David would never have believed that living among so many strangers, and underground at that, would feel comforting. Underground! But it did, it really did. His life had changed beyond all recognition and he regretted his losses—he still missed working in medicine, but the feeling of community here at Lost Souls was a compensation he had never expected to feel.

He inserted a finger in his book and glanced around the barracks, but didn’t rise. He had a few minutes yet before he needed to dress for work, and it was relaxing just lying on his bed reading an old leather bound text instead of paging through the electronic version. He thought of the dorm room as a barracks because what else were they really—all the shifters living here—than Stephen’s personal army? They certainly acted as if the vampire was their General. Even he said how high when the vampires said jump, but it was a little different for him, or he felt it was in any case. Maybe he was fooling himself. Who knew? Everyone working for Stephen might feel as he did and just be putting on a show of subservience, but he didn’t think so.

Since the night he first changed, his abilities and senses had grown in leaps and bounds. Mist was responsible for that. The wolf was very good at sensing things around them and articulating what it all meant to him. The more David read about shifters and non-humans, the longer he was exposed to them, the better he felt he understood and was better able to cope with his duality. Mist was like a real person to him, not just another facet of his own personality. Books he had read disputed that point of view, insisting that shifter madness was literally that—a form of mania. He was no psychologist, but he knew that he wasn’t mad. Shifter craziness wasn’t a medical condition; he was certain of it. They were just different, that was all. The authors failed to realise that their own bias, their own very understandable but wrong human point of view, was skewing their understanding. It was like a marine biologist insisting he knew what a jellyfish was thinking and feeling. Not possible; they were too different.

What humans failed to understand deep down was that shifters weren’t human. Oh, they professed to know that monsters were monsters, and they certainly discriminated against anyone not like themselves with gleeful abandon, but then they about-faced and were all indignant and horrified when elves, dwarves—and yes, shifters and vamps—acted like themselves and not like decent humans! Ridiculous double standard. Either they were not human and shouldn’t be held to human standards of behaviour, or they should have the same rights as humans and then be expected to adhere to human obligations and standards. They couldn’t have it both ways.

He turned his attention back to his book. It was called Children of the Gods and attempted to explain how and why shifters were blessed with the ability to shift their shape. It went on to document each of the known types, which had been interesting, but for all of that it was the biggest load of hogwash he had ever read. It was full of mystical bullshit. The appendix was good, the types of shifter and their abilities also, but the explanation for those abilities? Laughable!

Why are you angry?

In his mind, David saw a wolf lying within the entrance of a cave—a cave that only existed in his mind. Mist’s golden eyes stared at him, and his tail beat an uneven and irritated tattoo on the ground.

“I’m not angry,” he said, trying to put his feelings into words for both of them. “I’m frustrated. It’s just people’s ignorance that makes me like this. They just don’t understand.”

Manthings have never understood us.

“By that you mean shifters,” he said but felt Mist’s rejection of that. “What then?”

Manthings do not like us; they hunt us for no reason.

“You mean wolves then. Do you have memories of a time before we were joined?”

I remember.

“What do you remember?”

Mist rolled onto his back kicking his legs playfully in the air. He smiled to see it. He could see him so clearly in his mind. The wolf was radiating happiness and his mood lightened under the influence.

I remember running across the snow. A storm is coming. The mountains call me home, but the pack is in need. I hunt to feed the pack and my cubs. I remember blood scent on the wind. There are manthings close and they have fire—fire is dangerous. They do not see me, but I see them clearly.

He saw it all as Mist spoke. The men wore furs and sat huddled around a small campfire. They were primitives. They had darkly bearded faces and carried bows not guns. To one side he could see shaggy ponies with their heads down trying to shield their eyes from the wind.

I remember the hard-footed four feet. They taste good. My belly is empty, but manthings are dangerous. I remember my mate and that my cubs hunger. I remember manthings are dangerous. I remember everything.

That was the most Mist had ever said to him at one time before, and the implication was staggering. He had instinctively always known that Mist was a real person, but this... it meant the wolf had been alive as himself in the far past and somehow was reborn in him. They were one.

