All the King's Men (The Turning Series Book 1) Read online

  Frost clicked his tongue. “Seriously sweetie, longer than five minutes. I mean it.”

  “Yeah, yeah.”

  “Olivia is Morgan’s acting right-hand now. She’s a chameleon. A shifter, or changer, or whatever they’re classifying it now since she’s not your average shapeshifter. Her parents were both powered, so naturally Walter wants to keep her in holding in the R&D bay when she’s not on supply or rescue runs.”

  Danika shuddered. “She willingly lets that creep poke and prod at her?” Walter was the epitome of mad scientist; an old man with wrinkled skin and a shriveled face. His sunken in eyes further emphasized the stereotype of madness. His breath smelled like stale garbage, probably due in part to his dentures that were rarely cleaned.

  “Yep. He’s been studying her pretty close too, maybe get a little more science behind the cause of… whatever happened to us.”

  Walter was a pioneer of the scientific studying of the Turning. There wasn’t much to the explanation behind their transformation other than a genetic shift that trickled in the last couple of generations, and it wasn’t until recently they’d seen it happen more frequently. There wasn’t a pattern to it either; it had been occurring in spurts around the world, and those who were born with the gene, once the trait was in bloom, were placed into the Powered registry. Most of it was developed by that pervy old man working with Morgan.

  “Better her than me, I guess.” Danika commiserated. “Okay so what did Tattoos find out?”

  A couple of keystrokes later, Frost had what she wanted to see. “The cat’s been spotted on some of our tracking through town. Caught it on the cams downtown and even caught…this.” Frost showed her footage on his monitor.

  Danika gasped. The video showed the cat shapeshifting into a woman about her height, with light brown skin and long black hair. Her facial features were still quite feline, but not so much that she wasn’t able to blend into the city. It wasn’t close enough to generate an image of anyone she recognized, but with Frost’s programs, they had a shot of enhancing it to a decent level for facial recognition.

  “I guess for now, keep an eye out for her on the cams.”

  “Yes ma’am.” He saluted.

  “Don’t do that.”

  “Do what?” Frost raised his eyebrow, and he pointed at her with narrowed eyes. “You know, it must run in the family. You’re starting to sound a lot like—”

  Danika reached up and wrapped her hand around Frost’s slender finger. “Say it and I promise you, it’s goodbye to your morning lattes and delicious pastries.” He was going to say that she sounded like Morgan, because he’d said it so many times that she was just supposed to put up with that inevitable fact that she was a lot like her uncle. He did raise her after her parents passed, so it was to be expected. She just didn’t want to admit it to anyone. Especially not Frost.

  He pursed his lips, tilting his head to look at her, unimpressed. “Kind of like today?”

  “So? Ok, sue me. I’ll double my contribution tomorrow.”

  “I expect no less.” Frost winked as he pulled his hand from her grasp. “All I’m saying is, give us a chance. Give Morgan a chance, and hell, give this Charlie guy a chance, too. Not just like that, either. He seems like a nice guy. And if Morgan says he needs him, I gotta agree. I mean considering what he can do…”

  “You know his powers?”

  Frost showed all his perfect white teeth in a big, arrogant smile. “You don’t? Miss We had it out in my living room?”

  “Sass, Frost. Less of it.” Danika snapped her fingers to get him back on track.

  Frost clicked back into serious mode. “Well of course, I know what he can do. It’s—”

  “Ahem.” A voice beckoned from the door upstairs, leading into Morgan’s office. Her uncle was standing at the railing, peering down at them. The light shining over him from behind cast a silhouette that looked a lot more menacing than he really was. He dusted off his sleeve. “Danika, a word?”

  “To be continued.” Frost had turned to attention and leaned sideways to utter that quietly.

  She grumbled something about being interrupted at the worst possible time. “See you later Snowman.”

  “Bye, Popeye.”

  Popeye. Another nickname she’d procured from Frost’s big bag of things to call her. She’d been called worse. Degrading things surrounding her weight when she was younger, Asian slurs, freak, crazy, etc. Since Frost was her friend, she’d considered his creations endearing, preferring those puns to the insults. Yet, she still refused to let any name stick around to be her “hero” name. Danika was not a hero. Her use of Gale strength to punch through things and her abundant cursing merited the use of the spinach-eating, strong-armed sailor man, so she let it slide.

