Shifted, page 1
Contents
Title Page
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
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Cursed
Excerpt
Acknowledgments
About the authors
Fire Quill Publishing
First published in the USA by Fire Quill Publishing.
First Edition published in 2023
Shifted: Legacy Born Series book 1
Copyright © 2023 Adrienne Woods and Carlyle Labuschagne
All rights reserved.
Cover Design and Formatting by EB CREATIVES
Adrienne and Carlyle asserts the moral right to be identified as the authors of the work
CONDITION OF SALE
This book is sold to the condition that shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, hired out of otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any form, binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
1
SOPHIE
I never really thought much of my death. I was a teenager for crying out loud. We were infallible.
The iPad dangled between my legs as Dad said, “I love you, Sophie.” The crack of a quasi-smile from the opposite side of the video call failed. Brown slants of hair was another poor attempt at covering his worry-lines and the dark circles underneath his eyes, another giveaway. “You are in excellent hands.”
A chuckle escaped my lips as the tears rimmed Dad’s blue eyes. My fingers brushed the screen of my tablet. “When was the last time you hit the sack?”
“Don’t worry about me, just focus on the surgery. When you wake up, there’ll be no more headaches. You can go back to school. Lyla will love that.”
My lips trawled up into a smile. Lyla, yeah right! She hasn’t answered any of my texts for the past couple of weeks. “Let’s hope. Love you, Dad.”
“Love you more. Don’t let your mom yell at the doctors.”
“Hey!” Mom sat in the worn-out visitor’s chair, paging through a magazine. “I only yell when they deserve it.”
Laughter sprinkled the air as I drew an x with my finger over my chest and touched my lips before our chat ended. Laying back on the soft pillow, I stared thoughtlessly at the TV in my hospital room.
Doctors getting paged over the intercom, the constant whooshing of slippers, and rattling IVs attached to walking patients, combined with the unyielding headache, kept me out of sleep again.
My stomach twisted into knots as a tightness clasped around my chest. The heaviness became a constant companion, even in the very capable hands of Dr. Bryanston.
My gaze flickered to my mother, scanning through a magazine. Wavy blond hair—the opposite of mine—caressed her shoulders. She ripped a page from the magazine. The noise echoing through the room.
“Mom?”
“What?” Her green eyes grew, and she flipped over the torn page, revealing a crochet pattern for her collection.
A huff escaped my lips as I shook my head. She slipped the page in her handbag and gasped. “Today marks a year, Soph.”
“Hmm.” I tried to play it down. But the truth was, this day a year ago, my life changed.
The change had started with a dream of a flaming bird. Just a bird on fire, standing majestically in front of me. Then it became so vivid I could feel the heat radiate from its wings and with the heat came a song that stemmed from the life force of the phoenix. It was like a siren’s song.
It felt so real that when my eyes flew open, the pain still lingered.
It was the first time I’d woken up in the hospital and discovered that an intractable migraine had caused this pain. The killer headaches had visited regularly after that, giving a reason for my endless days in bed. The last part of the change...
The door swung open, and Nurse Colby ferried herself into my room. Her curvy hips moved side to side with each step and her furious red hair was a few flickers away from glowing. She had a sleek, black tail, swaying behind her. A tail that only I could see.
She’d become a dear friend the past four days. Colby grabbed the chart in front of my bed and attached the result of my latest scan for Dr. Bryanston.
My gaze kept lingering on her tail and I had the urge to touch it, but knew I shouldn’t.
“You know what is taking so long?” Mom asked.
“I’m sure it’s prepping the OR, Mrs. Emerson,” Colby said. “Nothing to worry about. Dr. Bryanston will be here shortly.”
Colby’s eyes flickered to me, flashed her grin—only for her favorite patients—and winked before she turned and flounced out of the room with her tail.
The worry lines my mother desperately tried to hide crinkled around her eyes.
“Relax, look for a cheesecake recipe, something that your family can actually enjoy.”
“You’re hilarious.” Mom’s tone was dusty.
I fluttered my eyelashes. “I know.”
Colby wasn’t the only one with a tail. There were others, too. Some had cat-ears, others owned a mean pair of ram horns. One guy even had an eagle beak, but they were scarce. These human-creatures walked among the ordinary folk of Tacoma, Washington and now Atlanta. Not a single word escaped my lips about what I could see, especially to Francis and Daniel Emerson, also known as Mom and Dad.
Faint bells chimed. I closed my eyes for a brief second before opening them. Oh, yeah, I forgot about the orbs of silver bright light that had appeared with the tails and ears. The faint ringing of the bells followed whenever these specks of lights soared above me. Their brightness enhanced the headaches, so I’d made it my mission to ignore them.
The tiny speck flew past Dr. Bryanston, trailing into the room. “You ready, Sophie?”
