Chapter 2

Morning dawned bright and early, which is why I had blackout curtains in my room. The alarm clock started wailing soon after, which is why I set it half an hour before I actually had to get up and moving. The phone rang, but it couldn't be important because anyone that knew me knew that I didn't answer the phone this early.

But in the end, the need to use the bathroom won out over my desire to stay in bed, as it usually did.

Stretching big, the way only a cat can stretch, I threw off my blanket and rolled to my feet smoothly, making my way down the hall to the bathroom. After taking care of business, I splashed cold water on my face and took a look in the mirror.

The face that stared back at me was a light tan with high cheekbones, a gentle chin, straight nose and piercing grey eyes framed with dark lashes and brows that matched midnight black hair that hung in a tangled mess to my wrists at the moment and a wavy mess when it was brushed. In typical feline fashion, it was practically untamable.

My body was lean and toned with more muscle than was normal for a girl with natural cleavage who wasn't also body builder, though was quite average for a Shape Shifter who takes care of herself. Various scars marked my torso and back, despite the fact that I heal very quickly, remnants of my old family.

I thought about them as I went downstairs to my kitchen/dining room, in desperate need of caffeine.

My father was an Omega wolf. He was outside of pack structure, being neither dominant nor submissive and able to give peace to those around him. He was sort of like a shaman in that he was respected and honored and had a say in how the pack was run. I only got to see him a couple of times a year now.

Why? Because I'm not a Wolf. I'm not even a Were. I'm a Shape Shifter, a dappled black panther, another predator.

I'm not even sure who or what my mother is, if she's even alive.

My father's pack resides in Montana, where there's plenty of space and prey, plenty of room to run. He was out running alone on one of the various mountains that litter that region when he came across an injured woman. He took her to a pack cabin and helped nurse her back to health, staying with her until she was strong enough to move around easily. He could tell she was magical, though not what she was.

In the traditional story of injured and rescued, they'd had sex. One night, about the fifth after he'd found her, he went out hunting. She was gone when he returned.

He searched and searched for her, finally giving up when the Alpha came to find him. He'd been unable to find any trace of her; it was almost like she hadn't existed, even in the cabin they'd shared. All he had of her was a name: Alisarine.

Two years later, she appeared again, in the little cabin she'd stayed in with him. He'd been out on another solo run, which he'd done more often after the mysterious woman's appearance, and found her waiting inside, an infant cradled in her arms. Me. She handed me over in my half and half form: cat ears, tail, whiskers and retractable claws- told him my name, kissed us both and vanished again.

The only reason I wasn't killed immediately was because we smelled alike. Not exactly the same but it was obvious I was related. According to him, I am an almost perfect mix of the two of them, favoring neither one over the other. He had no idea why I wasn't a Werewolf except that maybe it was because of what my mother was.

The Alpha was not as understanding but he had little choice; he needed my father and was his friend. And a smart Alpha heeded an Omega's wishes if they wanted to keep them. Omegas were rare and my father rarer still, having enough power and talent to use his magic through the pack bond to reach wolves that weren't in his physical presence. It saved a lot of hassle and bloodshed, in the pack and out in the world.

Needless to say, growing up wasn't fun.

Despite my father's best efforts, I didn't fit in. I couldn't, being a cat among wolves; I learned that lesson early on. Not to say I didn't have friends. There were a few humans in the town the pack ran, as well as a few oddball wolves whose respect I'd won and who didn't care about prejudices.

I was constantly in fights, hence the scars and, eventually, the Alpha decided I couldn't stay anymore. Those that didn't like me (which were many) were dead set on my non-existence, whether I am gone or dead, it didn't matter, and it was making it increasingly difficult for both the Alpha and my father to control the pack. The easiest solution was to send me away. I didn't have any other family but they quickly arrived at a solution.

At sixteen, I was sent to another town like ours, though this one was a more diverse community. In Shamrock, Witches lived alongside Werewolves and Vampires, defying their baser prejudices and living together peacefully in an area that was also populated with humans. It was a training ground, of sorts, and children from all over were often fostered by the people in that community. That was eleven years ago.

I started getting around, choosing clothes at random and throwing them on. Everything I owned was simple to prevent any troubles with mismatching shirts and pants. I ran the brush through my dark hair, pulled it into a high ponytail, brushed my teeth and, after making sure I had everything, left for work.

Supernaturals aren't a secret society now, unlike some stories. We've existed right alongside every other entity for a while, maybe forever. Various wars and devastations forced out all of us and people adapted. There are still hate groups out there, but they've always been there, too.

There are five common species of Supernaturals: Vampires, Werewolves, Shape Shifters, Witches and Demons. Others have either been wiped out, gone underground or retreated from this world entirely, leaving these five to flourish in their absence.

There are laws, of course, that govern those of a magical nature, laws that keep everything in balance.

For Vampires, who feed on blood, one must either go to a club where willing donors gather and sign forms that acknowledge the risk they're taking, or they could purchase a real-synthetic mix that is sold in most grocery stores.

Werewolves and Shape Shifters have special clubs as well where they can go and socialize, but mostly they are there to accommodate them during the wolves' moon heat and the Shifters when they go into season. Most clubs do not allow humans to participate due to the greater risk of accidents that occur when they go into heat: Supernaturals heal quickly, humans mostly die.

