A Generation of Vipers (Shifter Shield Book 2)

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  Join the Shifter Shield Star Newsletter

  Join The Vampirarchy, Margo's Street Team

  About the Author

  A Generation of Vipers

  A Shifter Shield Story (#2)

  Copyright © 2016 by Margo Bond Collins

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any form or by any means electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval systems, without prior written permission of the author except where permitted by law.

  Published by Bathory Gate Press

  Granbury TX

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Dedication

  This novella is for everyone who asked me for a Lindi and Kade sequel. Don't fret—there is a full-length novel on the way. But I hope this makes you smile in the meantime! Love to you all!

  Chapter 1

  "Looks like quadruplets."

  My eyes widened.

  Quadruplets. Four shapeshifter babies?

  Three months ago, I didn't know there were any other shapeshifters in the world. For all I knew, I was some aberration, a weird-science experiment gone wrong and abandoned in the West Texas desert, where I was found by a herpetologist on a research trip.

  He thought he'd found a new breed of snake, something akin to a cobra, but like nothing he'd seen before.

  That he was willing to take me in and make me part of his family once he realized that I was a snake-shifter is, I think, a testament to how kind he and my mother are. The fact that they were able to train me up into a decent human being (at least, I think so) is, as far as I'm concerned, proof that nurture can overcome nature.

  That's what I was trying to remind myself of as I stared at the sonogram as the technician hovered it over Sally Vanderhorn's belly, circling around and around.

  "Are you sure?" I asked the technician, a young woman named Jamie who was also, I had recently learned, some sort of werecat.

  "Absolutely positive." Jamie pointed at the screen. "Look right there, and there. You can see the two human babies' heartbeats. But look over here"—her finger traced what I had been fairly sure was a streak on the screen, not part of the image at all—"and you can see the lamia vertebrae."

  We had learned early on not to say "snake" or "serpent" or any word like it with this particular group of pregnant women. They were all traumatized—victims of kidnap and rape who had decided, for one reason or another, to carry their pregnancies to term.

  They had been victimized and impregnated by the human-form son of another weresnake—a lamia, like me in form, if not in character—who had been trying to re-create her race after they had been all but wiped out by the shifter community.

  That community had decided to accept me, but only conditionally, and only because some of their most prominent members had spoken up on my behalf.

  Dr. Kade Nevala, one of those prominent members, a weremongoose, and the man I was currently dating, walked into the room and spoke to Sally. "How are you feeling today?"

  Like most women, Sally all but melted in the face of Kade's charm. "I'm doing okay, Dr. Nevala."

  Jamie showed him what she had seen on the sonogram, and he nodded, following along and discussing things like diet and exercise with Sally. I tried not to be distracted by his presence, but the sheer heat rolling off of him, spiced as it was with that slightly dangerous scent he carried, could turn my knees weak if I let it. The memory of the way he had held me that morning before we got out of bed to start our day was almost enough to wipe out my anxiety over the information Jamie had shared.

  Quadruplets.

  And Sally was one of five women who had opted not to terminate her pregnancy, some for health reasons, others for reasons of personal belief.

  None of them wanted to keep the babies.

  If they are all carrying multiples, we could end up with …

  I did some quick math.

  At the very least, there were going to be eight babies with lamia heritage.

  I was in so much trouble.

  Thank goodness Marta, the furthest along in her pregnancy, was carrying only one. We would have a little time after she delivered to get used to having a baby around—and maybe even a baby shifter.

  * * *

  "Don't panic," Kade said that evening as he stirred a pot of his homemade spaghetti sauce. "It's not like you're bringing them home to live in your house. We're going to set up a group home for them, with a live-in staff. You're their counselor, Lindi, not their mother."

  I poured a glass of Chianti and settled in on a barstool at the island in the middle of his large kitchen. "That's the thing. I'm not sure a group home is the right way to go with these kids."

  "You signed off on it when we came up with the idea." He narrowed his eyes at me and tasted the sauce, then added something to it. "Janice thinks it's the best option we have," he added, knowing that the leader of the shifters' Council had been tutoring me in all things shapeshifter recently, and that her endorsement mattered to me.

  "Yeah, but…" I trailed off, trying to find the words to explain what I was trying to say.

  As usual, I didn't have to find the exact phrase for Kade to understand. Or any words at all. "You're worried that without a stable home-life, you won't be able to give these children the same kind of emotional training that your parents gave you."

  I nodded and took a long drink.

  "We can provide stability. Everyone wants this to work."

  "Not quite everyone," I muttered darkly.

  "Everyone who is directly involved wants this to work. You cannot be completely responsible for the entirety of the lamia race."

