“I was only kidding,” I say. “Though that look… priceless.”
Troll Amber’s actual look? Furious bordering on homicidal. So typical troll. And absolutely hilarious.
“Not funny, Zoe!” Troll Amber pouts. But the Pouting Troll look does it, and I can’t help it. I burst out laughing.
Troll Amber giggles—which is not a sound you ever want to hear from a troll—and shifts back. Then she takes another sip from her vial. And shifts into a demon, an elk, and a tiny male pixie in quick succession.
“What’s in the vial?” I narrow my eyes on it. It has the same Highway to Spells logo as the ice pack, which means it must be some sort of potion.
“Painkiller,” Pixie Amber—who’s an oddly attractive little guy, despite having pink skin and translucent wings—holds up the now much smaller vial in silent salute.
“Wait!” I cry, but it’s too late.
Pixie Amber downs the remaining contents and her Chameleon powers go haywire.
First, she shifts into one of the male strippers I’ve seen at Club Vee. He’s shirtless, with low-riding jeans that show off midnight-blue skin and six-pack abs. Amber’s gaze snaps down to his crotch, her cheeks turn dark purple in an obvious blush, and she shifts into an elk.
“Weird junk?” I ask, and I don’t mean the elk. Though, I do wonder what elk shifters have down there.
Elk Amber responds with a series of short, loud grunts and shifts into a little girl.
I know it’s still Amber beneath the cute space buns and sparkling purple Converse, but talking to a kid about a man’s crotch seems all kinds of wrong.
“So now that I’m here, how can I help?” I quickly change the subject. “Do you want me to bring you anything? Some food? A blanket?”
I almost add crayons. I mean, she does look eight, even if logically, I know she’s still Amber.
She shifts back into an elk and shakes her head furiously. Hard to tell if she’s trying to communicate, or if head-shaking is an elk shifter thing. I choose to assume the former. I mean, she can still nod, even in animal form.
“We could head back to Highway to Spells and see if there’s an antidote. Unless you want to wait it out,” I suggest.
“I’m sure it’ll wear off any minute,” Amber, who’s shifted into a guy wearing headphones, says hopefully. Then she shifts again. And neighs. Because horse shifters do that. In animal form, at least.
I nod in agreement, even though I’m not too sure. Some spells may wear off right away, but others last days, or weeks, or even years. Not that I’m about to freak Amber out by saying so.
“Do you think you could make me a cappuccino?” Troll Amber asks hopefully.
“Iced,” Yeti Amber adds.
“I’d do it myself, but…” Regular Amber gestures at her swollen ankle before shifting into a mouse.
I resist the urge to rub my temples and nod.
Making her drink isn’t a problem. I’ve helped out at the cafe before, so I know where everything is. But when I’m done, I’m not quite sure what to do with her cup. Okay, yes, I know what to do with it in theory… but in practice, not so much. If I tried to hand it to Shifter Roulette Amber, I’d just have another mess on my hands. One that would probably require a mop.
I set her iced cappuccino on the counter instead. At a safe distance from Elk Amber, who lets out a loud bark. Then I get to work on my Mood Tea. And infuse my drink with magic, of course. Not because it needs it—Mood Tea comes pre-made—but because a Mood Tea is like a Mood Ring. It reveals each and every one of your emotions the moment you feel them, and I definitely don’t need that.
The best part? No one in Silver Springs knows I can manipulate Mood Teas. Not even Amber.
“You’re really not worried, huh?” She regards my drink, which should be turning orange, but is taking on a pink, happy hue instead.
I shake my head. And lie through my teeth. “Of course not.”
No sense in both of us freaking out.
“Can you make hot chocolates for Julian and the det—” Amber shifts into a cow mid-word. “Mooooo.”
“Det what?” I frown.
Cow Amber snorts, shakes her head, and swishes her tail.
I sigh.
Then she shifts into Julian, who looks as frustrated as I feel. “Detective! I was trying to say detective.”
“What detective?”
“The one Julian went to get,” Julian Amber says. To an outsider, it would look like Julian talking about himself in third person.
I snort. “Why would Julian need a detective?”
“Look, Zoe, don’t freak out…” Amber starts. Then she shifts into an elk.
“You can’t just say something like that and then shift,” I protest, intentionally letting my Mood Tea turn orange with worry.
“Sorry!” Amber shifts back into Julian, whose cheeks flush pink. “And there really is nothing to freak out about. Everything’s going to be fine.”
“What’s going to be fine?” I demand as she shifts again. Luckily into the Yeti, and not an elk or a cow.
“There’s been a series of robberies…” She shifts into her sister’s mate, Liam the Troll—police uniform and all.
“Someone robbed Jewels Cafe?” I ask, looking around. Everything looks normal to me, but it’s not like my magic gives me X-ray vision to see inside the cash register.
“No.” Amber shakes her head. “A bunch of other shops throughout town… all ones the Cleanly Den has contracts with.”
“My Cleanly Den?” I demand, even though the Cleanly Den technically belongs to Wes. Okay, not just technically… Amber’s mate owns it, and I just work for him, but the Cleanly Den means everything to me.
“Liam had to bring Wes in for questioning,” Amber, who’s still shifted into the Liam in question, explains.
I don’t even crack a smile.
“He’s going to want to talk to you next, but he said it’s just a formality.”
I nod. “Don’t worry. The police will catch the real thief.”
“I hope so,” Yeti Amber says. “But I’m more afraid word will get out. If people find out someone’s robbing the Cleanly Den’s clients…”
“…no one will hire us anymore,” I finish for her.
“Which would be bad for business.”
“It would.” And I could end up losing my job, though Amber doesn’t say so. She doesn’t have to.
“But that won’t happen.” She shifts back to herself, the worry reflected on her face belying her words. “Liam promised us he’ll find the real thief. And Julian went out to hire a detective just in case. All you need to do is tell the man everything you know about the Cleanly Den, and I’m sure he’ll figure this out before anyone in town finds out.”
Chapter Two
Xavi
I grimace as I rush across Main Street. Last thing I need is to shift in the middle of traffic. Again. Or in the middle of the sidewalk. For the eighth time. Yes, I’m keeping count.
I wouldn’t get hurt—that would require a speeding semi—but I’d take up half the road. And impede traffic. And cause everyone to stop and stare at me. Man, I’d do anything to avoid those stares.