I nodded. Dr. Bryanston’s golden eyes penetrated my soul. They’d used to freak me out. Not anymore. Now they made me forget about the operation.
He whispered to Mom. Her hand rubbed her collarbone and her thin, shapely eyebrows knitted together as she listened to the words leaving the doctor’s mouth.
Colby swaggered back into the room—her tail flicking behind her—and lifted the side rails of the cot. She rolled my bed toward the door and stopped.
Mom leaned over and pressed her lips against my forehead. Her hand clasped mine as she lifted her head. The bud of a smile didn’t reach her tear-filled eyes. “I’ll be here, waiting for you, baby.”
“You can try out that crochet pattern you tore out earlier from the magazine,” I said in a flat tone. Mom closed her eyes as red dusted her cheeks. Chuckles came from the nurses and Dr. Bryanston as my eyes closed before entering the hallway with its bright lights.
Colby pushed me out of the room.
“Love you, Sophie Emerson,” Mom said.
“Love you too, you crazy woman.”
My heart hammered with every step and jostle of the bed. Please, God, let this be a success. It’s been 365 days since normal.
Goosebumps bristled my arms and my body shivered as the strong draught of sanitizer stung my nose. I opened my eyes. Light bounced off the white tiles against the walls and invisible cords strung tight through my center.
Two giant round lights—still off—announced our stop. My bed came to a halt next to the operating table and the medical staff transferred me. My heart pounded the dreadful timpani beat as nerves danced in my stomach.
Colby hooked the saline bag she carried on the silver frame next to the operating table. She slid a smirk up one half of her face as she worked fast, attaching wires to the gel pads on my chest.
Heat radiated from my cheeks, and I couldn’t hold eye contact with Colby and the other staff. What seventeen-year-old flashed her boobs? Except for the Playboy Bunnies, but I had no fluffy tail.
The LED monitor next to me mimicked the beats of my heart as Colby lowered the hospital gown.
“Hi, Sophie, I’m Dr. Blunt. I’ll be your anesthesiologist and party director on this fun cruise,” said a deep voice, coming from the top end of the bed.
Only the laughing lines at the corner of his eyes were visible as the rest of his face hid behind a mask. White hair protruded from the bouffant-style cap. He squirted liquid into my IV and placed a mask on my face.
“Sophie, time to count backwards from ten, please,” Dr. Bryanston said.
“10, 9.” My lips couldn’t finish the word eight, but I was still awake. Soft laughter filled the operating room as my mind got to 5.
Dr. Bryanston stared at me when I reached 3, 2, and 1.
My body was asleep, but the murmuring and soft chattering still reached my ears.
Dr. Bryanston’s figure remained next to my bed.
Who is Dr. Dent?
The door opened.
“You are free to leave!” An unfamiliar, deep voice barked.
Everyone got up. Even Dr. Blunt.
The shuffle of footsteps moved toward the exit. The swinging sound of doors followed, and soft chatter left the room.
It was quiet for a moment, and then the door swung open, and footsteps pelted into the room.
“Make sure you do the electroencephalography correctly this time,” the deep voice said. “We need the recording of her brain activity, especially what it shows right before she dies. Don’t mess up like last time!”
What? Dies?
“She has the gene, doesn’t she?” Dr. Bryanston asked.
Gene? Cancer, followed by an alien growing inside my head, jumped through my thoughts.
“Yes. Her ability is causing her headaches. Be glad that she has no idea that she has something powerful trying to wake up.”
My ability to do what and what is he talking about, something powerful?
“So, what do you think she is?” Dr. Bryanston asked.
What I am? I’m Sophie, who loves life and wants to carry on living without these skull-splitting headaches. Thank you very much.
“No idea, but I don’t want to be here when it shows itself. These creatures are uncontrollable. Believe me, we’ve tried everything.”
Itself and these creatures? Do I have a creature burrowed into my brain?
The heart monitor mimicked the increase in sound that pounded behind my ribcage.
“Damn it. She’s not asleep!” The man with the deep voice came into my view. Deep wrinkles outlined the corners of his nose to lips. A stern, unforgiving expression fogged his cold, brown eyes as he tapped the screen. He didn’t even wear a mask.
“No, we had put her to sleep,” Dr. Bryanston replied.
Asleep? No, this wasn’t happening. Wake up, stupid body! I tried to wiggle my toes and fingers, but nothing. I don’t want to die. Please, please, please. Mom!
Dr. Dent, or rather Dr. Death, squinted at the HRM and pressed a few buttons more before he turned his gaze to me. “It’s as if she can hear us.”
I knew it. I was experiencing some sort of out-of-body experience. The only difference was my soul didn’t leave my body. It was still very stuck to it.
“So what do I tell her mother when I give her the news that she didn’t make it?” Dr. Bryanston asked.
“It’s the brain, Bryanston. Plenty of things can go wrong.”