We are one, Mist agreed happily, now and forever.

The implications were incredible! Many believed in reincarnation, but he never had. Sedona’s clerics did not hold that view, though the Goddess could do anything she wished of course. He believed in her, he had followed her calling after all. She was the patron of healers and he had always known he wanted to heal the sick. As a boy, he had been devastated when he learned he was devoid of magic and could not be a healer or healer cleric, but it hadn’t stopped him from finding a way to reach his goal. Medical school had been his way into Her service.

He watched the shifters getting ready for work and contemplated his changed life. He could not be a healer any more. They, the authorities, wouldn’t let him. Where did that leave him? Here at Lost Souls doing whatever jobs came up, doing what he was told? Now yes, and until he could fix Georgie and maybe Raymond as well, but after? He really didn’t know. He had no goals any longer and was adrift. Everyone here felt that way he was sure. They were all lone wolves... or shifters at least. There were a couple of people whose beasts weren’t wolf. He knew of two cats—one a tiger, and one a lynx—and there were a couple of non-humans that weren’t shifters at all. Half dwarf he thought one was. The other could only be an elf, but not full-blooded. It didn’t matter. They were like family, living as close as they did.

The pack is good the pack is all.

“Is it though? We aren’t really a pack here.” He felt Mist’s rejection of that and wondered at it.

We are Stephen’s pack. He is Alpha.

“The leader you mean.”

Mist agreed.

Well that was true at least, and he was definitely an alpha personality, but Mist meant Stephen was their pack leader. Alpha with a capital-A. A vampire leading a pack was... odd. In other cities, vampires were at the top of the food chain and ruled their territories like feudal lords, but they weren’t considered pack. They treated shifters and other non-vampires like cannon fodder, and they could make it stick, but here in LA things were different. There were a couple of reasons for that. One was that Stephen and the other powerful vamps had treaties and alliances with each other. They didn’t fight, but instead supported one another against outsiders, keeping the city to themselves and relatively peaceful. LA was a little vampire paradise. It was like an island sanctuary in a sea of chaos that was the rest of the Republic. Vampires fought and contested for territory all over the Republic, but never here. Another reason for the status quo was that the LA shifter community was very strong in terms of population. A war between vamps and shifters here would be very bloody, but the vamps would lose in the end. Elsewhere that wouldn’t be the case.

To be fair, he didn’t think Stephen would want it any other way. He was very modern and progressive in his thinking for a centuries old vampire. He liked living free of conflict, but that didn’t mean he was safe. Flare-ups of violence did still happen from time to time when outsiders tried to muscle in, and AML was always a danger of course. Stephen had to maintain a strong defence; hence the underground and the shifters living here between the surface and the vault on the deepest level where the vamps had their apartments. He had yet to see Stephen defend his territory; he had missed the last attempted takeover by a few months, but he didn’t doubt the vampire could be ruthless when the need arose.

He would win, Mist agreed. Stephen is a good hunter. He will protect us.

David frowned. Stephen did that for everyone here, but his protection wasn’t free. The latest news spoke of unpleasantness brewing in the city, and they were on the lookout for trouble. Something to do with the South Central Ghost had the vamps worked up. Not that they would tell someone like him what the problem was; he was just one of the help, one of Stephen’s many minions. He just had to do what he was told and enjoy the protections afforded him by doing so. He could leave at any time. Yeah right, and go where, do what?

He sighed and opened his book to continue his reading.

A few minutes later, Mist spoke up again. Farris comes.

David looked toward the entrance. Farris was Lawrence’s wolf, or Lawrence was Farris’ human? But he wasn’t human... person then? He shook off the strange thought and the mood it brought it on. They were one, just as Mist and he were one. They were together now and forever.

We are one, Mist agreed sounding very satisfied with the arrangement.

