Shifter Variance (The Outlier Prophecies Book 5) Read online

  Becker jams his phone into his pocket. “The Turmoil pack won’t let Dalia go. They’re holding her and requested a challenge. If I don’t go they’ll keep her.”

  “But she’s in danger.”

  “That isn’t an issue to them. If they suspect I’m the source of danger, then I need to keep away. They suspect me of breaking an agreement.” His gaze lingers on my towel-wrapped body and he blows out a long rush of air from his nose. “When I told them I’d take Dalia for a short time, I did it when I thought there was no chance for us. I didn’t break it, I’ve obliterated it.”

  “As pack, right? You said you’d take her as pack.”

  Becker doesn’t answer. He doesn’t even look at me.

  Okay, never mind. I didn’t want to delve into that little tidbit of drama. Becker knew Dalia could be his sister from the beginning and was too hung up on that to consider her a serious romantic interest. Right?

  I decide to bring this conversation back to the immediate topic. “Did you tell them someone is after them? Not just Dalia?” I toss the towel and go for one of Becker’s shirts. His sweat pants are twice my waist size, but I fold and roll them up to make them fit. “We are going to my house so I can get proper clothes.”

  Becker leaves the room and goes to the living room, opening the front door.

  I stumble after him. “Hey, you can’t leave me here. I’m going with you.”

  I’m confused to see Lipski on Becker’s porch. Becker must have heard him coming. Some day I vow to get used to living with a sensory sensitive.

  Hank holds out a cake box to Ian. “This is probably shitty timing, except I can’t keep this secret from you much longer. I heard you guys discussing something about Dalia as I drove up, but…” He shoves the cake in Ian’s direction. “Congratulations, you have a sister.”

  Hank opens the box and Ian glances down at all the pink frosting inside. Then Ian backs up from the door, marches into his room, and slams the door shut.

  Hank sets the cake on the counter and shoots me a worried look. “Okay, we need to work on his reaction. He can’t act like a hormonal teenager when he tells her.”

  I tip the cake box lid open and stare at the baby pink frosting and curly congratulations in a shade of hot pink.

  Hank leans over my shoulder. “Angela went a little crazy on all the pink, but you get the idea.”

  I carefully close the lid. “You know this means Becker is one of the experiments.”

  A few decades ago, two scientists used frozen sperm from the last known shifting werewolf and inseminated dozens, possibly hundreds of nearly full-blooded female werewolves in the hopes of waking up the shifting gene in the now latent wolf population. The experiment was not only a failure, it produced an unknown number of wolves that were labeled as emotionally unstable and unable to integrate into wolf society due to the stigma. Dalia had kept her background a secret from her pack. Becker had been adopted and didn’t know his genetic background beyond the small non-specific details his mother provided his adoptive parents.

  Now we had no room for maybes and benefit of the doubt. Ian’s difficulty regulating himself even in the presence of stable pack had a diagnosable reason behind it. And not one that came with a treatment plan that wouldn’t lead to potentially losing his job or to being invited into werewolf society in the future.

  Hank sighs. “Yeah. We’ll deal with that, Katie Cupcake. Ian is going to need a lot of support.” His rough palm lands on my back. My throat tightens.

  2

  Becker’s sibling cake becomes my breakfast, because it’s here in front of me, and Ali isn’t here to stop me.

  I shove in another bite.

  Becker is an experiment.

  There are no known researched, I stress researched, variables that prove beyond a doubt that this means Becker will go feral. I thought I’d prepared for this development. Ian had explained it to me early on in our pre-relationship, soon after we began the pack agreement. He’d wanted to be as open as possible about what it might mean, he’d wanted to prevent any problems between us. There had been issues in his previous pack—possibly related to his emotional and behavioral quirks. He hadn’t known it at the time, but since then he’d gathered information on the wolves who’d been essentially test tube babies, created in a lab for a specific purpose and then discarded when they didn’t turn out as planned.