  "It's more than that." I considered what to say, how much to share of my own recent insights. "We will have plenty of other weres stepping in to help raise these kids, lots of people to teach them how to be solid shifter citizens. But until they're grown, I will be the only adult lamia in their lives. I will be the only weresnake they can model themselves on. That feels like a lot more responsibility than simply being their counselor. In that sense, I am kind of responsible for the entire lamia race."

  "Your parents did fine with you, and they're not shifters at all," he pointed out.

  "But they managed it by encouraging me to focus almost entirely on my human side. I would like to give these children even more."

  Turning down the heat under the sauce, Kade put the wooden spoon down and made his way around to my side of the counter, where he spun the seat of my barstool around until I faced him. Then he took my face in his hands and leaned his forehead against mine. "You'll do a great job with them."

  Then he pressed his lips against my mouth.

  As usual, his kiss almost took my breath away. We hadn't been together long enough for the sense of wonder at his touch to fade. The sheer heat of our connection didn't show any signs of abating, either. The brush of his tongue against mine sent sparks shooting through my veins to pool in the pit of my stomach. It wouldn't take much to stoke that heat into a raging fire.

  But if we did that, his lovely dinner would be ruined.

  Not
that I was sure I cared.

  Breaking our kiss and pulling away just far enough so he could speak, Kade rested his forehead against mine. "You will be an amazing role model for these kids. I'm sure of it."

  I smiled and nodded, but I didn't say anything.

  The pool of heat in my belly had turned to cold lead at his words. And though I knew he meant his next words to be comforting, they didn't help, either.

  "We're still searching for other lamia survivors."

  I couldn't quite bring myself to say aloud how terrified I was at the prospect of becoming a not-quite-parent to what was looking like it was going to be an entire houseful of weresnakes.

  Or that part of me wanted to be a real parent to them.

  Chapter 2

  The next day, I left work early so Kade and I could attend a shifter Council meeting. I told my boss I had a doctor's appointment. Eventually, I would have to come up with some other excuse, or Gloria would begin to wonder if I was seriously ill.

  I refused to miss any Council meetings, though. As a new Shield, I was expected to learn everything I could about shifters and their cultures. Not that I wouldn't have done that, anyway. But even more than wanting to learn about shifters, I wanted to be there to intervene in any discussion about the lamia babies.

  Because these days, there always seemed to be someone who wanted to talk about them.

  Usually, that someone was Hank Cleveland.

  From the very first meeting I had attended, Hank had been a thorn in my side, arguing against the inclusion of any lamias in the shapeshifter community.

  Hank was also a squirrel-shifter, prone to, as Kade said, "Chattering and scolding."

  I would have dismissed the squirrel, if not for the fact that he apparently had the werewolves backing him up on this.

  The wolf pack was fairly large, and I was worried that they might put together a voting bloc to keep the babies from being treated as full shifter citizens.

  "Don't worry." Janice, the Council leader, patted me on the shoulder as she ushered me into her living room, where most meetings took place. "Half the wolves, including their alpha, are headed out to Georgia soon. Something about a territory dispute with the hyenas."

  "They have hyena-shifters in Georgia?" I asked, startled.

  "No. That's just where the wolves and hyenas are meeting. The territory is right outside of Fort Worth." Janice's blue eyes sparkled behind her schoolteacher-style glasses. I knew that when she was close to shifting, particularly under stress, her eyes turned brown. I always took her eyes being blue as a sign that she truly had everything under control. "I might have suggested a few months ago that the Houston hyena clan look into relocating up here," she continued with a grin.

  I blinked. "Remind me never to get on your bad side."

  "I told you werebadgers are badass," Kade said, having caught my last comment. He stood up from his spot on the sofa to greet me with a kiss. "What has our fearless leader done now?"

  "I'll tell you later," I said.

  From across the room, Hank sneered at me.

  I had to admit, my fear of his influence had lessened considerably when I discovered his other form was a squirrel. I had to remind myself that he had more intimidating allies.

  As usual, Hank jumped into the discussion almost as soon as Janice opened the floor for new business.

  "We have to decide what to do with the snake-brats," he announced.

  "There is a plan in place," Janice replied. I remained in awe of her ability to remain calm week after week.

  "I would like to call a vote," Hank said, again as usual.

  "You know the protocol." The entire conversation was falling into a routine. Hank had yet to put together a petition requesting a vote on the issue with the signatures of at least 20% of the voting shifters in the district. I hadn't had the nerve yet to ask how many that would be. I did know that most of the wolves had signed it.

  "Werewolves are arrogant assholes. Ignore them," Kade had advised the one time I mentioned it to him.

  It looked like I was going to be able to take that advice for another week, at least. Still, I was worried that a vote on the issue was inevitable.

  And shifters hated lamias almost more than humans hated snakes.

  I was afraid that fear would lead people to vote to treat a bunch of babies as outcasts.