  Danika climbed the steel steps and followed Morgan into his office. Charlie was already seated on the couch in the far corner. Morgan held out his hand for Danika to take a seat beside their guest, but she decided to take the comfy armchair chair across the way instead of cozying up to the newbie on the rather small loveseat.

  Morgan cleared his throat before speaking. “I’m not sure if Frost let you know…”

  “He did. You think that forming another strike team is the answer? You want to paint a big fat target on HQ now? Because that’s what you’re about to do.” She packed the smokes, smacking the packaging against the butt of her palm.

  Morgan sighed. “Please refrain, Dani. This is a non-smoking area.”

  “Non-smoking unless it’s you.” She grumbled, grumpily sliding the cigs back into her pocket.

  “Hm?” Morgan turned.

  “Nothing.” She looked between her uncle and where Charlie was sitting, with his hands clasped in his lap. “Aldo’s Ward has been getting along just fine and HQ’s functioning with the Alliance work, even though it’s been kind of quiet…So quiet, in fact, we’ve been rendered to capturing purse-nabbers or amateur shop robbers, and…well, him.”

  “We? You’re talking like a happy member of the Alliance.” Morgan tilted his head.

  She shrugged. “I wouldn’t say happy, but I’m part of this op, at the very least. I brought him in, this cat’s connected to him somehow, so I’m in it for this. That’s it. Once we stop her, I’m done.”

  “Very well.” Morgan looked rather defeated as he shook his head. “I can’t stop you.”

  Damn right, she thought.

  “Frost’s working on facial rec right now. Other than that, I brought back your prized lawyer buddy. So, am I free to go?”

  “Always.” Morgan simpered, waving his hand at the door, not in dismissal but to emphasize in gesture she was not stuck here by any means. He knew he couldn’t keep her here if he tried. “But I’d like you to please keep your eyes peeled for any more leads.”

  “Sure, but you know I have work to do.”

  “I know.” Morgan said, as if to humor her. He knew Danika busied herself with a lot of civilian tasks and mundane life while she was away, but as he had stated before, he couldn’t stop her.

  “Oh, and Charlie?”

  Charlie looked up from where he was seated, as he watched her walk away. “Yes?”

  “Thanks for breakfast.” She smiled, as she walked away.

  You Again

  Two days passed, and despite having to move more carefully due to soreness, life had somewhat returned to normal. Normal for Danika meant heading back into work at DZ’s Market (pronounced Dizzy’s) on the corner, a couple of blocks from her place. It was on what everyone called The Borderline, a shopping strip that crossed over into what she referred to as their friendly neighborhood ghetto. She had a decent amount in her savings and had been living comfortably with the help of her uncle, but Danika decided to help the old man, Darren, keep his place safe from the street gangs that liked to come through and shake the place down. Plus, he paid her in her beloved whiskey sometimes, so she didn’t mind playing neighborhood watch once in a while.

  “Anything else?”

  The old
man chuckled and licked his lips. “Unless you’re selling my stuff with a side of you, doll…”

  “Costs extra, Harold. And I don’t think you have the budget for that.” She typed in his total and took the crinkled bills from his wrinkled, leathery hand.

  Harold shrugged and laughed as he took his change. “Take care of yourself, kid.”

  “Always.” Danika waved at the dirty old man as he took his brown-bagged beverage. “Have a good one.”

  When the clock struck six, she rejoiced. Danika prepared leave, grabbing her coat from the chair behind the counter. She logged out of her register and pulled her keys. “Hey Ricky.”

  “Hey D. Heading out?” Ricky’s voice cracked, and his pale face flushed as red as the hair on his head. She wasn’t sure why Darren hired a waif of a twenty-two-year-old who sounded pre-pubescent to run the night shift at a liquor store, but his answer was always that college kids needed the income. It was true, and the store was at least a block or so from her house so she’d come back if she noticed he was in trouble.

