I looked at the sliver-fine pieces of plastic in my hand, then smiled and rose, quietly following the old couple. They stopped at a small brown Toyota about halfway down the ramp, the woman glancing at me as I strolled past. Her gaze swept me and her face pinched with disapproval. Clearly, she thought I was up to no good—and in that, she was right. I gave her a smile as I continued on, my hand brushing against the rear of the car and sticking the two trackers to the paintwork. Then I loped down to the next level and took the stairs back up to my bike. The knife inside my head swung back into action and I blinked away tears as I shoved on my helmet, then jumped on my bike and gunned the engine to life.

I was behind the Toyota in an instant, following it up the ramps and out the gate. The two shifters leaning against the gray Ute didn’t react when they saw me—although one touched his ear and began speaking. If they had in-ear communication units installed, then someone with money was behind all this. Those damn things cost a fortune.

I kept behind the Toyota, not wanting the men to realize that the tracker wasn’t on my bike. Only when I was absolutely sure neither car was in sight did I veer off and get the hell out of there.

But I didn’t head home.

I needed to talk to someone about what might be going on—someone who knew all about trackers, weird shifters, and would-be mugging attempts. Someone who also had a steady supply of chocolate and Coke on hand for drop-ins like myself.

My aunt Riley, former guardian and one of the most dangerous, kick-ass women I knew.

If she couldn’t help me sort out this big pile of shit I’d apparently landed in, no one could.

* * *

Riley and Quinn shared a big old warehouse in Abbotsford near the banks of the Yarra River with her brother Rhoan and his lover, Liander. Three of their five children still lived with them, but the oldest two—and the ones I was closest to—were currently undergoing training at the police academy in Glen Waverley. Riley hadn’t wanted them to become cops, but Liana and Ronan were very much their mother’s offspring. When they had their minds set on something, neither hell nor high water could convince them to do otherwise.

I drove up to the metal gates at the back of the building, then pulled off a glove and pressed my hand against the scanner. Red light swept it, then the gates swung open. I parked beside Riley’s somewhat battered Mercedes SUV and kicked the side stand out. After pulling off my helmet and dropping it onto the seat, I ran up the metal stairs and leaned on the back doorbell.

Footsteps echoed, then the door opened and Aunt Riley was standing there, her hair a blaze of red and gold in the weak sun struggling through the still-threatening clouds. Her gaze swept me, then her gray eyes narrowed, glinting dangerously. “I hope like hell you made them pay for what they did to you.”

I grimaced. “The odds were a little in their favor.”

She grunted, then stood aside and motioned me in. “Let’s get you cleaned up. You can explain what happened and who we have to chase after.”

I grinned. I might not have come here for that sort of help, but it was always nice to know she was ready to kick some ass for me. Then again, she’d always treated me like one of her own.

She slammed the door shut and fell into step beside me, her gait long and easy. She was dressed in her usual jeans and T-shirt, but her feet were bare and half her toenails were painted an iridescent orange that clashed wildly with the vivid red of her hair.

“I’m gathering Uncle Liander has found a new nail color?”

She rolled her eyes, her smile warm and amused. I’d known her all my life, and she looked as young now as she had when I was a kid. So did Uncle Rhoan. Liander was the only one who’d aged, and even then you could only see it in the fine lines around his eyes and near his mouth.

“He never wears it himself, you know. I think he just enjoys painting my toenails.”

“Well, Uncle Rhoan never sits still long enough, so I guess you’re the next best option.”

She laughed and pushed open the door that led to the huge expanse that was their main living area. It was actually very similar in design to my own place, with the metal and brick of the old warehouse in plain view, and enhanced with lots of chrome and glass. But unlike ours, this place was filled with a riot of colors, from the green and rust of the huge sofas dominating the center of the room to the cherrywood and black of the kitchen. Huge paintings were dotted around the old walls—family portraits intermingled with light frames containing rolling images of forests and beaches. Aunt Riley had become so proficient at photography that she’d recently had her first exhibition. If the success of that was anything to go by, she was going to make a name for herself in the art world.

Not that that was her aim. Shoes were her true passion, and she’d been designing her own for years now. I had prototypes of the latest line in my wardrobe, and I have to say, they rocked.

Liander was sitting on the huge glass-and-chrome coffee table in the middle of the U-shaped line of sofas, but his welcoming smile faded as he looked at me. “What the hell happened to you?”

“Some shifters decided it would be a nice day for an ambush,” I said, then changed direction as Riley nudged me toward the bathroom. “Although they weren’t actually shifters.”

“Strip and shower,” Riley ordered. “And I’ll get you some clean clothes. You,” she added, as Liander made to follow us in, “go make me a coffee and grab Ris a Coke. The explanations can wait until we get her cleaned up. Or do you want to explain to Dia why we let her little girl stand around and bleed to death?”

“I’m hardly bleeding to death,” I commented.

“That is not the point,” she said. “I’ve seen your mother annoyed. And trust me, it isn’t pretty. Go shower. I’ll be back with antiseptic.”

I stripped as she hustled Liander out the door, then stepped into the shower—which was even bigger than mine—and washed the grime and blood from my skin. It took a while, thanks to the fact that there were remnants of my discarded jeans and sweater stuck like glue to my skin.

Riley appeared as I began to towel off, clothing over one arm and a medical kit in her other hand. She dropped the clothes on the chair, then opened the kit.

“Those look like wounds from a large cat’s claws.” She grabbed the antiseptic and twisted the cap open.

I held up my arm. Though the slashes had stopped bleeding, the wounds still looked raw and bloody. I might be a crossbreed shifter, but quick healing was another of those things I didn’t quite get enough of. “They are. But the thing responsible could only take on half-cat form.”

