bemused, not worried or upset. “So, they’re still after you, and you have no idea why.”
“Exactly. At first, it took them a long time to track me. I’m a finder, which makes me naturally immune to being found by anyone if I don’t want to be. I’d stay hidden for years then need to move. But the last few times, it was months between discovery. I had to come west. I made it over the border and have been lucky. So far so good.”
He nodded absently, stroking his chin. “I know everyone in this town. No one moves that I and the others don’t know about. This was a safe bet, a lot safer than a city would have been.” He paused, studying me. “What brought you to Reunion?”