by Lela Grayce
With a grin on my lips I meandered over to where I kept Zazu’s food and bowls. I froze when I saw his bowl was overflowing with dry cat food, so much that it resembled a small mound. My grin dropped into a frown but for the life of me I couldn’t remember filling his bowl like that, ever.
Zazu wandered into the room and made a beeline for the food mound. Still frowning, I watched him eat for a minute but no matter how hard I tried I couldn’t remember doing this. I’d lost the past three days somehow and seeing evidence besides dates unsettled me.
The coffee pot in the kitchen beeped, jerking me from my thoughts. I rubbed a hand down my face, wiping the cold sweat on my hoodie and tried to pull myself together.
I’d never lost time like this before. After a treatment I was known to sleep for a long time which was different. I was rested but this time I seemed to have slept but had no memory of feeling like I needed that much rest.
I shuffled into the kitchen thinking back to the last thing I remembered while grabbing a mug and pouring coffee. Leaving my mug on the counter I walked to the fridge and grabbed my favorite cinnamon vanilla creamer, an eighteen count of eggs, cheese, ham, and milk. After stirring in the right amount of creamer, I replaced it in the fridge then set about cracking eggs into a big bowl. I added the milk, cheese, and seasonings before dumping the whole thing into a big skillet that sat on the transparent glass stove top.
While I swirled the beaten eggs around, my thoughts turned to the pressing issue about me losing time. The memory of my doctor's appointment came easily to mind, followed by the bus ride out of the city, then things started to get hazy. Hopefully, I didn’t do something stupid like sneak onto the Brigg’s estate and photograph his extinct animal collection. It was something I’d always wanted to do but was too chicken to actually do it but now that I was dying… again.
No, I couldn’t think like that. I had survived this once, I could do it again. Just thinking of the battle ahead had my shoulders slumping. This disease was exhausting and draining to the extreme. I was still tired from the last treatment and that had been nearly ten months ago. Tears sprang to my eyes as I thought about all I had fought for just to have it return more aggressively.
Not just Supernaturals and Chias came through during The Surge. Diseases followed that affected the humans, and since Mutts had a bit of humanity, we were susceptible too. That’s what I had, an illness that attacked my human side that my supernatural side couldn’t do anything about. The closest thing we had to this new disease strain was cancer. There was research looking for a vaccine but there wasn’t enough funding. There were hundreds of germs and viruses that came through. Other worlds were dirty.
I added cheese and ham to one side of the giant omelet I was making for my impromptu guest. While the egg cooked further and the cheese melted, I grabbed diced onions from the fridge and added a generous portion on top of the ham. Once the cheese was gooey, the egg fluffy and golden on the bottom, and with a spatula in each hand, I expertly flipped to the other side. When it didn’t break, I did a fist pump in the air knowing Lyndee would be excited that I had overturned it without breaking it. She did the majority of the cooking around here, but I could hold my own, barely.
The omelet slid out of the skillet and onto a serving plate perfectly, which made me wish I had my camera. Leaning over the counter I placed the giant omelet in front of my guest followed by a napkin and clean fork. His milk chocolate eyes lit up as he dug in. I tried not to smirk at the predictability of shifters. They were always hungry and would ignore everything else while they shoveled food into their mouths like it might run away at any moment.
Sipping my coffee, I leaned against the counter opposite the hungry tank and studied him, trying to figure him out. His hair was curly and the color of a forest floor after it rained. He was handsome, in a rugged sort of way, that made girls like Lyndee swoon. Not me. I tended to go for the quiet but deadly type. The silent bad boy. This guy looked mean, but I bet he had a warm nuggety center.
He was nearly a full-blooded shifter which was surprising. Full shifters didn’t mix with Mutts or any race really. They lived and breathed to serve the dragons. They guarded them, protected their assets, and killed ruthlessly in their name. Shifters were hated by all the races that came through in The Surge, but I believed that stemmed from fear.