  In the back of my mind, I’d hoped and believed that Becker couldn’t be one of them. He’s kind. He’s amazing. He’s not a burden to society. He’s a police officer who’d dedicated his life to doing the right thing. He’s an active positive contributor to our community. Sure, he has issues, but he tries. He makes a huge effort to not let his werewolf habits turn adverse.

  I’d told him once that just because he might be an experiment didn’t mean that the experiments were bad. They wouldn’t necessarily turn and become terrible people. I suppose I didn’t fully believe all the things I’d told Ian to reassure him, if I’m contemplating this all now. And that made me an awful, awful person.

  Cake is delicious.

  Three more forkfuls.

  I’m stress eating. Definitely, definitely stress eating.

  Hank riffles through Becker’s fridge and exclaims, “Ha!” when he discovers an unopened tea behind a stack of vegetables. He motions for me to follow him into one of the empty guest rooms. We walk past one of the two guest rooms, which is closed off. The door is shut. I wonder if that’s where Dalia’s been sleeping. I’m suddenly curious and also disgusted that I would consider snooping in there to learn more about Becker’s now-sister.

  I sit on the edge of the mattress in one of the guest rooms. No sheets, no pictures hanging on the wall. The rooms were spacious enough—more than enough room to be considered a cozy studio. The whole house, maybe around two-thousand-plus square feet, sat on a fairly nice-sized lot in a high-end neighborhood. When the house was filled with Becker’s pack they used the guest rooms as places for anyone in the pack to get away if they needed time alone. Otherwise everyone shared the two large king beds pushed together in Becker’s room. Neither guest room looked like it ever got a lot of play. Dust had settled into corners, along the trim, and on the walk-in closet shelves from unuse. An errant worried thought rolls through my brain unwelcome—does Dalia sleep in Becker’s bed when he’s not there? That would make the most sense.

  Shit. I don’t want to think about these details.

  Hank closes the door to the room. “You okay?” His voice dips into the low rumble and sandpaper quality that he uses to block out Ian. Hank has some super selective vocal cords at a frequency that Becker can’t hear.

  I nod. Everything is fine here. I take a deep breath and two more bites of breakfast cake. The pink frosting should count as dairy. Dairy has protein. Sure it has fat, but so does bacon.

  And sugar? Fruit has sugar and it’s healthy. This cake is healthy. Socrates would be proud of my square of reasoning.

  Hank eases on the bed next to me. “Cause you seem like you’re freaking out.”

  I shake my head. No sir. No freaking here.

  It’s just that the last time someone had a prediction I thought I could change because I was fateless, I killed them. My parents didn’t make out well with my bet against the fates. And then again several months ago with a weather oracle named Jack Roberts? He’d gotten a high probability prediction that he would be murdered and I interfered. I nearly got him killed, too. The odds were not stacking in my favor to change Becker’s destiny that he would go feral. And now that we knew for certain he had the genetic makeup to make it more likely? It’s too much. Too many variables. Most of those variables are pointing in the wrong direction. We need to go in a different direction to reverse his prediction. Right now my gut says we’re headed straight for an inevitable feral werewolf.

  “Look”—Hank’s chest puffs up, his arm rests on my shoulder, causing me to tip into his warm, solid body—“Ian reacted a lot better than he would have even two months ago. That
’s progress. As far as I’m concerned this is a mild hiccup. We didn’t learn anything we didn’t already suspect for years.”

  I blow out a shaky breath. “You’re right. Yeah, this is…” I inspect my nearly empty cake bowl. Who let me eat all this? I shake it off. What was I saying?

  “Naturally you’re going to want to think of how this will change things. Add it to your computed formula. And it doesn’t. You said that to Ian before and it really reassured him. He needs everyone around him to be strong.”

  Yes. Strong. I set the cake aside, but I have one bite left so I scoop it up and mash it between my cheeks. That’s my last weak moment. Right there. Now it’s time to put my game face on.

  “We clear?” Hank levels me with a look.

  “Yes. Absolutely.” I hand him my empty bowl. “Excuse me.” And march out of the room.

  Staring at Ian’s closed door, I give myself a small pep talk. Come on, Kate, you can do it. Lipski is right. This doesn’t change anything for me. I knew the risks going in. I’m a master at calculating risk. The odds depend on how we play the variables.