Lawrence entered the barracks and paused just inside, obviously looking for someone in particular. He was alpha as David himself was, but lesser. Not in body, oh no. Lawrence was something a little bit special in the size and good looks department—according to the females anyway, and even David who was a staunch fan of the female gender and hetero himself, could admit there was something there. Lawrence was a rare breed of shifter in that he actively worked hard to improve what Farris and the lycanthropy virus bestowed upon him in such abundance. David had asked him once why he put himself through so much work and pain to overcome the virus’ reluctance to allow modifications to its host. Lawrence replied just a little grimly, he now thought, that when everyone else could tear a car in half too, being average no longer cut it. Well, Lawrence was not average in body or power. He was alpha, just not the Alpha. Stephen was that, but David was also stronger than Lawrence. Much stronger, but that was all Mist not him.

We are one. There is no difference, no division. As it should be. Lawrence and Farris are also one. The sum of our Presence is greater, that is all.

That was very perceptive of the wolf. David had come to suspect that much of what went into creating an alpha was how well the two personalities merged and complimented each other. Cassie and Onida were fine people, but they were not alpha. Onida rarely spoke at all. Contrast that with the conversations he had with Mist and it was a telling difference. The wolf rarely shut up! He grinned at Mist’s rumbled warning; he was pretending anger, but David could feel his amusement. They were perfectly matched, and that made them strong.

Mist sent his satisfaction and agreement.

Lawrence finished his brief scan of the room’s occupants, not pausing on all the naked perfection it contained. Most shifters preferred going unclothed in private like this. It let them shift with ease, but it was more than that. All shifter senses were heightened and wearing clothes often irritated sensitive skin. They had to wear natural fibres because of that, but even so, they felt confined in anything but skin or fur. So out of sight of easily shocked humans, shifters tended to strip at the drop of a hat. David hardly noticed any more. He just didn’t care; shifters weren’t body conscious at all, taking their lead from their beasts in that regard. He had lost that particularly useless human emotion surprisingly quickly he now thought, but then as a medical professional, he hadn’t exactly been a prude before his change. Embarrassment; what was the use of it? Besides, the only naked shifter he wanted to look at was Ronnie, and she was avoiding him.

Callia likes me, Mist said smugly.

“And we like her and Ronnie, so it’s three against one. She’ll come around.”

His first weeks at Lost Souls had been a bit trying for Ronnie. He could admit that he’d been a little out of his depth and had followed her around like a second tail. That did not sit well with her, but her wolf, Callia, had liked it well enough. She was interested in Mist and apparently wasn’t shy in telling Ronnie so. David snorted as he imagined some of their conversations.

“Hey, David,” Lawrence said sitting upon the bed next to his. “Edward just posted the roster.”

“Oh?”

Lawrence nodded and gestured back and forth indicating the two of them. “Main doors again. Security.”

“Again?”

“He says there’s always less trouble when you’re on the doors.”

That was because a lot of the club’s clientele were monsters and able to sense his power. Shifters could always tell how strong another shifter was; it was part of what made the pack structure work. Shifter magic. His Presence was often enough to keep the peace all on its own. Other non-humans sensed different things in their own ways, but all of them responded to power. And the human thrill seekers? Well, that was why Edward partnered him with Lawrence most times. He was impressive in other ways—physically very imposing as well as being alpha.

“What’s he expecting, World War Three?”

Lawrence shrugged. “Nothing good. There’s trouble out there, big trouble. The vamps are upset about something, and some of the smaller packs are running scared. The Alley Dogs are agitated about,” he shrugged. “You know.”

He meant Ronnie, but it went deeper than that. Stephen needed his army, but because it was mostly comprised of lone wolves, it rubbed the packs the wrong way. Traditionally, rogue wolves had the right to enter a territory and visit briefly, but they weren’t supposed to take up permanent residence. If they wanted to do that, they had to petition a pack and join it. By giving so many rogues sanctuary and his protection, he had inadvertently challenged all the established packs. They didn’t want to fight Stephen, and Stephen didn’t want to fight them—everyone liked the status quo in LA—but by turning a blind eye to Stephen’s unorthodox not-pack, they undermined the system that made the pack structure so successful.