“No explanations until I’m there to hear,” Liander called from the kitchen. “The coffee and Coke are waiting on the table.”

Riley touched my hand lightly, holding it steady as she began to spray my arm with antiseptic. The cool liquid formed a protective coating across my skin as it killed off whatever germs might be left. “It doesn’t look like it’ll scar,” she said. “You’re lucky.”

Unlike you, I thought, my gaze drifting down her left arm. Not only did she have lots of scars and a missing pinkie, but she’d partially lost feeling in her fingers—all thanks to her years as a guardian.

It was part of the reason she’d objected to Liana and Ronan becoming cops—because she hadn’t wanted them to face the hurt and scarring that she had. Of course, being a cop was far different from being a guardian, but I think she feared that might be the next step for them. They certainly had the skills for it—physically and psychically.

So did I—and it was a fact that hadn’t gone unnoticed by the Directorate. If Riley ever discovered they’d approached me some time ago, I think she’d blow a fuse.

And I’d be dead if she knew that I’d actually considered the idea, ever so briefly.

But in the end, it had been a mix of vanity, self-preservation, and more than a little fear of what I might be getting into that had made me walk away. I might be able to fight, and I might have talents that could be more than a little dangerous, but there was no way I was ever going to end up like Riley—scarred, battle-worn, and, worse still, never able to fully escape the claws of the Directorate.

“There,” she said, squeezing my hand before releasing it. “Get dressed, then come outside and explain, before Liander bursts.”

I grinned and got dressed. The faint scent of vanilla and musk clung to the clothing, meaning the jeans and the beautiful pale blue cashmere sweater I was borrowing belonged to Darci, Riley and Liander’s middle daughter—the only non-twin in their brood, and the only one who’d inherited Liander’s silver coloring. She also happened to be the only one who was close to my size. I was several inches taller than Riley or any of Darci’s siblings, and was more traditionally wolf-like in form as opposed to the lovely curves they possessed. Although at least I wasn’t completely flat-chested, like most wolves—and Darci—were.

Once I’d pulled my own boots back on, I dumped the damp hospital clothes back into my pack, then grabbed my jacket and headed out. Liander and Riley were already at the table consuming cake, but there was a bottle of Coke and another slab of thick, gooey chocolate sponge waiting for me. I grinned and sat down, feeling like a kid in a candy store and not sure what to tackle first. In the end, the need for caffeine won out.

“So,” Riley said, cradling her coffee cup between her hands as she studied me over the rim, “explain.”

I did, eating as I went, telling them everything from the reaper and his quest for my father to the attack.

“I’ve never heard of a shifter being able to partially shift,” Liander said with a frown.

Riley nodded in agreement. “It’s usually impossible to stop mid-shift and retain characteristics of both forms.”

I leaned back in the chair and lightly spun the empty Coke bottle. “I don’t think these things partially shifted. I simply think they weren’t able to take full form.”

Her frown deepened. “Did they smell like shifters?”

I shook my head. “But they didn’t smell human, either. Although the man in charge did.”

“Why would a human be interested in your father’s whereabouts?” Liander asked. “It’s not like humans can see or use the gates.”

“They can if they’re sorcerers,” Riley commented. “Although I can’t imagine a sorcerer powerful enough to see or use the gates doing his own dirty work. Did you get the license plate numbers?”

I grinned. “If I hadn’t, my teacher would have clipped me over the ear.”

“Too right.” She grabbed a pen and notepad from the counter behind her, then slid them across the table at me. “Write them down. I’ll get Rhoan to chase them down for us.”

I scrawled the numbers on the notepad, then pushed it back. “I don’t get why they’d attack me, though. Given they had my bike bugged, why wouldn’t they have just followed me, like the reaper is?”

“Is that reaper here?” Liander asked suddenly, looking around with a frown.

“He said he was keeping his distance.” Though given how much I actually knew about the reapers, he might very well be in this room, just invisible to sight and senses.

“Good,” Liander muttered, then leaned back in his chair and scrubbed a hand through his thick silver hair. It was streaked with a deep purple today, which would clash horribly with the orange nail polish if he actually decided to use it. “These people obviously bugged your bike when you were at work, so it might be best to get dropped off and picked up for the next couple of days. Especially given the hours you work.”

I wrinkled my nose at the thought of having to rely on someone else but, at the same time, I could see the sense in what he was saying. I wasn’t stupid. Nor was I looking to meet those men again soon.

“Is there any way we can find out who they might be working for?”

“I’ll get Rhoan to nose around and see if there’s any word about shifters who can’t fully shift,” Riley said. “In the meantime, you’d better head to your mom’s and talk to her about your dad.”

“But Mom’s told me everything she knows about my father.”

Riley gave me a tolerant sort of smile. “Trust me, a mother never tells her child everything about their father. There are always secrets.”

I could feel the smile teasing my lips. “So you’re saying there’s stuff about Liander that none of your children know?”

“Of course,” she said, voice solemn but gray eyes dancing. “I’m sure if they ever found out what terrible taste in nail polish he has, they’d be mortified.”

Liander scooped up a bit of chocolate cake and tossed it at her. I laughed as she ducked, her movements vampire-fast. The cake splattered across the counter behind her.

“I was testing it for an upcoming movie,” he said. “The he**ine has red hair.”

“Yeah, believing that,” Riley said drily, then glanced at me. “As to why those men would attack you rather than follow, we really won’t know until we track down the people behind the attack and talk to them.”

“What about talking to the thugs themselves?”

“If we find them, we will. But given their propensity to attack rather than talk, I suggest you keep out of their way—at least until we know who they are and what they’re up to.”

It might be the sensible option, but it wasn’t one that was likely to get me any answers. I whirled the Coke bottle around again, watching the reflections dance in a dozen different directions. Sort of like my thoughts.