A. Arthur - Shifter's Claim

If the truth be told, her entire life had been do or die. Born the fourth in a succession of unplanned children to Karen Drake, one of Prince George’s County’s poster children for what not to do when you grew up, Priya had been working toward a better life for what seemed like forever. While her two sisters had followed in their mother’s footsteps, dropping out of school and having babies faster than they could figure out names for them, her brother, Malik, the oldest of the Drake siblings, had been suffering from drug addiction for as long as Priya could remember. It seemed odd and slightly pitiful that as the youngest child who had worked drive-thru at Burger King to pay her way through college, she was the most responsible of the Drakes, the one everyone turned to when they were in trouble.

Reaching for the cordless phone that sat on the corner of her desk, she answered, “Hello?”

“Hey, baby,” her mother replied.

“Good morning, Mama,” she answered, closing her eyes and dreading what might come next. “What’s going on?”

That was the first question because Karen never called just to say hello.

“I was just calling because I need a few things from the store. My prescriptions.” She paused, coughed like she might stop breathing altogether in the next minute, and then began again. “I need my prescriptions. Malik was supposed to get everything for me but I don’t know where he is. Haven’t seen him in days.”

Priya closed her eyes. No, she wouldn’t have seen him in days. In fact, it had been more like weeks and Priya knew why.

“Just tell me what you need, Mama. I’ll go to the store and bring everything over.”

Karen gave her the list and Priya shut down her computer, going into her room to get dressed.

She was just about to head out the door when she saw the envelope that had been taped to it. She stopped, only able to stare at it for endless moments. When she figured that was stupid and beyond unproductive she took a couple of steps, reached out, and snatched it from the door. Willing her fingers not to shake she opened it and read. It was an address and a time and the words: The clock is ticking.

Angry and helpless to do anything about it, Priya was about to ball up the note and the envelope but stopped because there was something else inside. The black napkin from the bar last night where she’d had the drinks with Perry.

She looked around the apartment, saw everything was where she’d left it the day before and yet there was something different. She hadn’t noticed anything when she’d come in last night, possibly because she’d been so wound up after being with Perry that she’d gone straight to bed. They would have had to come in after that or maybe just before she arrived home. At any rate, this confirmed someone was following her, just as she’d thought that night in the alley.

She had just enough time to deliver her mother’s groceries and medications before she had to be downtown, before she had to approach Roman Reynolds.

“I thought you were working on the reporter. You said she didn’t see anything.” Dominick Delgado, Rome’s Lead Enforcer’s voice echoed throughout the spacious corner office of Reynolds and Delgado, LLC.

Nick, in addition to being Rome’s partner in the law firm, handled all of the training for the Assembly. For almost eight years now Eli and Ezra Preston had been Lead Guards under Nick’s immediate command, personally guarding Nick and Rome while doing an exceptional job of training the new recruits.

At this late-morning meeting, Ezra leaned forward, planting his elbows on the long conference room table on the far side of Rome’s office. They’d all checked out of the Willard early this morning, after receiving the text from Rome to do so and to meet here. This weekend was supposed to be about figuring out a strategy against the rogues and solidifying their relationship with the nation’s top leader. Now, the focus had turned to something they’d all thought was already handled.

“I did a full report and e-mailed it to all the FLs. The threat was classified as minimal since she doesn’t even have a byline at the Post. Her stories are mostly editorials on things like what’s the best coffeemaker to buy in the dwindling economy. She rents a small apartment on Georgia Avenue and she’s up to her neck in defaulted student loans,” Ezra reported.

On one side of the table sat Rome, Nick, and Xavier, three of the highest ranking Assembly officials who often stuck together even outside of shifter business. Jace Maybon, the Pacific FL, and Cole Linden, the Central FL, accompanied Bas on the opposite side. The Lead Guards, Eli and Ezra sat at the two ends of the table.

“I saw the report,” Rome added. “Since we hadn’t seen anything in the paper immediately following the last killings I figured Ezra was right and she wasn’t a threat.”

“And now she’s returned,” Bas stated, sitting back in his chair.

“What does she know?” Nick asked in his usual agitated tone. This was the highly volatile leader that had guards and other shifters, as well as probably a good amount of humans he’d come in contact with deathly afraid of him.

Bas shrugged. “She says she has a source who saw a man whose face began to look like a cat’s in an alley behind Athena’s. The source also stated you were there.”

With the mention of Athena’s and Bas’s obvious nod in his direction, all eyes went to Xavier, better known to the shifters as X. The muscled arms of this shifter who was built more like a WWF wrestler, were what everyone saw first. The fact that he was a computer genius who used to work for the FBI was secondary, and often unbelievable. X had been the one hanging out at Athena’s. He’d also been accused of killing one of the strippers there who he’d been in contact with. And his companheiro, Caprise, had also danced there.

“There’s no source, Drake was there in the alley and the next day she wrote a story about the raid on Athena’s,” X said definitively. “We were dealing with the whole Rolando situation. He was the one who was shifting when Nivea dragged the reporter and the photographer out of the alley,” he finished.

Rome squeezed the bridge of his nose. Nick cursed. And Bas shook his head, rubbing a hand casually over his jaw before replying. “It was dark in the alley. She’d just come out of a nightclub where there’s known drug activity. As long as there’s no one to corroborate the story we’re fine,” he told them in the nonchalant manner he was known for.

That was Bas’s way, he was the cool-under-pressure FL, the relaxed and always composed owner who didn’t take any crap from anybody but rarely had to get violent. He worked hard as hell to keep that persona as his general profile, preferring that over being considered the vain and superficial one in leadership. A low-level reporter—not even as hot as Priya Drake—could not rattle him because the alternative wasn’t safe for anyone.

“So you denied everything she said?” X asked.

“You know he did,” Jace added with a smirk. “And he did it with that smooth-ass smile of his. She probably couldn’t remember what the hell he’d said because she was transfixed by his pretty-boy looks.”

Bas smoothed down his low-cut mustache, shaking his head. “You have your way of dealing with problems, and I have mine. But I didn’t give her any additional information, if that’s what you’re really asking.”

“We’re asking if your smoother-than-silk, lover-of-the-century plan is going to keep this female’s mouth closed?” Nick inquired.

Bas didn’t like the way X and Nick were looking at him, didn’t like the implications that were floating around this room, but he didn’t plan to address them either, not unless absolutely necessary. His hand moved to glide slowly down the length of his light blue Ferragamo tie. “She won’t tell a soul what she saw until she’s absolutely sure,” he said with confidence. “And if she does, I’ll fix it so that nobody believes a word she says.”