Until now, the blind eye approach had rubbed along not without irritations, but nothing more serious than that. The Alley Dogs however were a powerful pack and force in the community, and this time they had put their foot down. They wanted Ronnie back, or the Alley Dog’s Alpha did. Raymond Pederson. He had been Stephen’s most powerful ally until Ronnie came between them, but no more. It still surprised him that Stephen had not made the pragmatic choice of just throwing Ronnie back, back to the wolves so to speak, but he hadn’t. Instead, he had stuck to his—seemingly ruinous—policy of welcoming shifters into his vampiric embrace if they would give themselves to him body and soul.

David grimaced. He hadn’t been subjected to the body part of that deal. Yet. It could only be a matter of time though before he had to feed Stephen or one of his people. Blood was part of the deal. The fact they were so well fed made Stephen and his people a power among the vamp Houses of LA. Shifter blood had power and imbued them with it. Stephen wasn’t the oldest vampire in LA; Gavin Lochlin was, but he was close in power to Gavin because of his feeding habits. Michael was second in age to Gavin, but he was actually weaker than Stephen. That was a stark reminder that in vampire circles the old saying ‘you are what you eat’ held literal truth. Well-fed vamps were powerful vamps.

He checked his wristband. Stephen had hours yet before he woke, but the club would be opening and hopping long before he rose for the evening. He had to get dressed now if he wanted to open the doors on time, and he did. Monsters were no more patient in a queue than a human would be. He didn’t need to start his day breaking up fights and banging heads together.

He put aside his book and swung his legs off the bed. “Give me five minutes here and I’ll be with you.”

Lawrence nodded absently and picked up the book. “What are you reading?”

“Research, sort of.”

“Children of the Gods,” Lawrence said reading the title and then flipping open the book to a random page. “If you want to learn more about what you are, ask one of us. This bullshit won’t teach you anything.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, but I agree a lot of it’s junk. Flip to the appendix.”

David stripped out of his jeans and shirt to pull on his uniform. He thought of it as a uniform because it was Lost Souls approved clothing, but it wasn’t really a uniform. It was 1920-30s style formal wear. Stephen wanted his theme reflected in his employee’s manner and dress as well as the acts performing in the club. The interior decor of course perfectly mimicked the era. David wasn’t averse to looking the part; it was nostalgic, but a doorman’s uniform complete with cap might have strained his patience. Stephen hadn’t gone that far. He wanted the ambiance from those swank nightclubs that Lost Souls emulated, but needed his people to be able to mingle when necessary to keep things peaceful.

His ego had become quite flexible all things considered, but he was glad he didn’t need to wear a real uniform. One area where he had become less flexible and not more was in his inability to accept anyone weaker trying to dominate him. Hoberman would receive short thrift from him now if ever they met again. If that bigoted idiot had a scrap of sense, he would stay well clear. His new attitude was all Mist’s influence and his changed nature. So far, it hadn’t been too much of an issue here, because shifters could be very pragmatic once shown where they stood in the hierarchy. They usually settled down after a brief demonstration of why they should, but it was equally true that they wouldn’t back down for less. It was programmed into them or something. They just weren’t happy with uncertainty. They had to know where they belonged to be truly happy with their place in the pack. He supposed he could understand that. He hadn’t liked uncertainty before his change. Why would he like it afterwards?

“I see what you mean,” Lawrence said. “All that research and effort and he produces a trash book? That doesn’t make a lot of sense. This is good stuff.”

“We all have blind spots.”

Lawrence grunted noncommittally.

David finished dressing and headed up to the club with Lawrence. “Do you ever wonder where you would be if not for Farris?”

“Dead,” Lawrence said grimly.

That made him check his stride. “Dead?”

“Dead.” Lawrence sighed and glanced at his wristband. Obviously deciding they had time, he ran a hand through his hair and launched into his story. “Most of us have an attack in our past to blame lycanthropy upon right?”

David nodded. He hadn’t met anyone who didn’t.

“Not me. How long do you think I’ve been a shifter? Have a guess.”

“Five, ten years?”

“I’m thirty-five and I’ve been a shifter twenty of them.”

David’s jaw dropped.

