Chapter 1
Special Agent Shan Zhao of the Federal Bureau of Shifter Affairs—a seasoned operative, with over a decade of experience in matters of supernatural security—stared down at the dossier for his latest assignment.
“Ghosts,” he said flatly.
His supervisor Min-Seo shrugged, one leg dangling over the arm of her executive chair. “That’s what the witnesses claim to have seen.”
“And these reported ghost sightings occurred at a…” Shan checked the file again, in the vain hope that he’d somehow misread the location. “Summer camp.”
“Camp Thunderbird.” Min-Seo plucked a lollipop from the glass bowl on her desk, unwrapping it as she spoke. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten the place already.”
Shan had not forgotten the place. Unfortunately. He had in fact been trying very hard to forget it.
Or rather, to forget someone.
He kept his expression carefully neutral. “To clarify. You want me to investigate an unsettling presence lurking in the woods near the summer camp. With the only eye-witnesses who claim to have seen this unknown threat being the local shifter children.”
Min-Seo stuck the lollipop in her mouth. “Yep.”
Shan gave her a level look through his sunglasses. “And you believe ghosts are the most plausible explanation?”
“I didn’t say it was the most plausible explanation,” Min-Seo said somewhat indistinctly. “Just a potential one. And it’s not the first weird sighting in that area. Remember the reports from the local sheriff?”
“I already investigated those.”
And it would have been so much better if I hadn’t.
“Yes, yes, I read your report, such as it was.” Min-Seo waved a hand dismissively.
“No evidence of shifter involvement or threat to our kind, outside our jurisdiction. But this new case comes from shifters. And Camp Thunderbird is a sensitive location. We can’t take any risks when it comes to the safety of shifter kids. ”
That was true. Normally, he would have accepted the assignment without question, no matter how trivial it might seem. Over the course of his career, he’d handled more than a few cases that had turned out to be far more significant than they’d first appeared.
Yes, his monster hissed. He could feel it pacing at the bottom of his soul, pressing against the bars of his self-control. Go. Stalk. Hunt. Feast.
He leafed through the briefing again, scanning the sparse lines of print for any chance of escape. “This evidence would not seem to justify a full investigation.”
“Normally, I’d agree with you.” Min-Seo shrugged, lollipop tucked into one cheek. “But it’s not my call. This landed on my desk flagged Top Priority. Seems someone important has a personal interest in Camp Thunderbird. It’s all a bit political.”
Shan rubbed his forehead with a gloved thumb. “Are any other agents available?”
“You’re the one who’s familiar with the area. And with your talent, you should be able to get to the bottom of this in a fraction of the time it would take anyone else.” Min-Seo raised her eyebrows at him. “What’s the problem? It’s not like you’re busy with anything else right now.”
That was also true. Unfortunately.
He already knew it was a lost cause, but he tried anyway. “I’d hoped my next assignment would be somewhat more challenging.”
And ideally, at the other end of the country. The further he stayed from Camp Thunderbird, the better.
Hunger raked at him, sharp as tiger claws. His stomach twisted, letting out an embarrassingly audible growl.
Min-Seo’s hearing was as sharp as a fox’s even in human form. Her gaze flickered in the direction of his midsection. “It’s getting worse, isn’t it?”
He set his jaw, attempting to silence his traitorous gut through sheer willpower. “I have it under control.”
“Uh-huh.” Min-Seo’s tone held more skepticism than a church full of atheists. “You want to try saying that again, this time while looking me in the eye?”
He pushed his wraparound sunglasses further up his nose. “If you have doubts about my fitness for duty—”
“I don’t,” Min-Seo interrupted, and then grimaced. “Shit.”
He’d already tasted the lie, bitter and smoky on his tongue. “Yet you think it’s a good idea to send me to a camp full of children?”
“Yes,” Min-Seo said firmly, and this time his mouth filled with sweetness. “I know you, Shan. You’d never hurt anyone.”
“Lie.”
Min-Seo flashed him a sharp, wicked grin. “Well, no one who didn’t have it coming. You’re no danger to anyone at that camp.”
He let out an ironic huff. “Another lie.”
“No, it’s not.” The words tasted like peaches and cream—though that only showed she believed what she was saying, not that it was actually true.
“Look, I don’t know exactly what’s eating you, but you’ve been even angstier than normal recently.
Which, speaking as your oldest friend, is quite a feat.
And speaking as your boss…get over yourself, Shan.
I can’t afford to have one of my best agents out of commission. ”
He folded his arms. “Yet you can afford to send me to chase ghosts at a children’s summer camp?”
Min-Seo leaned back in her chair, rolling the lollipop from one side of her mouth to the other. “Shan, what’s the purpose of our department?”
The words rolled off his tongue without thought, a mantra as familiar as his own name. “To protect the safety of shifters and prevent the general human populace from discovering our existence.”
“Exactly.” Min-Seo jabbed the lollipop stick at him. “And good as you are at the former, you’re a liability when it comes to the latter. We’re stretched thin enough as it is. I don’t have the resources to scramble an emergency cover-up team every time you have a wardrobe malfunction at Starbucks.”
His fingers twitched guiltily in his gloves. “That will not happen again.”
Min-Seo shook her head. “As the head of this division, I can’t take that risk. But as I said, I also need every agent I can get. Which is why you get the Camp Thunderbird job. Everyone there is either a shifter or knows about us already. No risk of exposure.”
Her logic was sound, much as it pained him to admit it. “I would still prefer a different assignment.”
“Tough, because this is the one you’re getting.
” Min-Seo flicked her chewed lollipop stick into the trash.
“Why are you making such a big deal out of this? It’s hardly a difficult assignment.
In all probability, it’s just a bunch of bored kids making up shit for attention.
All you have to do is go to the camp and ask a few questions. Piece of cake.”
There was one other factor that considerably complicated the mission, at least from his perspective. But arguing any further would only make Min-Seo suspicious. The last thing he needed was her figuring out exactly why he didn’t want to return to Camp Thunderbird.
Still, at least this time he was forewarned. He could take precautions.
He pushed back his chair, tucking the dossier under his arm. “I’ll set out for Camp Thunderbird immediately.”
“I’ll inform the camp director that you’re on your way.” Min-Seo’s eyes softened a little. “And don’t rush back to the office, okay? Take this as an opportunity to clear your head. A bit of time in a nice, peaceful, shifter-only environment might do you some good.”
Anything he might have said would have been a lie. He inclined his head in acknowledgement, neither agreeing nor disagreeing, before ducking out of Min-Seo’s office.
The Federal Bureau of Shifter Affairs maintained a network of bases, mostly hidden in plain sight.
This particular center of operation masqueraded as a small regional office for the Department of Land Management (Freshwater Quality Monitoring subdivision), thus ensuring few unauthorized mundanes ever accidentally strayed onto the premises.
Shan made his way through the deliberately shabby office building until he reached his own small, plain cubicle.
Sinking into his chair, he opened the dossier again, flipping through it until he found the page listing the camp staff.
They were all printed in the same bland, black font, yet to his eyes, one name stood out as starkly as if highlighted in neon:
Leonie MacCormick - Head counselor
Saliva flooded his mouth.
He breathed out, fighting down the sickening wash of hunger. Perhaps he could avoid her entirely. And if he couldn’t…well, he had his sunglasses. As long as she never saw his eyes, things would be all right. Not for him—never for him—but for her, at least.
Demonic eyes gleamed at the back of his mind. Lie.
Shan clenched his teeth, refusing to listen. It would be all right. Surely it couldn’t take that long to uncover the truth behind this so-called ghost. He’d only be at the camp for a few hours.
And his mate would never know.