Also, when in animal form and roaming around, Weres and Shifters are required to wear tags or something that can identify them, kind of like a driver's license. Some people opt to have an I.D. chip implanted, mostly on or behind the ear.

Witches are required to have a license if they want to sell their services or products, just like any other retailer. There are also special schools that record each student as well as their strengths and skills. A Witch can also take others on as apprentices, provided they are qualified by other Witches.

Lastly, Demons survive off Life Essence, similar to the way Vampires survive off blood and, just like Vampires, there are strict rules for feeding.

There are clubs that willing donors go to, just like blood donors, and sign wavers. These clubs are more strictly regulated than others because it is much more difficult to tell if a Demon has taken too much Life Essence from a person.

All the clubs, Vampire, Were, Shifter and Demon, deal in sex. The major rule for entering the clubs is that everyone must have regular doctor visits to ensure everyone is disease and virus free. Most doctors even provided nifty little cards to be carried around in place of medical records.

The one thing all Supernaturals share is the rules against killing. Just like humans, it is illegal to kill another being. There are special teams designed to police Supernaturals, set up inside the government systems, which strictly regulate the populace. That is on top of the hierarchy that already exists within each supernatural species, policing themselves so that incidents are kept to a minimal as well as being able to settle their own disputes.

I stopped by the city library and dropped off some books that were due before heading to work, managing to avoid the worst of the morning traffic by taking the back streets. I found a parking spot right down from the library, a lot that most of the workers downtown shared, unless they wanted to pay the meters, move their car every two hours or had found a space in one of the parking garages. Sometimes I would get lucky and find a space behind the bank across the street, but I tried not to do that too often, and not on days they were likely to be busy. It was Friday and I'd parked there two days ago, so that choice was out.

I walked the couple of blocks to the shop on the west end of Main Street, passing banks and clothing stores as well as bars who's doors were locked until lunch, stopping in front of one store with specially dressed mannequins. The male dummy was made up like a samurai, armor and all, on one side of the door, the female dummy looked like a true southern belle straight from Georgia on the other. The sign above the purple overhang read:

G & A Costumes & More!

The lettering was elegant cursive with small pictures of costumed figures as well as various plants. That was the clue. The main part of the shop was a costume store, but the "more" was the less advertised. Aunt Gene and Aunt Annie also ran a Witch supply store. Kind of hidden, it was set up in the back with its own door if one didn't want to use the front entrance or if the costume part of the shop was closed.

Witch stores aren't illegal or anything, it's just that they tend to get mobbed by those who have no clue and no business being around magical items. After watching their fellow Witches struggle to control the traffic for fully acknowledged stores, Aunt Gene and Annie decided discretion was a better idea.

Having a costume shop as a front wasn't as odd as it seemed. Most Supernaturals, Witches especially, have celebrations where special outfits are necessary and, since most places that sell magical supplies generally have a few tailors they'd recommend, it seemed logical to have everything conveniently located in one spot.

The entire store was carefully planned and organized, down to which companies we used and who was in charge of what. I was even part of that plan, which only makes sense considering I'd helped create it in the first place.

In order for them to control who was and wasn't qualified to buy their products, they needed some way to weed out the un-magical. As a Supernatural, I can recognize the nature of others. Add the feline senses I possess and I can easily tell the difference between the Supernatural races as well as the separate structures of each race, sometimes even their power levels.

That's not to say they don't have human patrons, because they do. The catch there is that the only reason people knew of this place was word of mouth and references and I cleared all of them before they ever entered the magic side of the store.

Being a magic shop, at least in part, the store had more protections than a simple lock and key.

Sliding my key into the deadbolt, I pricked my thumb with my knife and ran it over a small, innocuous groove in the door jam, releasing the security spells that were woven into the building itself as I unlocked the door.

The lights were off but enough sunshine filtered in through the tinted windows that I could see just fine, navigating through the racks of clothes and props as I headed for the counter at the back of the store, breathing in the rich smell of leather and cotton with the barely perceptible undertones of herbs from the other shop. Witches had their own scent, a mix of herbs, power and other that always reminded me of a summer storm.

I set about opening the shop, checking their part of the shop and workrooms for activity; they would sometimes leave things brewing overnight and I'd had things explode before.

I was working on re-stitching a torn seam on a pirate shirt when the first customers of the day came in, a couple of teenage Werewolf girls looking for ceremonial robes.

The robes were simple in appearance, being of a plain neck-to-floor and sleeveless pattern, closed with wooden toggles. They were 100% cotton, no animal products and cleansed with special herbs. It's what wolves wore for their rite of passage to become full members of the pack at the onset of adulthood.

Actually, it was pretty much the standard attire for magical ceremonies for all Supernaturals if you had to wear something; otherwise, sky-clad was the way to go.

It may seem odd that, being in a smaller city, a costume shop would stay in business, but that's only from a human perspective. Sure, you could go to any number of shops around Halloween and buy something off the rack or off the internet but, for Supernaturals, it wasn't so easy.

The quality of the product is always in question when you order off the Net and, if there are problems, it's a huge hassle to get them to fix it, if you could at all.