“She’s going to demand to see her daughter’s body! We shouldn’t be doing this.” Dr. Bryanston was sort of losing it.
Daughter’s body printed itself into my mind. Today was my last day!
Dr. Death grabbed a hold of Dr. Bryanston’s shoulder. “Get a hold of yourself! I already took care of that.”
I tried to move my arms and legs again. In my mind, I jumped off the operating table and sprinted down the hallway. I didn’t want to die. I was too young to die. My attempts were without success as squeaking wheels rolled into the room.
Dr. Bryanston left my side as Dr. Death turned back to the heart monitor. The beeping of fingers pressing buttons and a zipping sound reached my ears.
“It looks so much like her.” Dr. Bryanston’s voice came from my left.
What? Like me? A clone? No, human clones didn’t exist. The information gunned my heart into overdrive. Mom, help! God, please, please help! I don’t want to die. Mom!
“To be cautious, put her in straps.” Dr. Death eyed me.
The beat on the heart monitor flared up. A headache formed, pounding against my temples. Black spots danced in my sight.
The door crashed open.
“You shouldn’t be here!” Dr. Death said, as chairs scraped against the floor.
A ruckus exploded.
Grunts, shrieks, and dull sounds filled the room, mixed with the clinking of metal connecting with the tiles. Punches and groans with the harsh, high-pitched beeps radiated from the HRM murdered my ears.
Dr. Death worked fast. The desperate shuffling of objects moved around on the silver tray. He turned back to me and pulled the glass vial’s content into a syringe. A silver scalpel flew past and jabbed into his chest.
A grunt escaped his lips as crimson seeped through his scrubs. He didn’t stop and aimed the needle at my neck. A silver tray zoomed inches above my nose and hit Dr. Death straight on the corner of his temple, followed by the dull sound of him plummeting to the floor.
Another doctor, wearing a face mask, appeared. He stood over me, breathing hard. A white surgical style cap covered dark blonde hair. He killed the constant beeping of the monitor with a few buttons and removed the IV attached to my arm. He pressed his finger over the entry point before covering it with cotton and a plaster.
He was a lot younger than Dr. Bryanston and Dr. Dent.
His gaze met mine, and the green and brown of his heterochromatic eyes beseeched my heart to calm. He tapped my cheek. I didn’t feel a thing. “Can you hear me?”
Hard pounding came from the door. “Open this door!”
Colby!
The doctor lifted his hand to his left ear. “I found her, but they sedated her. Her vitals are reading like a corpse.”
“Open this door!” A voice came from behind the door.
Who is he speaking to? There is no one here.
“Of course, I tried to wake her up. I’m not an idiot.”
The hammering on the door became more demanding. “It’s security! Open this door, now!”
Help! My scream echoed against the walls of my mind, refusing to give up. My heart pounded as I tried to move my still body.
“I had no choice!” the strange doctor said and pulled out an earbud, one of those you see in the movies the FBI wears.
“Drake!” A faint, tiny voice blurred from the bud.
More hammering came from the door. “Stand back!” The security guard yelled.
The doors crashed open, and I saw the figure explode into a creature with a beak. Feathers overshadowed everything in the room. I had no time to investigate the transformed state of this man as darkness finally claimed me.
DRAKE
My mission: to infiltrate the facility, neutralize the threat and retrieve the asset, unharmed.
I wished I could say it started as smoothly as many a mission before.
Sure, grabbing her clothes from her room was as easy as plucking my feathers. But it looked a bit suspicious when you do it in scrubs. What doctor walks around with a patient’s clothes to the O. R?
I piled her clothes under my shirt looking like I had a dad bod, and knew Alex would never let me forget about this, but I had no choice. Alpheus just didn’t foresee events fast enough.
I was kitted out in full scrubs from head to toe, including a surgical mask to hair dusk—even the stupid booties. The staff in the hallway let me pass with ease, as I looked the part. But when I burst through the O. R doors, security immediately came . Being the creature I was, and owning the abilities I have, I knew from that moment the quest was in peril.
I kicked a chair in the way of an advancing guard, immobilizing him for a moment, while I threw a second chair at an oncoming guard with his baton, knocking him off his feet. The rod in his hand skidded over the tiles toward me.
I picked it up, ran back toward the doors and placed the baton horizontally through the bars—a trick Alex taught me that saved his ass on this side of Mavis’ shield.
More guards advanced, but I quickly knocked the short one out with a knuckled fist to his temple and swung around to grab the other guard in a chokehold till he passed out. But it was when I saw the girl, lying helpless, so still on the bed, that I lost focus for a moment and nearly got punched in the jaw by guard one. I ducked just in time and delivered a short but powerful jab to his jaw, rendering him unconscious. I gave the girl a second glance. It was definitely the girl that plagued my dreams.