Zazu jumped onto the counter and sat his ugly butt down and studied our guest much like I was doing. Zazu could be annoying but his most redeeming quality, there weren’t many, was that he was loyal and next level protective. When guests showed up on my doorstep, he usually followed me around and became a guardcat, hissing and spitting on whomever got too close. The fact he sat on the counter so close to the shifter instead of curling around my feet meant something. He’d never done it before, so I wasn’t sure what to make of it.
When half of my coffee was gone the shifter had finished his omelet. He wiped his mouth, set down his fork, and took a sip of coffee before turning his attention to my Chia. He smiled and clicked his tongue inviting Zazu to come closer. The devil spawn didn’t move but a soft sound came from his chest. I choked on my swallow of coffee at the purr coming from him.
“He’s never done that before,” I muttered after clearing my throat. This was beyond strange even for him.
“He’s an interesting creature. Not many came through in The Surge and their numbers have dwindled since. It’s good to see there are still some around,” he said, scooting his plate to Zazu who started licking at the remnants of the omelet. Soft brown eyes turned to look at me and a frown pulled down his lips before his cheeks tinted red. “I forgot I wasn’t supposed to speak. Not sure why though.”
“Uh, you’re here to be evaluated. Didn’t Gavin explain that?”
“Who’s Gavin?” he asked, wrapping his large hand around the mug, a twinkle in his eye that I didn’t like.
“If Gavin didn’t send you, then what are you doing here?” An unsettled thought occurred to me, he was a shifter and shifters only did what the dragons commanded. The color drained from my face thinking of all the times I had rode out to the estate where animals were rumored to be. I’d left my scent all over that place.
“I was sent but not by whoever Gavin is,” he replied, being intentionally vague but we both knew whose command he followed.
Stupid, stupid, stupid!
The moment I saw him and realized he was a full shifter I should have slammed the door in his face and locked the place down, but I didn’t because of the text message.
I invited my murderer into the penthouse.
“I’m not here to hurt you.” His big shifter’s hands rose in a placating gesture. No doubt he could hear my heart beating at a rapid tempo.
“That’s exactly what someone who wanted to hurt me would say.” I gulped as I looked at what would likely be my death in the eye.
“Uh… why would someone who meant you harm tell you they didn’t?”
“To put the victim into a false sense of security. Better to get information from someone who thought there might be a chance they would live.”
He blinked and I could almost see the cogs in his brain working out my meaning. I knew shifters were for the muscle, dealing out the dragons dirty work, but this one might have a screw loose. Must be his first day.
“Your Chia doesn’t seem to mind me,” he said, like having Zazu’s permission meant something. I snorted looking at my menacing Chia still licking his plate clean. My hero.
“Yeah, like I’m going to trust my pet in regards to your character.” I rolled my eyes wondering if this conversation was really happening.
“Look.” He softened his voice, brown eyes imploring me to believe him. Fat chance, buddy. “What’s the last thing you remember?”
“Drinking my coffee.” I held up my mug in case he missed it, which would be difficult as it had bright neon colored flowers on it with the words “workin’ harder than an ugly stripper”. The only mugs in this penthouse were of the offensive variety.
>
“No, what’s the last thing you remember from three days ago.” He rubbed his temples like I exasperated him.
“Uh, why? That’s kind of a personal question.” It sort of was I meant if I was talking to my friends, I’d totally tell them, but I didn’t know him and I still hadn’t been convinced he wasn’t here to murder me.
“Where’s your camera?” He huffed, looking around while I endured a moment of panic before I remembered that most people had cameras, so asking to see one wasn’t entirely abnormal. Still weird, though.
I had several cameras actually, including the ones placed in the hallway outside and in other strategic locations in the penthouse. Syd was serious about security not a perv. I also had one on my cell, a small digital style on my dresser, and a professional photography version tucked safely in my bag along with my special antique camera.