  * * *

  After I left Janice's house, I met Eduardo for a training session.

  When Ed had spoken up for me at the Council meeting where they decided whether or not to allow me to remain a member of the were community, he had specifically requested that I join the Shields, the protective arm of the ruling group. It had been a strategic move, but apparently he planned to follow through on his promise to bring me up to speed as a shifter-style cop.

  So during the day, I worked as a counselor at the Children's Advocacy and Protection Center, or the CAP-C, and a few evenings a week, I got pummeled by my mentor.

  Sometimes my beatings took place when I was in serpent form and Eduardo was a werecoyote. Other times, like now, we sparred in human form in order to train me to fight under any conditions.

  Right now, my condition was exhausted, and Ed's last leg-sweep had knocked me to the ground.

  I lay there panting, unwilling to get up. "That's it," I said, wrapping my forearms across my eyes. "I quit. I'm wiped. I'm bruised. I'm all done."

  "You going to use that line the next time someone's out to kill you?" Ed circled around me, the slight smile on his lips never quite meeting his eyes. Truth be told, I thought Ed might be more cold-blooded than me, all things considered. I didn't know what it might mean that he had asked me to be on his Shield team—and had apparently specifically planned to train me himself.

  I didn't want to disappoint him, though, so I dragged myself up off the dusty ground and once again took a fighting stance.

  "Tell me again why I can't shift in the middle of a confrontation?" I asked.

  "It takes attention and energy to shift. You may not be able to spare those."

  "Right," I muttered, striking out at him with one fist and missing. Ed seemed to flow away from my hands and feet, and I was always reaching out too far, overextending myself.

  If I was such a crap fighter, why had he asked to have me on his team?

  Part of the answer was that it had been an attempt to save me.

  But there was more. I could tell. My counselor's instincts practically shouted at me to find out the reasons, that they would be important later.

  Either that, or I was too curious for my own good.

  Probably the latter.

  "Even now, you're distracted." Without any other warning, Eduardo did some complicated strike-and-twist that shoved against my shoulder and practically spun me around. That he caught me before I hit the ground only proved that I was completely inept.

  "I told you I was done," I said, hanging from his grip as if we were dancing and he had just dipped me low toward the ground. "I still have reports to write up tonight."

  The werecoyote had intimidated me even before he went all Mr. Miyagi on me. Now he practically terrified me. Only the fact that I was a reptile in my other form kept him from scenting it on me—and I wasn't even sure of that. I didn't know how long it would last, either. Kade said he was beginning to be able to discern my mood from my scent at any given moment.

  Luckily, my professional training had taught me to remain impassive in a variety of counseling situations, so I was generally also able to keep my expression clear, at least.

  Now, though, I let a little bit of my irritation shine through. "I need to go home, Ed. Let me up."

  For the first time all night, his smile made it to his eyes.

  Right before he dropped me.

  * * *

  I didn't mean to shift. Usually, Ed is right. It takes concentration and energy to change into my lamia from—not to mention a boat-load of intention.

  This time,
though, I did it unconsciously, and quickly, whipping away from Ed's hand in my serpent form before I ever hit the ground.

  All around me, bright sparkles spun and glittered indicating we were in an Earth-magic circle, one of the areas that allowed us to draw additional energy during our shifts.

  That explained why Ed had chosen this particular spot.

  Had he provoked me to shift on purpose?

  Flicking my tongue out, I pulled air in over the Jacobson's organ in my mouth that allowed me to analyze the molecules around me.

  His pleased surprise at the shift fizzed through me, crisp and light. I didn't taste any deception, didn't smell any intent behind the action.

  I had never yet met anyone who could lie with his scent.

  Doesn't mean it's impossible.

  I slithered out of the torn remains of my clothing and coiled in the dirt, continuing to assess Ed's reaction.

  "Okay, la serpiente. You've made your point. It's time to head home." Squatting in front of me, he held out one arm invitingly. "Let's go."

  Grudgingly, I twined around his forearm, hoping he would sense my own irritation. If he did, though, it didn't make any difference to his scent. All the way home, he chatted amiably, as if I were not a python in his passenger seat. And when he dropped me off at Kade's house, he simply said, "We had a hard training session. She may be too tired to shift back this evening."

  Kade's heat drew me to him, and I wrapped myself around his waist, sliding my head up and around his neck to rest on his shoulder. I stared balefully at Ed, even though I knew that my gaze probably didn't convey any emotion at all to the werecoyote.

  Not for the first time, I noticed that although other shifters also burned hotter than humans, only Kade's heat had the power to draw me in, make me want to wrap myself around him, no matter what form I was in.

  No one else's mere scent made me dizzy with desire, or caused me to shift uncontrollably—though now I could add "beating me up and dropping me to the ground" to my list of Reasons to Shift Without Warning.