  I cut a slice of cake and arrange it on a plate with a clean fork. Balancing the plate in one hand, I knock on the door. No answer. I peek over my shoulder at Hank. He makes a motion with his hands to turn the knob and go ahead. So I do.

  Gods, if Hank made stabby-stabby motions with his hands I probably would have chopped the door down with an ax. My stomach knots and my skin vibrates—most likely from the unexpected morning sugar rush.

  Becker sits on the edge of his bed, his head low and his elbows on his legs with his hands dangling in-between his knees. His hat blocks most of his face. I slide the cake into his lap, holding it there so it doesn’t flop over.

  I lay my head on his shoulder. “Hey. The cake makes a pretty good breakfast.” I wait a beat and scrunch up my nose. “Okay, it’s actually a shitty breakfast and you owe me some eggs.”

  He takes the bowl. “Hale, you’re dating a police officer that is a werewolf, so it’s going to be a long future of plans changing.” He scoops a bite onto his fork and stares at it, then out of the corner of his eye he analyzes me as if I might protest that “long future” bit.

  “Becker, I’m an actuary. I’ve already calculated those odds and I’d rather take that chance with you than any other werewolf cop in Angel’s Peak.” And even though I’ve said the words in my mind a number of times, saying it out loud I realize how much I actually believe them.

  A slight grin flickers on his lips. “Yeah? Is that so?” He sniffs the cake. He doesn’t mention that he’s the only werewolf cop. That part of the joke probably doesn’t need to be explained. “Kate—”

  “Don’t say it. Don’t you dare say it. You’ve given me too many outs. If you keep saying that I can walk away, change my mind, and go have Hank fetch the tranquilizer gun—then I’m going to think the problem isn’t me being too scared to keep going, but that you don’t want to.”

  He scoots away from me so he can twist and face me directly. “Wait, I—”

  “No. No waiting.” I jump up from the bed and point my finger at him. “No thinking, no explaining why you and me being separated is better for me. It’s not what’s best for both of us and we have to think like a team. We’re a team. We’re not individuals. Not any more.”

  His gaze drops to the cake, then back at me. “Are you done?”

  I cross my arms, eyeing him suspiciously. “Yeah.”

  “I was going to say that I should cut back on processed sugar.” He holds the bowl to me. “Considering…” He shrugs.

  I take it. “Oh.”

  “But, um, it’s nice to know that other stuff.” His fingers play with the worn spots in his jeans. He watches me for a minute and then stands. “I have a stash of some sort of oatmeal-nut-blueberry-health bar thing of Ali’s. But I will make good on those eggs I owe you.” He puts his hand on the door, but he doesn’t open it. His head goes down and his chest expands and contracts slowly.

  I put my arm around his waist, pulling him until he faces me. “You’re freaked out, okay. I get it. It’s okay to be afraid of what this means. You can tell me you’re unsure and scared. Yeah, it doesn’t change our situation, but it’s a hell of a hit to have this news confirmed. Especially since we never expected it to become a known factor. It was supposed to be something we always wondered, right?”

  He nods.

  “But you have a sister. Becker, a sister. I have five brothers and let me tell you that having a sister is a really cool thing. Wait, who’s older?”

  “She is. By a month and one week.”

  “You have an older sister!” I say it with a little hop up and down to add excitement. And then I realize something and stop hopping. “Hold up, when is your birthday?”

  His face goes slightly pink. “It’s uh, next Friday.” He clears his throat. “I’ve been meaning to tell you something about that—” Becker’s phone starts ringing again. He glances at the screen. “Shit. I should take this.”

  I scoot out of his way so he can answer.

  “Ian Becker.” His eyes narrow and glare at the wall behind me for a few minutes, then he hangs up.

  “You didn’t talk much.” I shift my weight from one foot to the other.

  “It’s not polite to ask questions or respond. I’m not my pack’s leader and I’m not officially lone to them.”

