Shifter’s Thunder (Ice Age Shifters #6)

Chapter 1

Sheriff Tanner Stands In River closed the laptop computer on his desk with a firm click.

The automatic espresso machine on the credenza hissed like a steam engine, a totally-worth-the-price wonder that produced the only substance capable of getting Tanner through a day of shift schedules, budget reports, and supplies requisitions.

He watched the dark stream of Kona blend he’d ordered from a small farm in Hawaii drip into his ceramic mug.

The rich, nutty aroma filled his office, momentarily masking the scent of the fresh pine wreath on his office door.

He tilted back in his chair and gazed at the subtle cloud pattern on the ceiling.

It’s open-skies blue color eased the occasional claustrophobia that sometimes made his skin twitch when he spent too many hours indoors.

The budget reconciliation report was filed, the duty roster for the winter festival parade was set, and the coffee was his reward.

He indulged in a moment of self-congratulation.

Earlier, during a lull in the station’s activity, he had managed to slip out to the sheriff station’s garage and load an armful of wrapped packages into the cargo hold of his usually dependable, if increasingly rattletrap, SUV.

He’d covered them with a carelessly crumpled woolen blanket, just in case prying eyes looked through the tinted windows of the “Sheriff-mobile.” The traditions of his ancestors ran strong in his blood, and he enjoyed giving.

This year, he’d found something for almost everyone on his list, from a rare first edition spellbook for the wyvern known as Scholar of the Skies to a set of dwarf-forged precision tools for the Iolo Maxen, owner of a magical devices repair business.

He was still looking for the perfect gift for Deputy Sheriff Shiloh, his second-in-command and good friend.

Tanner’s gaze drifted to the high clerestory window.

The sky was a thick, bruised purple, promising a storm.

When he’d been out on patrol earlier, he’d tasted the metallic tang of it on the back of his tongue.

The forecast called for thundersnow, a rare, volatile mix of heavy snowfall and electrical storms. His bones pulsed with the distant, gathering charge.

If he didn’t have responsibilities, he would already be winging up in his thunderbird form to meet the lightning halfway.

The thunder was his element, the storm his oldest friend, and the urge to lose himself in the turbulent clouds was a physical ache across the back of his shoulders where his wings would be when he shifted.

The office door swung open, bringing Tanner back to ground. Deputy Osborne, the exchange officer from Barron, Florida, stood in the doorway. The cougar shifter often looked uncomfortably cold in this climate, but at the moment, his expression was one of utter bafflement.

“Sheriff? There’s a… situation on the front sidewalk.”

Tanner righted his chair and glanced at the nearly full coffee mug before giving Osborn his attention. The deputy didn’t seem panicked, which ruled out another street brawl between drunken tourists. “What kind of situation?”

“It’s like a…” Osborne gestured vaguely with both hands, as if trying to shape the air into an explanation. “Well, there’s a… I don’t even know how to call it in.” He dropped his hands, shrugging apologetically. “I think you’re going to have to see for yourself.”

With a heavy sigh, Tanner stood and walked around his desk.

The perfect cup would have to wait, likely destined to go cold and bitter before he returned.

Duty didn’t care about caffeine. He grabbed his phone and put on his shiny brown uniform winter jacket, the familiar weight settling on his shoulders. “Lead the way, Deputy.”

“Surprise!”

The shout erupted from a sea of faces packing the street, the sound bouncing off the brick facades of Glade Street. Tanner blinked, his hand freezing halfway to the radio unit on his shoulder once his brain caught up with his eyes. It wasn’t a riot. It was a street party.

Streamers in silver and blue waved in the ubiquitous wind, and the scent of mulled spiced cider filled the air.

Standing on a temporary platform draped in bunting, Guivre Gul-Vert commanded the chaos with her usual effortless poise.

The ancient golden elf, who looked barely past her teenage years, wore a long coat of living, fuzzy silver-green leaves that flapped in the breeze, though he knew her magic made her impervious to the cold.

“Sheriff Stands In River,” Guivre announced, her voice magically amplified to cut through the cheering.

“For one hundred years, you have been the shield of Kotoyeesinay. We intended to wait until the solstice for this presentation, but...” — she cast a withering, though affectionate, glance toward Shiloh and a few others standing close to the platform — “…some people find secrecy too hard to keep. So, on behalf of the Town Council and a grateful community, we present your new partner.”

