That was Blue.
She paused at the end of the aisle and selected a hairbrush. It occurred to Shepherd that Kira owned nothing but the clothes on her back. The grocery list didn’t have any personal items. No shampoo, no brushes, no scented soap. Blue was a practical woman, so it was a good thing she’d tagged along to think of those things.
Wyatt bumped her behind with his cart. “Shake a tail feather. I need to get outta here pronto. The yammering on the intercom is driving me nuts.”
“We’re almost done,” she ground out.
Wyatt threw his army-green jacket over his groceries and added his hat to the pile. His disheveled hair made it look like he’d just rolled out of bed and gotten dressed. Then again, he wasn’t exactly dressed to impress in a T-shirt that said: EAT RIGHT. EXERCISE. DIE ANYWAY.
Gravewalkers were morbid little bastards.
Wyatt swaggered past Blue.
“Where do you think you’re going?” she shouted.
Wyatt was halfway past the pharmacy. “To wrestle my inner demons in aisle one!”
Shepherd lined up his cart next to Wyatt’s and pulled both of them from the front. “That’s Wyatt-speak for bathroom.”
Blue chose one of the conditioner bottles and tossed it in her cart. All three baskets were loaded with meat and vegetables. Only natural ingredients were on the list since the new girl had no idea that cake came in a box. Whole corn instead of canned. Fresh fish instead of frozen. Flour instead of premade bread or pastries.
Yeah, Shepherd could get used to having a servant after all. But he didn’t like the idea of calling her a servant. None of them did. Maid didn’t begin to cover all her responsibilities. Could one person handle a job this demanding? What kind of life was this for a woman? Never going out, never experiencing the world, and working all day for no money. Money to buy things like music, curtains, or a fucking dress.
“Something on your mind?” Blue asked.
Shepherd cracked his knuckles. “No, honey. I’m just the quiet type.”
She searched his eyes.
When he heaved a sigh, the long feather earring hooked to her right ear danced on a gust of air. Avian Shifters sometimes lost feathers during the shift, and Blue collected them like pieces of herself.
“What was up with your falcon this morning?” he asked, switching subjects.
Taken aback by the question, Blue faced the shelf and pretended to look at hair gel. “The new girl needs to know the house is mine.”
His lips twitched. “Yours?”
“I don’t mean mine, I mean my territory. It’s a Shifter thing. You wouldn’t understand.”
“Afraid she’s going to snack on you?”
Blue swung her gaze up, brows arched high. “That’s not funny. For your information, my falcon can rip an animal to shreds. Anyhow, Shifters who live in the same house have to let their animals meet. If you don’t, it’s a recipe for disaster. No matter how much I get along with someone, my falcon needs to meet them in both human and animal form. It’s just our way.”
“It doesn’t seem to bother Viktor.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. He’s probably shifted in her presence before. They’re obviously not strangers to each other.” With that, Blue spun on her heel and steered her cart around the corner.
Curious, Shepherd dragged the carts behind him and followed her through the pharmacy.
“And besides, what if she’s a rodent? I could eat her!” Blue didn’t seem to care who heard her.
A white-haired lady perked up from the blood pressure machine, eyes wide.
Blue finally stopped by the vitamins and pretended to read a bottle. “I’ll never trust her if I can’t meet her animal.”
“That’s bullshit, and you know it. We’re all here to start over. You think she’s any different?”
Her eyes didn’t flash up to look at him suspiciously but remained downcast. Blue had her own demons. Hell, they all did. That was a given. Viktor didn’t hire his employees based on exemplary behavior and squeaky-clean backgrounds.
“Yes, but what if she’s a panther, Shep? You wanna run into that at three in the morning? Be my guest. Her little secret could get one of us killed.”
A knot formed in the pit of his stomach, and he suddenly needed a cigarette. “Back in five.”
“Shepherd! You can’t leave me here with all this food.”
Without looking back, he held up his pack of smokes to explain.
Shit. If Blue felt that way, then he was screwed. Shepherd’s secret could get them all killed, if not thrown in Breed jail, and that was why he had to keep a lid on it. The thought of his boy in Bane’s care was eating him up, plaguing his thoughts night and day. He’d finally tamped down the pain and rage, but now he was in a new place. One that was cold and lonely.
Lost souls. No two words tatted on a man’s skin could ever more accurately describe Keystone.
The intercom clicked on, and a familiar voice boomed on the mic. “Hey, shoppers! Are you tired of having your soul slowly sucked out of your body while shopping for face bleach? Yeah, well, get ready for a blast from the past. Oh, and steaks are free for the next hour. First come, first serve.”
Shepherd halted in his tracks as two people literally left their carts and dashed to the meat section of the store.
Wyatt had somehow hijacked the intercom. Shepherd didn’t see him standing at any of the registers, so he must have taken the private employee room hostage. Seconds later, a familiar Air Supply song came on.
“Jesus fuck,” Shepherd muttered.
Wyatt had only played that song from his bedroom a zillion times. The haunting tune of “All Out of Love” would loop on his phone, echoing through the empty halls.
When two workers hustled up to a room behind Customer Service and pounded their fists on the door, the volume cranked up.
“Fucking hell,” Shepherd muttered. “Nobody’s got time for that.”
An icy wind slapped him in the face as the automated doors slid open and he stepped outside. With a cigarette dangling from his mouth, he struck a match and cupped his hand around it. After a short puff, the paper lit and tobacco began to smoke. The flavorful drag slipped down his lungs on a breath, and he held it for a few beats before blowing it out. Sometimes that was all it took for his mind to stop spinning in circles. A cigarette made him feel present and was the least destructive vice he could have. Drugs were seductive and dangerous, especially those spiked with magic, so he avoided them. But every immortal had some kind of addiction. Sex, clothes, alcohol, killing. Christian had candy, Wyatt had computers, and Shepherd had nicotine.
A biting chill skated across his neck, but his hard leather jacket kept him warm. When he heard the tread of little feet stomping in his direction, Shepherd glanced over his right shoulder. He almost looked away until he glimpsed wild black hair and blue eyes coming at him through a thin veil of fog.