“It was in a bag?” He lifted an eyebrow at me and all the blood drained from my face. How did he know that?
“Can you read minds?” I asked terrified that he could.
“Do I look like a fairy to you?” he asked, offended.
The Fae Folk were second from the bottom as the least dangerous of all the species who came to Earth during The Surge, the lowest being witches. Fae were nature and animal lovers like post-apocalyptic hippies. While they did have magic, it was geared more toward stuff like plant growth, crystal charging, and psychic abilities. Reading minds and having future sight was common and why they had made a home here as gardeners, landscapers, and physic readers.
“No…” I said, dragging the word out.
“Go get your camera, Nik. It will prove what I’m saying is true.”
I was seriously freaked out now. How did he know my name? How did he know I had a camera? Is there a picture on there that he needs? I don’t remember taking pictures of anything I shouldn’t. I really wanted to, but I’d always been scared to sneak onto the dragon’s estate.
“You can take the camera.” I swallowed, having no idea what to do to get out of this situation. I was dying but I wanted to live for as long as I could.
He sighed deeply, then stood up and walked into the living room. I tried to get Zazu’s attention, but he just looked at me deadpanned before jumping down and following Mr. Grumpy-Murder-Shifter. Why did I even bother keeping that mangy animal anyway?
I set down my coffee intending to follow both of them into the living room to do what? I wasn’t sure. Stop him from rummaging in my pantie drawer? With that thought giving me strength, I took two steps away from the counter before the big brute waltzed back in, followed by my traitorous pet. The black camera bag was in one hand, while my camera was in the other. He put the bag on the counter before holding out the camera for me with the screen already lit.
Grabbing it, I hugged it to my chest for a moment. I loved this camera! If it came down to the camera or my life, I’d choose life, but I would whine about it.
“Three days ago, you snuck onto the Briggs’ estate and made your way to the animal enclosure,” he explained as I held the camera and started scolling through photos.
An elephant standing in a pond surrounded by mud was the first picture. I gasped looking at the magnificent animal before flipping to the next one that showed the same elephant spraying water onto it’s back with it’s long trunk. Tears sprang in my eyes as I continued to see rare and exotic animals that were very likely the last of their kind. It broke my heart just thinking about how lonely it must be to be the last one. The Surge was a terrible event that had a negative impact on Earth, and no one seemed to care which always made my blood boil.
Through the camera lens I saw the most beautifully wild creatures. Never in all my years of standing at the edge of the estate did I think I’d ever see what I was right now.
“You stayed in the enclosure all day and eventually fell asleep on a bench.”
“How did I get home?” I asked, running my finger over the picture of a lion sunbathing in the grass inside it’s enclosure.
“That’s the tricky part,” he said shifting his weight from foot to foot while running a hand through his hair. “You were found by someone and you’re lucky he found you instead of Briggs. He knew you were sick and decided to help you.”
A flash of memory hit me then and I pictured an old man, eyes rimmed red, drinking blood from my wrist.
“I remember… sort of.”
“Memory loss is a natural side effect. When you fell unconscious, I was called to return you to your home,” he said, his voice soft with something like kindness.
“I don’t understand.” And I really didn’t. A creepy, old dude decided to suck on the wrist of a sleeping stranger, then had the courtesy to order for help to return me home safely? What sort of backwards shit was this?
“It's difficult to explain and I’ve done a horrible job of it so far, but I can assure that I will not harm you. We want to help you.”
I started laughing hysterically. Who wouldn’t? This all sounded crazy, so crazy that I wondered if I had been drugged.
The shifter frowned again and it just made me laugh more. I wiped tears from my eyes and finally managed to pull myself together.
“So how does drinking my blood help me exactly?” I raised my eyes to his.
“You’re sick. My employer realized the extent of your disease and decided to help you. It’s an honor. He doesn’t do this with just anyone and never to a… uh, Mutt.”