She swept her arm wide, and the crowd parted to reveal an SUV.

It was a beast of a machine in vivid, electric blue.

The hood and front quarter panels featured a subtle, shifting paint job that mimicked a galaxy of stars, and the door had a shiny silver town seal and the words SHERIFF 100.

It sat on the street like a crouching predator, gleaming under the holiday lights, promising a luxury interior and enough torque to pull a rock giant out of an avalanche.

Tanner stepped onto the platform and turned to face the crowd.

He’d known most of the smiling faces for decades, some for more than a century.

“You got me,” he admitted, his voice rougher than he intended.

He cleared his throat and grinned. “I pride myself on knowing everything that happens in this town, but clearly, I’ve been slipping.

It has been a privilege and an honor to serve and guard this town, and I am deeply grateful for your support.

” He looked at the gleaming machine. “And for the kick-ass new Sheriff-mobile.”

Laughter rippled through the gathering as Guivre pressed a presentation box containing the key fobs into his hand.

Immediately, the conspirators closed in, directing him off the platform and toward the metallic blue beauty.

Tinsel, his polar fairy friend who owned a castle-shaped bed-and-breakfast, practically glowed in excitement, her silvery eyes dancing.

“I installed the onboard navigation assistant. It has personality options. Don’t set it to ‘Sassy’ unless you like snark. ”

Beside her, Shepherd Knight, the massive ogre-bogeyman hybrid, clapped a hand on Tanner’s shoulder, nearly grounding him into the pavement.

“Reinforced suspension, armor plating, and wolf-shifter proof. Heated seats, too.” Shepherd beamed a sunny smile and pointed to Tanner’s second-in-command.

“Shiloh coordinated the whole operation.”

Shiloh leaned against the driver’s side door with negligent ease, his arms crossed, and his coyote eyes dancing with mischief. “Just try not to scratch it on the first day, boss.”

Tinsel sidled closer to Tanner. “Want me to send a little wish magic your way, so you have a special someone to share this with?”

He laughed and crossed his hands, palms facing out as if to block a blow. “No mate for me, Tinsel. My job comes first.”

“Sad, but true,” she agreed with a chuckle. “Someday, I hope you’ll have a reason to change that.”

Tanner shook his head as she moved away. She was notorious for matchmaking for her friends. A mate wasn’t in the cards for him. He was the last of his kind, and love relationships often didn’t survive the all-hours demands of law enforcement.

He ran his thumb over the smooth plastic of the key fob.

It was a magnificent gift, a testament to a century of duty fulfilled.

Yet, as the congratulations washed over him, a cold trickle of guilt seeped into his chest. They were cheering for the Sheriff, the steadfast guardian, the man who had built the department from a two-person shack to a staff of twenty in a newly remodeled modern sheriff station with room to grow.

They didn’t see the warrior who had reawakened during the battle at Fort LeBlanc.

He turned away from the tangible symbol of the town’s tribute to him, feeling like a fraud.

A heated seat and a roof rack of long-range spotlights couldn’t hold a candle to the wind under his wings and a fight that mattered.

Tanner locked his feelings away and mingled with the well-wishers until the crowd began to disperse.

They had places to go, and he had a shift to finish.

With a calculating assessment of the gleaming Sheriff 100, he decided to figure out where it would fit in the station’s garage before driving it in.

He turned toward the station entrance, only to have his path blocked by Sten Trolhorne and Lin Wolcz.

The ice dragon and the cave dragon stood shoulder to shoulder, a wall of entitlement in short-sleeved T-shirts.

Tanner was surprised they weren’t wearing shorts and sandals, too, in case anyone doubted their ability to tolerate cold weather.

“Sheriff Tanner! Hey dude, what’s up?” Trolhorne’s voice boomed like a hammer on an anvil.

The ice dragon styled himself as a muscled, modern-day Viking of a man, complete with braids in his beard and runic tattoos.

He made a living as a blacksmith and entertaining tourist women, the prettier, the better.

His superficial smile became more genuine when his gaze slid to the vehicle behind Tanner.

“This is a machine worthy of a warrior.”

“It’s a beauty, alright.” Tanner ignored the undercurrent of envy in Trolhorne’s words.