Master's Blood (The Shifter Chronicles 6) Read online

  Master’s Blood

  The Shifter Chronicles 6

  Beginnings Book Six

  M.D. Grimm

  Master’s Blood

  The Shifter Chronicles 6

  Beginnings Book Six

  By M.D. Grimm

  Cover Art by Catt Ford

  Copyright 2021 M.D. Grimm

  Smashwords Edition

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Epilogue

  About This Book

  About M.D. Grimm

  Other Titles by M.D. Grimm

  Connect with M.D. Grimm

  Prologue

  “You have failed me,” Arcas said, his silky voice a physical touch through the phone. “Again.”

  The listener shivered and tightened his grip on the cell phone pressed to his ear. He peeked through the curtains into the night and wondered if he was being watched. The very fact that Arcas was talking to him directly instead of leaving it to Gregor sent a dribble of sweat rolling down his back. No news was good news when it came to the leader of the Knights.

  “I’m so sorry, my lord. I didn’t know—”

  “No excuses!” Arcas snapped. “I tire of your whimpering. First the raid, now my pet. That’s two strikes against you. So far you have proved useless.”

  “My lord, please. I have served you faithfully for years. You know I have. These are only recent setbacks—”

  “Setbacks.”

  His dead tone brought the listener up short.

  “Yes, perhaps they are. Setbacks.” He snorted. “They are still strikes. Another setback might earn you a one-way trip into the ground. Now get me results, you imbecile.”

  “I will, my lord, I promise,” the listener said, eager to prove his worth.

  “You had better. If you fail me again there will be consequences. I already lost my pet because of your incompetence. If I lose anything else, I will personally show you my displeasure.”

  The listener gulped.

  “Now listen carefully. Gregor has already sent several of our trusted followers into the beast’s forest, and they lie in wait. I’ve hidden them from the beast.”

  “What do you need me to do?” the listener asked.

  “Send the thorn in my side to find the beast,” Arcas said, a smile evident in his tone. “They can die together. But not before you get that blood.”

  “Yes, my lord,” the listener said. “And then―pardon me, but will I get my reward?”

  Arcas chuckled. It wasn’t a pleasant sound. “Oh yes, then you will get your reward.”

  He hung up, and the listener slipped the cell phone into his pocket. He wasn’t sure if he should be encouraged or worried. He’d messed up, sure, but his lord was willing to give him a second chance―that was a good sign, wasn’t it?

  The listener turned toward the window again and saw nothing in the darkness except the outlines of tall buildings. His reward would be immortality. It was the one thing he so desperately craved. The beast’s blood would give him that, his lord had said. Anticipation welled up inside him, and he couldn’t wait to begin.

  Chapter One

  Ursus-Horibilis—the grizzly bear

  Hath range from Mexico to Canadian realm,

  From Rocky Mountains to Pacific seas,

  And ever will the mightiest foe o’erwhelm.

  Whether in forest or on granite height

  The conflict rages, the relentless fight,

  In size, in strength, ferocity supreme,

  It is the monarch of all animal life.

  ~Isaac McLellan, Hunting the Grizzly Bear

  Two agents, a man and a woman, circled each other in mock combat at the current Agency headquarters. It was still early morning but neither had slept more than four hours the last couple of days. Too much to do and not enough time to do it in was the usual reason. The two agents were equally matched despite their height difference―the man being considerably shorter than his tall, Amazonian opponent.

  They fought in one of the Agency’s training rooms. They were the only ones there, and loud, aggressive music played in the background, echoing, heating their blood. But it wasn’t so loud that they couldn’t hear each other. The lights were bright and heated the room slightly, reflecting off the mirrors and warming the air. The room was extremely climate controlled―it could be boiling or freezing. Agents needed to train in all environments, since they never knew where their next assignment might take them. The floor was currently covered with mats, and both agents were barefoot. The man was shirtless, his defined muscles straining, and the woman wore a tank top, her sports bra clearly showing. Their training had also required them, depending on the situation, to disrobe and continue fighting―in all weather conditions. Modesty was the first thing to go when one became an agent.

  “Maybe I should go to the substation,” Genii said, flipping her fiery hair over her shoulder. It was coming loose from her tie. “See if I can find something you missed.”

  “Oh? So now I miss things, do I?” Poe threw a punch at Genii’s face. She dodged and swung a hard kick at his side. He blocked before dancing away with minimal effort.

  “You know that’s not what I meant.” Genii’s tone was patient as she circled Poe. He knew that, but his frustration was making him cranky all the time.

  “I don’t miss things, Genii,” he said confidently, his breaths coming in short pants. “There was nothing to miss there. The shifter’s gone and so is Josh.”

  It had only been twenty-four hours since Poe discovered that a dangerous wolf shifter, one whom the Knights had experimented on, had not only escaped but kidnapped one of the Agency’s aides. And it had only been about seventy-two hours since Poe had personally led the raid into the Knights HQ—mostly shutting down their operation and downloading their data. Knights were still being rounded up, but there was no word as to the location of their leader, Arcas, or his right-hand man, Gregor.