“I’m so confused,” I said glancing at the camera in my hand. I couldn’t have gotten these pictures anywhere else but at Briggs estate. If this was a trick it was really elaborate and impressive.
“He saw something in you worth saving,” he said gently, and for a second, I wished that this was all true. But no one could heal me. I’d tried but my abilities didn’t work on myself. No one was going to help a Mutt like me.
“No one can heal me. It’s too widespread and aggressive. I don’t think I have it in me to fight again. I'm not even recovered from my last fight.”
“Do you know what a Varitan is?” He crossed his arms and leaned his hip on the counter, his body angled toward me.
“Nope,” I lied.
Varitans were beings whispered about in the dark of night during stories meant to scare children into behaving. Varitans were the good guys: guardians of innocents, protectors, and healers. They fought the bad things that came out at night.
Unfortunately, the Pure bloods of the different races were tight-lipped about where these stories originated. There were tons of them and through the decades the stories had integrated into society. Much like how Santa Clause had been adopted by other countries around the world, the Pures put their own spin to them, but it was mostly the same.
“You know I can tell when you’re lying.” His nostrils flared. I had forgotten that Shifters could smell when you lied or told the truth. Super annoying.
“They’re children's stories. You can’t seriously be telling me that they are real.” I threw my hands up, about two seconds away from tossing the delusional shifter out on his ass, regardless of what my Chia had to say about it. Not that Zazu could talk but you get the idea.
“They are very real and walk among us. The old man that bit you three days ago was a Varitan. He was trying to heal you.”
“Let's pretend for a minute that what you are saying is true, why me? Why would this mystical Varitan want to heal me? I’m a Mutt from a bad neighborhood who has strong opinions about the world today but ultimately I live in it so I do what I can to help but also survive.”
“You seem to be surviving pretty well to me,” he muttered, glancing around at the penthouse.
“I pull my weight and earn my keep,” I huffed furiously. How dare he come into my home and insinuate that I was a lazy gold digger! Syd would eat him alive. “I think it’s time for you to leave.”
“I can’t leave without you.” His brown eyes were downcast and looked so forlorn and a little frustrated. I had that effect on people.
“Th
ere is nothing you could say that would convince me to come with you. I’ve seen this movie. The red-haired chick is sympathetic then dies horribly. I’m not her.”
“Are you trying to convince me or yourself?” he countered. I opened my mouth, my mind racing to find a suitable comeback when he spoke again. “Would it help at all if I told you the old man who was trying to help you is now dying?”
My heart stuttered in my chest. Not many people knew this about me, but I was a total softy with a big heart. If it was up to me, I’d feed anyone who came and knocked on the door, but I’d kill myself trying. Syd developed a system to vet the Mutts coming in an effort to force me to say no.
“How?” I asked my voice cracking. It made my heart hurt to hear or see people in pain. Doubly so if I was the one that caused it. “Was it my blood? Did it hurt him somehow?”
You’re an idiot Nik. One shifter walks in, tells you some sob story and you’re ready to run off and save his friend.
“Varitans are healers as you know but the stories don’t say how they heal. It’s a complicated process that involves magic, a strong stomach, and blood. Varitans aren’t born, they’re made. Healing makes them stronger. The more diseases and illnesses they overcome the stronger they are. With that strength they can help more, heal more, guard more, protect more. This isn’t some bedtime story, this is real and it is happening. He’s dying and the only way I can save him is to bring you to him.”
“What could I possibly do to help? He snacked on me while I slept. That’s super creepy and not endearing at all.”
“Usually he doesn’t need to feed again but something about you has halted his ability.”
“I know you're doing your best to convince me, but you haven’t explained how drinking my blood will heal me. I don’t even know your name,” I said the last part flippantly but he replied with a terse word.
“Brutus.”
“What?”
“My name is Brutus.”
What a terrible name. Now I felt bad for his friend and the fact his parents named him after a rich girl’s small foo-foo dog. “That’s a shit name.”
