Chapter 3

He ran to his car and tore out of the parking lot. The Fields’ house was only about five minutes away, especially at midnight with very little other traffic.

The closer he got to the house, the more his bones ached. The gift may have skipped his generation, but the instinct was alive and well in his nervous system. It was a nuisance most of the time, but right now, he accepted the sibylline knowledge. It allowed him to monitor his daughter’s safety without being at her side.

He turned onto the street. Four houses down— Hank tumbled out the front door, rolling off the porch, and sprawling in the grass. Jeremy slammed on his brakes and leapt out of his car. Large, silky haired creatures, like a mongrel Afghan Hound, stood on its hind legs as it traipsed toward Hank’s crumpled body. Chelany? No this was an adult.

Jeremy stood in the yard, braced in a wide stance, in case the creature attacked him. But she didn’t seem to notice he was there.

Poppy? The legacy’s instincts revealed who this creature truly was. Jeremy had no idea Poppy had the gift— She leapt on top of Hank. He screamed a blood-curling cry and rolled up in a ball as best he could, covering his head. The creature’s long silky hair swayed like curtains as she slashed razor-sharp claws across Hank’s shoulder, flipping his body over on his back. The creature slashed right and left, shredding Hank’s chest into ribbons.

Blood splattered up and out. Its coppery-metallic aroma filled Jeremy’s nostrils. It saturated the ground, her claws, and even splashed her silvery-white hair with each swipe. Hank’s entrails burst out from his abdomen. His body moved only because of the force with which the creature swiped at him. The creature’s rage gave Jeremy pause. He’d seen a lot in his lifetime, but this was gruesome.

Soon, the creature realized its prey was dead. She sniffed Hank’s bloody body, then stood back. She twisted her head and bent her neck as if to relieve tension. Bones snapped with a dull pop, as the long silky hair retreated into her skin leaving only that which was on her head, and her body morphed into her human form. Poppy stood over Hank’s mangled form, but her eyes showed no coherent awareness. She staggered back. Looking out at nothing, as if in a trance.

Jeremy remained very still, observing, waiting. He would move when he knew it was safe. Although it was very apparent Poppy did not sense his presence. She turned and staggered to her door. Bracing one bloody hand on the frame, she pulled the storm door open and went inside. Jeremy lunged forward, sidestepping Hank, he leapt onto the porch and looked through the glass door. Poppy sat down in a recliner and leaned back. Had she gone to sleep?

This had to be her first shift. He didn’t know exactly how he knew, but from her trance-like state and ... he didn’t know. He just knew. No wonder he’d never sensed the gift in her scent. Hank must have finally crossed that line and drove the gift out of dormancy.

Jeremy had heard tales about latent appearance of the shapeshifting gift. He’d never witnessed it before. How apropos the woman he had admired and loved from afar would be gifted with the very legacy he envied in his own family line. His love for her swelled into so much more than it had been. He allowed himself a brief smile. Then his eyes focused on the situation.

Poppy killed Hank.

He looked like he’d been attacked by a bear. Bears were known to roam about these neighborhoods, looking through trash bins, raiding bird feeders, even turning over mailboxes. It was a viable story and Jeremy knew it would work. As for his presence, he’d just say he was coming over to check on his daughter and saw a bear running down the street, then he saw Hank laying in the yard.

He ran back to his car, popped open the truck, and took out a plastic tote full of cleaning supplies. An old family cleaning solution he had mixed and kept handy, rags, and scrub brushes. This wasn’t the first time he’d cleaned up evidence of a shapeshifter’s accident.

Poppy slept in her recliner while Jeremy meticulously and quickly removed her bloody handprint on the frame where she’d leaned and the door handle where she’d opened the door. He looked down, bloody footprints on the deck were no challenge for his cleaning solution. Even if a forensic team came out with their blood-detecting sprays and special eye goggles, they would not see any traces of blood where he cleaned.

Thank goodness it was after midnight. No traffic on this quaint residential street and no neighbors were awake to witness anything. At least there were no lights on to indicate anyone was peeking out their windows.

Jeremy finished by tucking his cleaning rag in a large Ziplock and stuffed it in his tote. He glanced through the storm door into the living room at Poppy. She stirred. He had just enough time— He ran to his car and tossed the tote in a hidden compartment he had built, behind the spare tire in his trunk, then rushed to Poppy’s door. She awakened slowly, turning her head as if determining where she was. He gingerly stepped across her threshold, knowing his entrance would frighten her.

“Poppy?” He spoke softly, barely above a whisper. His father had taught him to do this. He had said the slightest sounds seemed amplified when a shifter first woke from the change and Jeremy had always heeded that knowledge. “It’s Jeremy Black. I’m here to check on Chelany.” He paused at the door, not wanting to rush her. “You’re alright, Poppy.”

She sat up, startled despite his soft voice and gentle approach. Her head swiveled, looking around frantically.

“The girls are still outside.” Jeremy continued in a soothing, quiet voice. “They are camping in your treehouse. Listen to the monitor. That’s Chelany snoring.” He chuckled softly. A soft rhythmic snore vibrated across the receiver baby monitor.

Her wide, feral eyes met his, understanding slowly settling into her brain. A quiver of a smile twitched at the corner of her mouth. But then she noticed the crimson splatters on her chest, then her hands, and arms. Her face drew into a hideous scowl. “What? Oh God! What happened?”

Jeremy rushed to her. He knelt before the recliner and gently touched her arm. “Poppy, there’s been an accident.”

“What ... kind of an accident?” The fear flared in her eyes. “The girls?”

Jeremy shook his head. “No. They are fine!”

Poppy glanced at the recliner beside hers. “Where’s Hank?”

Jeremy dropped his chin to his chest and swallowed. Steeling himself for this moment. He lifted his face. “He’s dead.”

“Oh, God!” Poppy yanked her arm away from Jeremy’s touch and leapt to her feet. But she didn’t seem to know where to go. She kept turning in a circle, looking at the blood on her own body. “Am I bleeding?”

“No. Poppy. You’re not bleeding.” He stayed back a few feet to give her space but was poised to do whatever she needed. The main thing was to keep her from going out front to see Hank’s body.

“Then ... who’s ... blood—” Her eyes widened, and her mouth dropped open with a huge gasp. “Is this ... Hank’s blood?”

Her chin trembled and tears pooled in her eyes.

Jeremy closed the gap between them, just in case. “Yes.”

He reached out for her as her knees buckled, and she collapsed into his embrace.