  “How is that? Because you’re with me? I thought they didn’t know about us?” My throat tightens. I have no idea what kinds of issues will arise for Ian when they find out he not only ignored their agreement, but he shacked up with a human.

  “They don’t.” Becker grabs his wallet and keys and shoves them into his pockets. “Dalia wouldn’t tell them, but they’ll know she’s keeping something from them. Her plan was to steer clear of the pack while she would gather her things. Something must have happened. And they don’t see me as lone, because a lone wolf has enough other DNA to go without pack. I don’t fall into that category. To them I’m a dangerous liability to be associated with.”

  “Then what did they tell you?”

  “It was a follow up on the meeting place. They won’t bring Dalia to Angel’s Peak to discuss if I can see her privately. We’re set to meet outside of the city on public forest land. They want to talk in person so they can put me through an…assessment of sorts.”

  He hooks his thumb into his pocket and stares at the space between us, as if his thoughts are wandering. Then he catches himself, seeming to notice the awkward pause that has passed between us. “We need to go if you want to stop by your apartment.”

  I open the door to his room and lead the way. Lipski leans against the counter. At his fingertips is a stack of blueberry walnut oatcakes from the freezer, a couple of canteens for drinks, and an innocent expression on his face.

  Becker shakes his head. “You’re not going.”

  “Nope. I’m going. Who else is going to coach you through this? Don’t tell me you were going to make me babysit Hale.” He looks from my shocked suspicious expression as I glare at Becker and then to Becker’s lowered head. “Oh, you were going to throw her the bait and switch. Make her think you were taking her and then at the last minute ditch her. Oh”—he raps his knuckles on the counter—“this is good.” He puts all his weight on his elbows and laces his fingers together, watching us as if we’re his favorite reality TV show.

  I punch Becker’s arm. “Tell him that’s not what you had planned. Tell him you wouldn’t think of keeping me off this case.”

  He takes a careful step away from me; his hand slices between us. “It’s not a case, Kate. It’s a delicate situation that could turn hostile.”

  “Oh. My. Gods. You had no intention of letting me in on this. This is directly related to Wyrd and New Karma. That is my case. Mine. And do not say anything about my suspension. That is just a technicality at this point.”

  Lipski straightens. “Whoa, hang on. This is related?”

  “Later, Hank.” Ian b
arks out the command. “When does Ali get off her shift?”

  “She just started. It will be at least a few hours unless she’s working a full day. In which case it will be even longer.”

  Lipski crosses his arms and shakes his head. “Oh Beck, Beck. This is not how you start a relationship. You are going to require so much training. Don’t worry, Papa is here for you.”

  We both ignore Hank.

  Ian presses his thumb to the bridge of his nose. “We can go by your place for clothes and then I’ll drop you off at her work.”

  “No. That’s an awful idea. She’ll be distracted. I’ll be bored. There is a high probability of shenanigans. I thought you didn’t believe Ali was a good option for protection.”

  “She’ll keep you safe. She’s the best option if Hank goes with me.”

  “Hank gets to go now and not me?”

  “I need him.”

  “What about me? If nothing else to keep your pack close in case you need it.” I can’t believe I’m playing the pack card already.

  “No. You can’t.” He nearly yells it.

  “I don’t understand why I can’t go! You once told me you never wanted to hold me back. You are holding me back right now. I need to know what the Turmoil pack has to do with Wyrd and New Karma. It’s something, and don’t tell me you think it’s nothing.”

  “You can’t go because…” He grinds out each word between his teeth and flashes a look at Hank as if he’s noticed him for the first time. Becker turns beat read.

  Lipski sighs. “You can’t go because you had sex with him, Katie. They will smell you on him and vice versa.”

  I cross my arms and keep my head high. I’m prepared to go as low as I can to get my way. “Then he can just say he’s sleeping with us both.”

  Lipski’s gaze travels between us. Becker keeps his eyes trained on the tips of his shoes. His jaw is tight and his eyes squeeze shut. I know he hates my suggestion by the way he shivered as I said it. I straighten, hands on hips. I won’t budge. They can’t make me back down from this.