Hearts of the Hunted by Storm Moon Press

Chapter 1
     
     
    I was naked on the city streets, but thanks to my particular
skills at camouflage, no one gave me a second look—or even a first
one. The Transformation takes us all differently; I've seen some
people who grew horns or fangs or turned awesome colors, but while
those things may be useful in their own way, they don't help with
blending in. And in the Midwest, where bigotry and fear rule the
day, blending in with the normals is usually a matter of life or
death.
    That's what makes me a
perfect agent of the Underground Railroad—I can blend in anywhere.
I slid down the sidewalk slowly, hugging the walls to avoid being
touched or bumped as I moved invisibly through the city. I have
never been able to figure out if my skin refracts light or changes
colors or something else I haven't even thought of, but what I do
know is that when I want to hide, no one can see me unless I move
too quickly.
    When I got to the fire
escape on the back of the building I wanted, I let myself pick up
the pace. Even when I'm moving at normal speed like this, I'm just
a blur, and even if someone happened to be looking at the fire
escape as I was going up, they weren't going to do anything about a
little blur in their vision across the street.
    Once I was on the roof, I
grabbed my waterproof backpack from where it had been stashed on
top of a maintenance shed, chinning myself up on the edge to reach
it and scraping my elbow on the way down. I thought of how Riley
would have scolded me for the way I take chances, but Riley was
long gone, retired to Canada three years ago, and I'd taken up the
job he'd left behind.
    I hurried into my clothes
and reappeared as I carried my backpack with me down the stairs and
into the building.
    Janelle Thomas was the
wealthy young widow of some banker, and was generally assumed to be
an idler who spent her days puttering about her string of
apartments and condos, wasting her money and her time. My friends
and I knew her as a supporter of the Underground Railroad that
helped moved Transformed people and families across the border to
Canada, where they would be safe.
    "Camille!" she exclaimed,
jumping up as I let myself in. I could pick her lock almost as fast
as I could use a key, but she'd given me one anyway as a matter of
courtesy. "Where have you been?"
    I sighed and dropped onto
the couch. "Meeting with a bait family," I grumbled.
    "Oh, God! Were you
followed?"
    I gave her a look but
declined to comment, and she blushed. "I showed up half an hour
early, which was obviously way more than they were expecting,
because they actually drove this little family to the meeting point
and gave them one last briefing right there in the parking lot." I
rolled my eyes, but it was this level of sheer stupidity that was
why the Railroad hadn't been crushed already, so I owed them some
gratitude.
    "I'm sorry, Camille, but
this is just going to happen sometimes. It's not like we can put an
ad out in the newspaper." There were certain people out there who
didn't care one way or the other, or who just hated violence, and
they could be paid to keep an eye and an ear out for anyone trying
to get away, and pass their names to us. But it was hard to find
the ones who needed us, and there were plenty of people who had
been Transformed but who had no intention of ever moving away from
the places they'd lived their entire lives.
    "I think we may need to
stop operating here, or at least take a break. We got a few
families out last year, and things seem to have settled," I said.
There were other places to play hero. Or maybe Riley had been
right, and it was time to just mind our own business and let people
take care of themselves.
    Janelle opened her mouth
to answer, but a knock on the door distracted both of us. I glanced
at her, and she shook her head slowly—not expected. Okay. I waited
a few seconds, peeked through the peephole, and saw a goddess. Her
hair was strawberry blonde and fell in red-gold waves just short of
curly,