His Ghost

Blue Eyes. 1

My father had told me there was no lower rank or worse place to be than a pack house kitchen. But if you get drafted into a pack, I must be dead. Volunteer for the

Kitchen immediately; no one ever does. There is no better place to gain acceptance, protection, and, most important, information.

It is always the roughest diamonds, but they will protect you as an enforcer unit does each other. And that's what I did.

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I swung open the heavy Oak door at the back of the Kitchen, greeted by the blare of metal music. Today was Greta's turn to control the playlist, and I couldn't help but smile. Amidst the chaos of the Kitchen, there was a wolf whistle that caught my attention.

"Hey there, Blue Eyes. You are late?" With his heavy Italian accent, Tony, our sous chef, boomed at me over the music. It was too early for heavy metal; it was too early for Tony.

I raced to my station, tying on my apron while dodging the guys delivering today's produce from the Estates farm, or 'The Orchard'. as they called it. I never understood why not call it the farm. The Orchard was small in comparison to the vegetables and herbs it grew.

The delivery guys had to weave through all the stations to the back cold rooms. Tony always cursed the Kitchen layout and the poor delivery guys if they bumped into him.

I glared at Tony, who was the reason I was late. He, Greta, and Clay had all turned up in my room with a bottle of vodka last night. I was not a good drinker and had declined the endless parties in our lodge. Last night, they would not take no for an answer.

He grinned as we locked eyes. I responded with a middle finger. Clay, standing next to him, laughed. Greta shot me a reassuring wink; she knew how much I avoided attention.

The kitchen contract team was small - five members, including Greta and head chef Viktor. Viktor took Greta under his wing two years ago, and she's been travelling with him since. The team arrived six months ago when I did. It was my stroke of luck that Viktor recognized me and chose me over twenty other shifters to assist his team.

He had a selection of forty of us to choose from, and I was the only volunteer. They were the first known all-shifter and ex-enforcer team of trained professional cooks. The new Alpha chose them to support his policy. He wanted Estate residents to be multi-skilled. He also wanted them to train and defend the Estate in their free time.

There had been a surge in attacks from rogues and other packs wanting more land across the shifter world in Northern America. Everyone was on edge. The shifter council had no answers and was notably quiet. Whispers said the old families were behind the attacks. They wanted to take back land from the new young packs.

The conspiracy theorists, in my opinion, were onto something. As far as I was concerned, all Shifters were shifty. I was not a shifter. No one here knew that except Viktor, his team and the old Alpha, Richard Benson, Carter Benson's father.

Viktor had known my father and Uncle; I knew he would not say a word.

Carter Benson had recently taken over his father's position as Alpha. Everyone anticipated significant changes, for better or worse. I knew they weren't friendly to lone wolves, latent shifters, or those who were defenceless. I landed at my station; case in point, I thought as I looked at Tia.

Tia was always early. I gave her a comforting smile, hoping she knew things could improve if she tried harder.

Tia was a sleeper. It's a common term for someone born with supernatural powers. They're raised in the human world without knowing their true identity.