“I wasn’t attacked. I was in a car accident. My parents didn’t make it, and I was paralysed. Broke my neck at C3.”

David winced. “Paraplegic?”

Lawrence nodded.

“I’m sorry, but they fixed you up.”

“No, they couldn’t fix me. I was on life support for almost five years slowly going mad. I begged them to let me die. Begged! They wouldn’t of course. Sedona loves life; those who follow her cannot kill or allow harm to come to someone under their care… blah, blah, blah. Their rhetoric is sickening.” Lawrence said bitterly. “As if forcing me to linger wasn’t harming me. The clerics tried everything, but gradually one by one they stopped coming. Then it was the turn of the doctors to try all their crackpot ideas. Eventually they gave up too, and I was left to rot in a private room paid for by the insurance company.”

“How did you become a shifter?”

“I couldn’t do anything for myself. Nothing. I would have refused food if I could have, but they put tubes into my stomach and fed me that way. I have no family. None. There was no one I could beg to kill me, and the nurses were horrified when I raged at them. They stopped listening to me long before it happened.

“One night this woman put her head into my room looking for her friend. I told her to bugger off and leave me alone, but thank the Goddess she didn’t. She said her name was Liz as if she hadn’t heard me, all smiles and charm she was. She came into the room, sat down without asking, and just started talking to me. I ignored her of course, and eventually she left. She came back to see her friend off and on and stopped by to talk with me.

“Anyway, a couple of weeks later she came by one last time to tell me her friend was being discharged and they were going home out of state. That’s when she offered to try to fix me.”

“She was a shifter.”

Lawrence nodded. “She hadn’t told me before because,” he shrugged. “You know. She didn’t want me to start yelling about monsters and causing a fuss. I wouldn’t have done that, not even back then. I was almost fifteen by then, and looked like a skeleton. All my muscles had atrophied. I was a real mess. You were a doctor. You know what happens.”

He nodded, easily imagining it. Muscles waste away from lack of use and tendons shrink causing limbs to curl up. Without regular physiotherapy, Lawrence would have curled into the foetal position eventually. The hospital staff would have worked to reduce that, but they couldn’t prevent such changes completely.

Lawrence continued. “So she offers to try, and I say I’ll do anything to get out of that place. Anything. She could do whatever she wanted; bite me, kill me and eat me… anything. So she bites me. I wanted her to smuggle me out first, but the life-support machines couldn’t go with me. She said if the bite didn’t fix me, she would turn off the machines and let me die.”

“And Farris saved you,” David said quietly.

“Yeah. The bite worked but the change was very hard. Farris and I became one, but I was a mess. I still couldn’t move as a human. Farris was mobile, but so weak that we nearly died turning wolf that first time. The change takes energy and I had none. I was the worst looking wolf ever. All skin and bone, but I could move again. I didn’t care if I never turned back. As far as I was concerned, Farris could have our body and welcome to it. He wasn’t enthusiastic about the situation.”

David grinned. “Liz took you with her?”

“I stayed wolf for weeks. I had to play nice doggy around the humans we met until she could get us into the boonies and out of sight. She fed us up. I just let Liz and Farris get on with it, and basked in the freedom of being out of that damned room. Then one morning I woke up naked without fur. Farris, the sneaky bugger, had triggered the change in the night. I was human again, and weak as a baby, but I could move. I staggered into the house and here I am twenty years later.”

“Explains all the gym time.”

Lawrence shrugged. “I’ll never let myself be helpless again,” he said grimly. “Never. As for the body building, I enjoy it, but I wasn’t kidding the other day when you asked about it. When everyone you know is strong, any edge is good to have. You should think about it.”

He shook his head. “I’ve no interest in that. Besides, Mist is strong enough for both of us.”

We are one. We are strong enough for both of us.

True enough.

“You can never be strong enough,” Lawrence said. “Ask the vamps. There’s always someone stronger. Always.”

All vamps were paranoid suckers... ha! Paranoid blood suckers! “We better get on the door before Edward comes looking for us.”

Lawrence nodded and together they headed for the elevator.