Page 101 of For Dear Life

“Duh. You told us to meet you here, asshole,” says Trent.

I pivot. “And what precisely were you planning to do, Kai?”

Kai’s shoulders straighten. “Teach the shifters to stay the fuck away from us.”

“How?” He blinks at me and I catch a violent image. “I sincerely hope you didn’t plan to kill him.”

Kai exchanges a look with Dale beside him, and I hear Rowan and Grayson approach from behind.

“Oh look, the witch brought her little helpers,” says Viggo. “Or did you invite them too, Kai?”

“No! This is between us.” Kai glances at me. “Leave.”

“You don’t think the shifters work alone, do you, Kai?” asks Rowan.

“We do,” snarls Viggo.

I take a step towards Trent and his mouth twists with disgust, nostrils flaring as if I’ve polluted his airspace. Our gazes lock and I push into the mind behind his amber eyes. What if I can take hold? Stop him shifting?

But there’s nothing in his head to latch onto. Beyond blackness; a dark void.

Yet unlike Oz’s mind at the arcade, red sparks hiss and spit in the recesses of his mind as if a firework failing to light. There’s a whispering inside that darkness, a low voice speaking in a placating tone.

Hairs involuntarily lift on my arms as I step back again. The dark magic within this construct radiates in a way I swear other witches and shifters should sense too.

I glance over my shoulder. “Did you call the police?” I mouth at Rowan, and he nods. His rucksack’s missing too. Hidden, I hope. I turn back to the group. “Kai. Please don’t cause more trouble for yourself or risk harm. I believe your life is in danger.”

“Help me kill the bastards then,” he says simply. “Or was your boyfriend really involved and you’ve come to help the shifters?”

“No fucking way,” spits Viggo. “She’s the real killer!”

I hold a palm over my forehead. “Why can’t anybody focus away from me to what’s happening around them?”

Rowan tries to take Kai’s arm but he side steps. “Come with me. We’ll wait in one of the offices.”

“No. Prove you’re on our side,” snarls Kai, looking at Viggo. “Help me teach the shifters a lesson.”

“Good grief,” I mutter. “A lesson? The only lesson happening here is in natural selection—a human who doesn’t possess enough self-preservation to continue his family line.”

Naturally, Kai looks blankly. “Huh?”

I dart a quick look at Grayson—drawing in Kai, Dale, and Viggo is possible mentally, but not Trent. He needs removing from the situation in case there’s a witch nearby to prompt him into action.

“Kai. Go with Rowan and wait for authorities before this ends badly,” I say.

“No.”

Good. Grief. I throw myself at Kai’s mind too and bounce back. Is he wearing a new pendant beneath that shirt? Because his mind resembles the state from the party. In that moment, Viggo lurches at Kai and I dart between them, almost knocked off balance by Trent attempting to shove past. “Stop!” I shout.

Can Viggo shift yet? Will Viggo shift? Because the feral scent from Trent’s shifter side grows beside me. He straightens his shoulders, eyes zoning in on Kai.

“I said, stop!” With both hands, I shove Viggo in the chest and his mouth goes wide, roaring at me as his whole body slams against a shelf a few meters away. A box crumples, and soup tins spill to the ground to his left.

Kai barks a laugh in triumph and marches over to grab a can of soup, lifting it above his head, arm drawn back.

Rowan grabs the tin from him. “Kai, stop!”

I’m too focused on Trent whose changes are no longer subtle, the skin on his face stretching and contorting, a thick layer of fur begins to sprout as if he’s suddenly growing a beard.

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