  Which was the reason why Poe was taking out his frustration in hand-to-hand combat with his good friend Genii.

  “This is bullshit!” Poe punctuated each word with a jab at Genii’s midsection. The air whistled slightly as his fists flew through the air. She blocked him expertly before giving him a sharp jab on the shoulder. Hissing, Poe kicked at her leg, and she wasn’t quick enough this time to block it.

  “Dammit, Poe.” She moved away from him, limping slightly. “This is why no one will fight with you when you’re pissed. You aim to kill.”

  “They’re all pussies.” Poe lashed out unexpectedly and grabbed her arm, twisting it behind her back and pullin
g up.

  She yelped. Genii stood a foot and a half over Poe. She was also well-muscled with quick reflexes, and yet he always managed to beat her in all their mock combats. Poe had the enviable skill of slipping under his opponent’s defenses and incapacitating them.

  “I yield! Yield!” She was forced to lean backward over him on her toes.

  Poe was almost disappointed. He let go and stalked away, still stressed. He grabbed a towel and turned back as she rubbed her arm, scowling at him with a red face. He wiped his face and chest, his muscles singing from the workout.

  “They’re not pussies, Poe. They just have more sense than I do.”

  Poe smiled, too sharp to be pleasant, and sat on the bench. “You’ll get over it.”

  Genii continued scowling, but she sat next to Poe anyway, nudging him roughly on the shoulder. She wiped her own face, and Poe stared at his feet, his heart steadily returning to its normal rhythm.

  They sat in silence for several minutes before Poe’s shoulders slumped. He rested his head on Genii’s shoulder. He didn’t show exhaustion and vulnerability to just anyone—only Genii and Captain Odin, his former partner. Genii’s pale skin was soft and pinkened by exertion, and he closed his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath, the air tinged with their sweat. He rather liked the smell of hard work.

  “I have no leads, Genii. I don’t even know if Josh is still alive,” Poe murmured.

  “What about that ATM withdrawal―”

  “Dead end,” Poe said bitterly. “The shifter took Josh’s account card and withdrew a good amount of money before cutting up the card. Now the shifter has cash, and there’s no way to track him. He just fucking vanished.” Poe scowled darkly. “The Agency vehicle was found next to the same ATM. They’ve got about a two-day head start on me. They’re definitely out of New Mexico now, and I have no clue as to their destination. If they have one. If he has one.”

  Poe narrowed his eyes, glaring around the room. He should have just killed that damn shifter when he’d had the chance. The Agency might have been created to protect shifters, but they also needed to protect themselves, each other. He must find Josh.

  “All I get is a fucking email from Josh saying he’s all right. To not worry. I’d think it was by the shifter if I knew for a fact the shifter couldn’t know the Agency’s email. It was from Josh. That damn idiot. What the hell does he think he’s playing at?”

  Genii patted his leg. “You’ll find them, Poe. If anyone can, it’s you.”

  “Right, because I’m Mister Perfect Agent,” Poe said resentfully. He stood and paced, stretching his arms, hoping to curb his annoyance. With irritation, he grabbed the controller for the stereo and turned off the music. The growly singer was cut off abruptly, and the silence that fell sounded louder against his ears.

  “If you didn’t want that reputation,” Genii said. “You shouldn’t be so damn good at your job.”

  Poe muttered darkly. He turned away and caught his reflection in the mirrors that lined the walls. At only five feet tall, Poe had gotten a lot of crap as a child―always teased, always bullied. He’d been a scrawny little kid with attitude. Then the Agency came knocking after his ability manifested, and he’d signed up without hesitation. His parents had been wary at first, until they finally realized that Poe had found the place where he belonged.

  Despite his height, Poe knew he was intimidating to look at. His muscles were well defined, and he could be mistaken for a professional body builder. The strength of his muscles didn’t matter, though, since he would still be stronger than any person on earth. When he hit puberty he’d discovered a remarkable gift: strength. That was his ability, one given to him by his fae blood, both from his mother and father. He’d used it to great effect and made sure those damn bullies knew about it. Once he hit high school, he was never bullied again.

  His muscles were to intimidate and to make sure people took him seriously. He usually complemented his tough look by styling his blond hair short and spiky, as well as wearing a lot of leather and riding a motorcycle. He had a hard won badass, take-charge reputation.

  Yet there were times, like now, that he wished the Agency didn’t expect so much from him. He wasn’t a miracle worker.

  “Has Isis found anything?” Genii asked.

  Poe shook his head. “She’s tried dozens of times, but there’s nothing here personal enough for her to catch Josh’s scent.”

  Agent Isis could find “things” that were lost. That included people and agents if she had a personal object of theirs, one they touched a lot or something with great, personal meaning.

