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“No, an old witch found his dead body downriver, brought him back to life by draining the life force out of a local beggar, named the babe after the waters which brought him, and taught him the darker magical arts. After a shifter murdered his adoptive mother, he became the creature he is today. Every drop of magic he has comes from death or destruction.”

“And shifter magic doesn’t?” I asked, shivering at the memory of the sound of crunching bone that always accompanied a change.

He chuckled. “Nah, our magic always makes a body more than they were before. The talents we have don’t destroy. Ye know about healing, but others have the ability to discern truth or intentions, and there are varying degrees of all.”

“Ah.” I had so much to learn about everything. “When was all this with Acheron supposed to have happened? ”

“During the Middle Ages. Maybe 1000 C.E.”

“So, you’re telling me Acheron is over a thousand years old?”

Jasper shrugged and took several bites of the warm stew. “That’s what they say. I’ve never met him, so I can only tell you what others have said.”

“If it’s true, how is he still alive? Some special concoction of bitterness and spite?”

Jasper’s yapping laughter echoed through the den. “It’s probably a grand tasting brew he drinks every morning.”

“But seriously?”

“Lass, ye didn’t believe in shifters last week.”

Well, he had a point.

“Say I believe this jerkface is a thousand years old. What brought him out of Greece and here to Louisiana?”

“Dr. Wise was able to piece together something about an eternally burning hatred for the descendants of the shifter who killed his witch of a mother.”

“Which clan is that?”

“Care to venture a guess?”

“Six-Mile?”

“Care to guess which shifter is the primary descendant in direct lineage?”

“Logan?”

Leader of a huge shifter pack, moody, broody, muscular, and the object of a centuries-old vendetta. No wonder I had the hots for him.

“Smart lass, aren’t ye?” He grinned at me.

“Really, most of us in the area are related,” he said.

“Our clans intermingle from time to time, and we all share shifter genetics from the French settlers who decided to settle ‘New France.’ Acheron hates all shifters, and he won’t rest until he’s done away with us.

If ye go back far enough, we’re all koo-zahns. ”

“Cousins,” I said, shaking my head. I’d heard a little Cajun French in Willow Creek but not much. We were too far from Natchitoches and New Port Orleans, the oldest of the French settlements in Louisiana. “Did I hear something about shifters in New Port Orleans?”

“Aye,” he said. “There’s a big cat pride in New Port Orleans . They like to pretend they’re the only big cats around.”

“Is there any place that doesn’t have shifters in Louisiana?”

Jasper tugged on his ginger beard, grinned, and shook his head. “No, I’d say not. We hide in plain sight throughout most of the world.”

“So, what happens if the other shifter clans aren’t interested in uniting behind me to beat Acheron? They must all know he’ll come after them.”

“Ye multi-shift in front of them and shut them up. That should about do it.”

“Easy for you to say.” I held up my cell. “Guess it’s time to make a call.”

“When ye get finished, we’re back to training, so make yer lie a good one.”

As I trudged toward the surface, the reality of the task in front of me settled on my shoulders. It wasn’t going to be easy, and I had too much to learn. I couldn’t stop the churn of thoughts chugging along in the background while I dialed my mom.

My mom answered after one ring. “Emma! Is that you? Where have you been?”

“Yeah, Mom. It’s me.”

“Oh, thank God, Emma. Why haven’t you called? I’ve been worried sick.”

“I know. I’ve just been taking some time to get my practice taken care of so I could do something I’ve been talking about trying for a while.” I paused. “So, guess what! I have some news.”

“Oh? What’s that? What on earth could be your excuse for not answering me?”

“I didn’t want to tell you until it was a sure thing, but I’ve been offered a chance to learn in that New Port Orleans veterinary emergency operating room, and I’m going to take it.

It’s like an internship, so I’ll be gone for a while.

Riley and Shannon let my patients know, and they’re helping them get scheduled for later times on my calendar, and they’re referring the emergencies to another vet.

” At least the last part was mostly true.

“Do you really think that’s a good idea?” My mom sounded dubious.

“I’m going to be learning next-level surgical procedures. It’s the best way I know how to take care of the pets of Willow Creek in the best way I can.”

“How long will you be gone?”

“Six to eight weeks,” I said, hoping that was enough time to get everything sorted out with the shifters. It’d at least give me enough time to come up with another explanation to give her. “And it’s going to be pretty immersive, so I’ll call every chance I get, but it might not be much.”

“Ah, I see,” she said, already disappointed. “I’m not sure what to think about all your recent changes, Emma Carter.”

“Mom, I’ve always been a good kid,” I began. “Just trust me on this. I’m not doing drugs or doing anything else I shouldn’t be. Just give me some time. Okay?”

“I’m not sure…”

“Trust me, Mom.”

Her response was noncommittal, and a few minutes later, I ended the call abruptly, knowing I wouldn’t be able to convince my mother anything was a good idea, not while I was still distracted by everything I had yet to do. The future of the shifter world rested on my shoulders.

But I couldn’t get Logan out of my head, and I’d been the multimorph for all of a week. In that moment, I decided I was living out the most disorganized prophecy I’d heard about, even if it was the only one I’d ever personally witnessed come true.

Whoever was in control of doling out shifter magic had made a gigantic mistake.