  Bless his heart. Weirdo.

  “Yep. All yours.”

  “Okay. You’re free to fly.” he wiggled his fingers at her.

  She laughed. Ricky always said that very thing and gestured with wings of some sort before she took off. When they first met, he saw the wings on an old necklace she wore to this day, and it became her thing. Danika slipped her arms into her jacket and waved before heading out. “Have a good one.”

  As she left the building, she made a left and kept on the sidewalk that gave her a great view of King’s Grand Regal Hotel. It was a gorgeous tower, illuminated by golden spotlights surrounding it. The hotel not only served as a haven for folks to stay, but also provided space for business meetings, and was a venue for local events. It also housed Alton King himself, easily the richest man in the city. The upper floors were office spaces and at the very top was his penthouse. While she had never been inside, she’d seen the photographs taken by the news outlets “lucky” enough to gain an audience with him. The councilman was rarely seen in the streets among the Augustan peasants, and lots of chatter went on about how he remained in his tower with his queen, rolling in his piles of gold as they laughed at the beggar filth below.

  The weekend rush was already creeping into Hunter’s Corner Bar when Danika walked up. She’d come stag tonight, though that was no different than any other night. Her short-list of potential invitees had consisted of Morgan (but no), Charlie, but he was probably busy getting caught up with work he’d missed, and of course Frost was exhausted from the incessant errand-running for Morgan. After her shift at DZ’s she thought maybe she’d just head home and drink alone in her underwear, but the change of scene would be nice, even if she had to keep her pants on.

  Danika sat at the bar for a little over an hour, hoping that maybe she could end the night on a high note. Maybe she’d chat up a cute loner if he was unlucky enough to take the open seat beside her. Promiscuity wasn’t usually her thing, but it didn’t mean she couldn’t play the game. And something else out of character for tonight was the fact that she’d been nursing the same pint of her favorite homebrew lager since she sat down.

  Sammy, the owner, was tending tonight. He was an old family friend. His salt and pepper hair was neatly groomed, which was more than she could say about his full beard. Sam was old military, which was why he and Morgan got along so well. Signs of his old life showed in his physique: six-foot something, bulging biceps and a chest you could wash your clothes on was enough to make the unsavory batch of women who crawled in here drool until pure dehydration. Clean cut hair but an unshaven stubble of salt and pepper on that ruggedly handsome face meant looks could kill. While that was usually the type Danika would say she’d ‘climb like a tree’, Sammy was a friend, and was too much like her dad and uncle to find attractive. Still, he was one of the few people in town aware of her family secrets and the burden that came with them. Since the Turning, many radical groups and wannabe vigilantes had been created here and there; he was sure to deflect anyone who tried to shoot at the target on her back.

  With an old musty rag—that she could smell from where she sat—the older man wiped down the countertop and pulled a pint glass from the racks for the customer across the way. “You doin’ alright, sweetheart?”

  Danika shook her head. “Long day. Just trying to think through some things.”

  Sam laughed, “Don’t go thinking too hard now.”

  “Never.” She mock-glared at him, but it switched to a smile in a blink. Thinking was always such a necessary evil, and Danika got so lost into it sometimes that she’d make herself sick.

  “Let me know when you’re ready. Next one’s on me.” He winked at her before filling the order and sliding it over to the customer.

  “Thanks, Sam.” Danika raised her half-empty glass to the him. Her finger idly tapped on the side of her pint glass as she started to zone out, staring at the bottles along the top shelf behind the bar. She wasn’t watching anything. She was just…staring.

  There was enough customer chatter to drown out Sammy’s voice as he strolled away, tending to others down the line, and it eventually faded off into the music that livened up the place when someone fed the jukebox.

  “You seem pretty lonely over here on the end, just you and your beer…” A woman’s voice cut the air, a gentle caress compared to the usually brash, over-confident load of testosterone that was usually dumped on her. “Can I join you?”

  Danika set her pint down and looked toward the stranger with eyes as cold as steel. “It’s a free country.”

