Chapter Six
Sasha
I stared at my cell phone for a minute, like that might change the wolf’s answer. He wasn’t the one who sent the creepy text message with the return number blocked. In my gut, I knew it wouldn’t have been him, but I didn’t want it to be true.
I parked in an empty lot on the west side of Griffith Park. With the new moon only a few hours away, I couldn’t stay in downtown Los Angeles. Just outside of the park, the undeveloped terrain stood in stark contrast to the skyscrapers and traffic gridlock of the massive city. Steep untamed cliffs loomed before me in the twilight, waking the animal lurking inside of me. This seemed like the perfect place for a jaguar to stay out of trouble.
I hoped. Since I’d been converted, Nero trained me to remain alert while the jungle cat prowled. Eventually I’d started to share the cat’s memory of new-moon nights and occasionally even control the jaguar. It had taken a few months before my human mind finally joined with the jaguar, accepting that one night a month I became a passenger within my own body, trusting that I would regain control with the sunrise.
After stashing my wallet and cell phone in the trunk, I locked the car and scanned the area for any onlookers. In the distance, a child rode on a large horse, trotting around the arena, but that was the only activity nearby. With my dinner and water bottle stashed in my backpack, I hit the trail up the east side of Mt. Lee. I’d eat at the base of the Hollywood sign. It’d be a good landmark to stow my pack so I could find it again in the morning. Plus, a chain-link fence topped with razor wire surrounded the perimeter, which I hoped meant that the jaguar wouldn’t be able to wander near any humans.
Assured that I was alone, I pulled out my toolkit, clipped a seam, and silently slid through the fence. I spent the next couple of hours carefully avoiding the security cameras. They were stationed randomly along the fence and on either side of the ends of the Hollywood sign, a necessity after folks decided the best revenge against the city of broken dreams was to kill themselves on it. Luckily they were outdoor, stationary cams so dodging them wasn’t difficult for me. After I shifted, I could become part of the wildlife, but until then, I couldn’t let the LAPD get tipped off to my trespassing. All I needed was to be arrested during a new moon. Just the thought of it sent a cold chill down my spine.
The only perk of working for Nero was safety when we needed to shift. The corporation owned thousands of acres of land, so all the jaguars in residence could shift during the new moon without the threat of being captured. Or worse. But working for them wasn’t worth the safety they promised. The veiled threat of exposure always lingered.
They used subtle methods of intimidation to keep us dependent on them for everything from a furnished apartment, to the use of company cars, to the top-notch medical care we could no longer receive from a hospital. Most of their operatives became so dependent and compliant that Nero was all that mattered. We got the tattoo and accepted our place as a cog in the Nero machine.
For the few like me who refused to conform, there were other incentives dangled before us. For me, it was a cure, a chance to go back to being myself, a woman. No jaguar, no shifting. Just Sasha Kincade, detective.
I took a deep breath and kept hiking. Selling my soul for an empty promise of a cure wasn’t something I liked to think about. Night had settled in by the time I reached the sign at the top of the mountain. The lights sparkled along Sunset Boulevard, hiding all the broken dreams behind the glamour of Hollywood. I sat down in the shadows of the large letter D and pulled out my foot-long Subway sandwich. Best to fill up before I changed, a full belly was my only hope to keep the jungle cat from killing. It didn’t always work, but it seemed to help.
From my perch, the congested freeways were silent as the stars twinkled above, giving my hideout an unexpected peace. In the distance, I could hear the lonely cry of the coyotes echoing through the valley. Peering up at the stars, my time was short. The cool breeze sent a shiver through me. Until then, I hadn’t noticed I was sweating.
I still dreaded the change. To say it hurt would be a huge understatement. Maybe it wasn’t so bad for the males who were born with shifter abilities, but for me, one of the bitten females, the pain was indescribable.
And the fact that it was unavoidable also sucked.
My fingers trembled as I unzipped my black sweatshirt. Next came my shoulder holster and the holster on my calf. I felt more naked without my guns than I did without my clothes, but I’d be armed again soon enough.
Sebastian had shown me security video of my jaguar form when we were both back at Nero. I doubt anyone would be stupid enough to try to mess with me after I shifted.
I tucked all my clothes and weapons into my backpack and stowed it behind the D of the Hollywood sign just as my back seized. Pain stole my scream before I could make a sound. I fell to the ground on all fours while my joints popped, bones mutating. Fire burned my flesh until sleek black fur forced its way through my skin like a million tiny needles. My throat constricted and my teeth lengthened as a growl of pained frustration escaped my powerful jaws. I panted through the anguish that brutalized my body.
When the ache finally subsided, I got to my feet, shaking off the last vestiges of humanity before I stalked silently into the darkness. My ears flicked, tracking the night sounds around me. In my jaguar form, my senses were heightened, and although I couldn’t speak, the human part of me remained alert, aware but trapped inside an animal with feral instincts. The cat stretched, enjoying its freedom while my mind lingered in the background.
My first few new moons after being bitten had been terrifying. Shape shifting wasn’t pretty like movie special effects—it was gut wrenching and ugly. The claustrophobic panic that gripped my mind made the jungle cat agitated and angry. These days I’d seen more changes than I wanted to count, and allowing the cat freedom to hunt came as second nature. Catching the scents of rabbits and gophers, I stalked my prey and listened for intruders. The pads of my large feet caressed the earth, moving silently through the moonless night. Sticking to the shadows, I raced faster, hunting.
Until I caught an unfamiliar scent.
The cat froze, whiskers shifting, nostrils flaring, while I scanned the darkness. Gradually I recognized what the cat had sensed. Similar to a coyote, but that wasn’t quite right. Then I placed it. Wolf.
My jaguar flattened its ears as I searched for the source of the scent. Inside I urged the cat to run. The jaguar couldn’t have known that wolves don’t run free in Los Angeles. But I did.
With all the mental push I could muster, I forced my will until we spun around and raced through the bushes without a sound, keeping distance from the wolf’s scent. When all traces of the intruder vanished, I stopped, listening to the night around me. The cat swished its tail, daring its adversary to show himself, and I cringed internally.
The sunrise couldn’t come soon enough.
…
I squinted into the daylight and took a deep breath. I was me again. Dirty, but alive. I wasn’t far from the Hollywood sign, either, so I carefully made my way to the D, dodging security cameras. Being caught naked on a security tape, definitely not on my to-do list. I wasn’t vandalizing, but this was private property. Naked trespassing wouldn’t be great on my resume.
I cursed under my breath when sharp rocks and dried stickers dug into my bare feet. By the time I reached the sign I was anxious for my clothes and definitely my shoes. I retrieved my backpack, and my brow furrowed.
I smelled the wolf again.