Page 40

I won’t, of course. Because he’s also weird as fuck, and the guys can’t stand him.

But that doesn’t stop me inhaling sharply as his hand brushes my hip.

Behind me, Tanner is the one who whispers in Thornfield’s ear. “We’re here for your help, that doesn’t mean we’ll put up with your shit, Professor.” I turn to see Tanner fixing his gaze on Thornfield’s. “Touch her again, and you’ll find out exactly how many ways I can make you pray for a stake in the heart to relieve your suffering.”

Thornfield’s lips twitch. He nods his head in a short, sharp stroke, but does not reply with words.

As the others follow, I step into a dimly lit space that feels like we’ve just walked into another universe. The air is cool and heavy, like in old libraries or churches. In front of us, a shimmering barrier that I recognize as high-level protection magick.

“This,” Thornfield says, spreading his arms to encompass the vast space, “is my private collection. Only supers are privy to its existence. A storehouse of artefacts, histories, and relics that the human world isn’t ready to handle.”

I pass through the barrier and stop at the top of a large iron staircase. It winds down into a large hall, full to the brim with objects and books. I try to take it all in.

“Please, go ahead…” Thornfield gestures to the staircase. “Take a look.”

I descend slowly, Mack, Tanner and Kole at my heels. Snow so close to Mack he’s almost fused to his leg.

As we venture deeper into the concealed section of the museum, Thornfield gestures to a series of towering bookcases. “This section is dedicated entirely to shifter lore,” he says proudly. “I have written many books on the subject. Not that you’ll find any upstairs.” He almost rolls his eyes but then seems to stop himself.

“I’ve read many of your works,” Mack says.

Thornfield nods. “As I’d expect from a fellow scholar,” he says, a note of condescension in his tone.

Mack is about to reply when I notice Snow pace away from him. Mack calls him back, but Snow ignores him. He walks several paces then stops, staring into the shadows at the end of the row of bookcases.

“Ah, yes.” Thornfield claps his hands, and a spotlight is illuminated.

“What the…?” Mack breathes.

I inhale sharply.

Encased in glass, a skeleton stands erect, large and imposing. But is unlike any I’ve ever seen. At first glance, it looks human, but there’s a wild, feral twist to it.

“What is it?” I ask, my fingers brushing lightly over the glass as we come to a stop directly in front of it.

Thornfield’s eyes gleam with pride. “Ah, this is one of the rarest pieces in my collection. A tiger shifter. In its human form.”

I tilt my head, trying to reconcile the differences.

“See,” he says. “The skull, though predominantly human, has an elongated jaw, equipped with pronounced canine teeth reminiscent of a tiger’s lethal fangs. The eye sockets are slightly larger, hinting at the predatory gaze of the big cat. The finger bones are also elongated, the joints more pronounced, suggesting a structure that could extend into formidable claws. But it’s the legs that truly fascinate me.” He taps the glass, diverting my gaze to the skeleton’s lower half.

“While the thighs and calves are unmistakably human, the foot structure deviates. The heel bone is raised, the structure indicating a semi-digitigrade stance, like the poised foot of a tiger ready to pounce.” Thornfield looks at Mack, as if expecting him to be surprised. “The ribcage is slightly expanded too, of course – perhaps for a more significant lung capacity – and the spine…”

I trail my gaze along the vertebrae.

“Notice the elongated tailbone, not a mere stub as humans have but a remnant of something once full and expressive.”

“It’s…” I can’t find the words.

Kole interrupts me. “It’s irrelevant to our problem.” He steps in front of the glass and folds his arms.

“Not so,” Thornfield shakes his head, eyes flashing with annoyance. “These remains serve as a reminder of the shifter’s unique nature—the constant tension between the human and the beast. Notice the pelvis and the way it’s structured? Built for bipedal movement but adapted for the powerful, ground-covering strides of a tiger.”

“I still don’t—”

Thornfield’s jaws snap with annoyance. “This,” he says, rapping his knuckles on the glass, “should prove to you how impossible it is for a shifter to be separated from his animal counterpart. They are one. Inextricable from one another.” He looks again at Mack and Snow. “Yet, here you are.”

With a sigh, Thornfield rests his palm on the glass and looks at Mack. “Your kind have always been an integral part of our supernatural world. Bears are rare, but you function much the way other non-wolf shifters function. Your connection with your animal counterparts is profound, woven by the threads of ancient magick. To separate a shifter from their animal is to sever their life force, their essence. It has never been done because it is understood to be a violation of the natural order.”