  “Some abilities just aren’t as predictable as others,” Genii said.

  “I guess it was too much to hope we had some piece of Josh lying around for such an occasion. Like Whirlwind.”

  Genii smiled. “It was real handy that Captain Hera had that bit of horn from when he was child.” She paused. “Come to think of it, why don’t we have something like that if one of us is in danger?”

  “Trust me, I’ve already brought it up with Odin.”

  “Good.”

  Poe continued to stretch and, eventually, Genii joined him.

  “What about you?” he asked. “Caught anything? Even a blimp?”

  Genii was psychic, though she hated that term. She had various mental abilities that anyone would envy. She might even be stronger than him when it came to sheer ability muscle. She could communicate mentally with others, share images, receive visions of possible future events, and even subtlety influence others under certain circumstances. Although most of her communication could only happen if she’d touched the person recently.

  On rare occasions, she could touch something personal of theirs and link their minds.

  “No,” Genii said sadly. She pulled her bloodred hair out of the ponytail. Her athletic body was wet dream material for men and women alike. “I didn’t know him that well and haven’t spoken to him in over a year.”

  “Yeah.”

  While Poe enjoyed the look of her, he was more inclined to men. She never wanted for intimate partners, despite Agency restrictions that tried to stamp out agents forming sexual relationships. The Agency had a strict policy on that: no intimate relationships with either a fellow agent or a shifter. Both indiscretions were cause for immediate dismissal, which would mean they would be stripped of all Agency support. Agents had to be tools, vessels. Their only function was to protect, hide, and mediate shifter activity and other rare supernatural happenings. Lifelong soldiers married to the organization.

  There was always a chance that agents who worked close together might grow too attached, and that was seen as dangerous. An agent couldn’t do their job adequately if their mind wasn’t on the mission. If their mind was focused on their lover and protecting them. Agents needed to have each other’s backs, but in a trusting friendship, nothing more. Besides, any sort of jealousy could also lead to disaster if the wrong people were put together on a mission.

  However, Poe knew several agents who violated the restriction on a regular basis. He was staring at one of them. Genii had broken that rule several times with several agents over the years, all short-lived dalliances―the most recent being with an agent in the electronics division. Often, as long as it didn’t affect their work, the captains looked away. A good agent was hard to come by. It was only if two agents or an agent and a shifter pursued an actual long-lasting relationship that the hammer came down. There weren’t many who risked it, though. Being an agent was a burden, sure, but also a great honor and responsibility. It was working for a mission greater than oneself with a lot of lives on the line.

  Poe had nearly fallen victim several times over the years, with either a fellow agent or a shifter. He’d managed to resist, remembering why he was with the Agency. It wasn’t to have sex with someone in the heat of the moment. He sated his needs with one-night stands with humans at those clubs that catered to such things.

  “Was the wolf shifter even responding to treatments?”
Genii asked, pulling Poe out of his thoughts.

  “A little,” Poe said. “But he still had fits of rage that would make him shift. The lengths of the fits began to shorten but he still managed to mess up a few agents during them. We were starting to make progress on his name and identity, but now―” Poe considered her. “He’s dangerous, Genii. To everyone around him, not just shifters. If we do find them I might not have a choice this time.”

  Genii looked away, and Poe knew how she felt. Their job was to protect shifters, to ensure their safety as well as the safety of humans who didn’t know they existed. The Agency was a police force as well as a cleanup crew. They made sure the general human population didn’t know that there were shifters living among them.

  But more than that―agents had a kinship with shifters, since both needed to remain hidden in a world dominated by average, “normal” humans.

  “You’re not alone, Poe.” Genii took his hand. Her calluses scraped his own, and they could match scar for scar. “We help each other, remember? I’ve got your back.”

  Poe managed a small smile. “Thanks, Genii. Let’s get back, now.”

  They gathered their things and walked to their respective locker rooms.

  “By the way, how’s the leg?”

  Poe glanced down at his right leg. Along the calf there was a long scar, given to him by a pissed-off jaguar shifter. He’d gotten it when he’d helped out the South American Agency deal with a shifter kidnapping ring. The slice had been deep, and he’d nearly bled to death.

  He shrugged. “I don’t limp anymore. No more pain. I’d say it’s doing all right.”

  Genii chuckled. “Just one more scar, right?”

  “Yep. Just one more.”

  They split up as they reached the locker room doors. Poe scrubbed away the sweat under the steaming water and touched the tattoo etched over his heart. It was a simple Celtic Trinity knot, representing the Three Tribes in the Beginning. Poe had a particular fondness for the creation myth. The three tribes were the shifters, humans, and the fae. Poe and every other agent were descendants from the fae tribe. Well, to get technical, most if not all humans were as well since the fae mated with humans, passing along their genes. But most abilities didn’t manifest at all, so those humans simply lived their mundane lives, in their vanilla worlds.