  The woman was beautiful, there was no doubt about that. Gorgeous face, angles and curves, dimples in the right place, nice body in a tight little black dress. So, why was she chatting up Danika instead of trying to charm some gent with the same sort of idle chit-chat? Danika took another big gulp out of her pint, hoping to take Sammy up on that free refill. She gave one more glance toward the door before returning her eyes to her phone on the bar. It was lame to think that she’d get a message or call since she didn’t communicate much with anyone in the first place, so she slid the mobile device into her pocket and stared at the coaster with the Hunter’s Corner logo printed on the faded cardboard. She paid no mind to her company.

  In her peripheral vision, the stranger gave a smile, one that was meant to be welcoming but it was mysterious and mischievous more than anything. There was a kindness in her eyes, matching the turn of her quirked lips. She’d polished off her own pint and set it on the counter before waving down Sammy for another.

  “Hm… Seems like your heart’s near broken.” The stranger observed, leaning her elbow on the counter. “What’ll it be then? Boy troubles? Office drama?”

  “You a traveling psychic or something, because I don’t carry change.”

  “No-no… nothing like that.” The woman grinned.

  “Oh, so you’re just nosy?” At first, Danika was just offended that this woman was imposing on her solo-space, trying to pry for information. She didn’t think her personal matters were any of this woman’s business. However, the woman did ask nicely, engaged in some barroom chit-chat, and showed no signs of backing down. Frost called it extroversion, she called it people needing to mind their own damn business. Closing her eyes, Danika shrugged and gave in. “It’s just… memories.” she said in a low, quit-bothering-me sort of tone, and she reverted into a closed off position on her barstool. She hadn’t completely turned away, or asked the girl to leave, but she hoped she would take a damn hint.

  “I see. Tabitha, by the way.”

  “Good for you.” Danika looked at the door again. She had a sliver of wishing and hoping that he would just walk right through the door and she’d see him again. Well-dressed, of course. He’d smell like the woods, his hair groomed perfectly, his sharp brow, his bright eyes, the angles of his cheeks, nose, jaw, chin… God, she missed all of that. She defaulted to fidgeting just then too, right hand over left, searching for something
that was gone.

  Tabitha pressed. “Are you waiting for a friend? Sorry if I’m interrupting a meeting…”

  “Sure. Something like that.” Danika looked up at the tv mounted above the bar. It was on some news channel with Councilman King’s face right on the screen. She let a cold glare settle on the older man, but her time spent brooding and glowering at his image was interrupted by the woman’s voice once more.

  “Husband? Boyfriend? Girlfriend?”

  “What? No!” Danika snapped, “No one.”

  “I’m straight, don’t worry. I was just curious.” Tabitha giggled, “Men though, am I right? They’re so territorial, but where are they when you need them? Best thing to do to keep your mind off them is to drink, party, maybe a fun little rendezvous? Have some fun. Claim yourself, don’t let them claim you.” Her verbiage seemed so proper and well-rehearsed as if she’d used those exact words before.

  Danika wasn’t having it. Once she hit the bottom of the glass, she stood up and gently pat her palm on the countertop. She tucked a couple of bills under her empty glass. “Sammy!”

  “Aw, and here I was going to ask you to dance.” Tabitha pouted, clearly disappointed, as she spun around on her bar stool to follow Danika when she passed.

  “Heading out already?” he asked, brandishing another glass for a customer.

  “Sorry man. I’ll be back soon.”

  “You better!” Sam chuckled and slung the towel over his shoulder before waving goodbye. “Take care of ya’self, kid.”

  “See ya.” Danika needed to leave without letting her temper make easy work of her newly obtained pest. Hunter’s Corner was a sacred place, a haven, and she wouldn’t do well to ruin the place. For Sammy’s sake. Given the state of mind she’d been in, fading into the night was her best option.

  The burst of cool air hit her face as she exited the bar. It was nice and warm in there for once, since Sam had the heat on to help his patrons stay comfortable. Danika pulled her jacket closed and flipped the collar up to help shield her face from the breeze. It was time to head home. As she turned the corner, the sound of thin, expensive heels hit the pavement close behind. It was Tabitha, she assumed. It had to be.