Endangered

by Michelle Larkin

  She couldn’t take her eyes off him. Seeing Oscar in this form was magical for her. Instincts told her he was the pack leader. She’d be willing to bet anything the wolves outside took orders from him. Until now, this was Oscar’s world—a world he’d kept private.

  He sat in front of her and peered into her eyes intently. Returning his gaze, she recognized Oscar’s eyes at once. A warm shade of chestnut brown, they could be loving and tender with her or guarded and unyielding on the job. Long seconds ticked by. She got the feeling he was studying her. Feeling suddenly self-conscious, she wondered if something was wrong and drew back, breaking their connection.

  Back in human form, he stared at her, mouth agape.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked. “You were looking at me funny.”

  He leaned back in the armchair.

  “Do I have a giant panther pimple or something?”

  “You’re definitely a panther,” he said, rubbing his chin in thought. “But your eyes…they’re the brightest yellow I’ve ever seen.”

  She failed to see the problem. “Don’t panthers have yellow eyes?”

  “Maybe. Probably.” He waved a dismissive hand in the air. “That’s not the point. When we shift, we always keep our human eye color, regardless of our animal.”

  “So what does that mean?” She scooted forward on the love seat. “Can I shoot laser beams from my eyes?” she asked jokingly, trying to break the tension.

  “I can’t believe this,” he said, standing from the armchair. He started to pace around the living room. “All this time…I never knew.”

  “Guess that makes two of us.” She tried to be patient, waiting as he paced. “Care to clue me in?”

  He sat beside her and set a hand on her shoulder. “It means you’re a Myriad, Aspen.”

  “Let me get this straight. I was born a Shroud, but my parents gave me a shot for the first five years of my life that made me a temporary human, and now I’m a Myriad?” She looked up, thoroughly confused. “What the hell is a Myriad?”

  “It’s a very special kind of Shroud. Myriads were thought to be extinct. Humans hunted them down all over the world and killed them off over a century ago. Yet here you are,” he said, shaking his head. “Your parents must have known about you. That explains why they fought so hard to keep you off the radar. They knew how valuable you were.” He rose from the sofa and resumed pacing.

  “They were hoping the vaccine would suppress your shapeshifting ability until you were fully mature and at the peak of your power.” He stopped pacing and turned to her. “Your parents were brilliant. I should’ve known they had something up their sleeves. Can’t believe it took me this long to put it all together.”

  At the peak of what power? Aspen had so many questions, but her instincts told her not to interrupt Oscar’s train of thought. She had never seen him excited like this before.

  “Myriads always assume the animal of the mother. In your case, your primary animal is a panther, but you can shapeshift into any animal at will. The telltale sign of a Myriad is bright yellow eyes, markedly different than the eyes you have in human form. Myriads also possess unique…” He paused, studying her. “Abilities.”

  She could tell Oscar was choosing his words carefully, which wasn’t like him at all. Alarm bells went off inside her head. “What do you mean by abilities?” Processing all this new information was making her hungry.

  “With each Myriad, it’s different,” he explained. “You won’t know until it happens.”

  “Are we talking superhero abilities? Or is it more like I wake up one morning to discover I have a hidden talent for knitting?”

  “The abilities vary, from what I understand,” he said vaguely. “Now that the vaccine seems to be wearing off, the important thing is to start paying attention and be on the lookout for certain…changes.”

  There it was again. That telltale pause. He made it sound like she was about to go through puberty all over again.

  She’d grown up believing she was human. But she was actually a Shroud? How could this be happening? She was still reeling from the revelation that her adoptive parents were her real parents. They’d chosen to withhold the truth beyond their graves, even from her. A part of her felt angry with her parents and betrayed by Oscar. How could he let her go through life believing these lies?

  In that instant, she realized there was a part of her that had always felt…different. She had felt a kinship with Shrouds her whole life, but she’d attributed that to being raised by Shrouds who loved her and treated her well. Had she felt that kinship from the outset because she was one? She wanted to believe she would have felt the same if she really was human. Believing it gave her hope that humans and Shrouds might, one day, overcome their differences enough to realize just how much they had in common and coexist peacefully.

  Her next thought made her heart skip a beat. “Would you have taken me in if I wasn’t a Shroud, if everything my parents told me was true?”

  Oscar hung his head in thoughtful silence. He was quiet for so long that Aspen decided she didn’t want to hear his answer. Knowing the truth might change her relationship with Oscar forever.

  For the last eighteen years, he’d been her hero, a Shroud who opened his home and heart to a human. She’d always believed he possessed more integrity than every other human she’d ever met. But maybe Oscar wasn’t the man she thought he was. She balled her hands into fists and shook her head, determined to stuff down the tears that were threatening to break free.

  “Had that truly been the case, there’s only one thing I would do different,” he said, finally looking up. “I would have found you sooner. As a human raised by Shrouds, you would have faced endless ridicule. I would’ve wanted to save you from that.”

  There was the Oscar she knew. She searched familiar brown eyes and knew he was telling the truth. “But I thought I was human and I did face endless ridicule. So what’s the difference?”

  “The difference is, you’re a Shroud, Aspen. I figured your shapeshifting abilities would manifest sooner or later, and if push came to shove, you’d be able to defend yourself. Placing you with humans was like hiding a lion among lambs.”

  “How can you say that when humans have been murdering Shrouds for centuries?” she asked, dumbfounded.

  “Because Shrouds are stronger than humans. In here,” he said, tapping a finger against his temple. “Always have been. Probably always will be.”

  There was a part of her that instantly sensed the truth in his words. The Shrouds she’d encountered in her life, both on and off the job, all seemed to possess a certain mental toughness, a resilience that she’d come to admire over the years.

  “The morning I found you in the park was the best and worst day of my life. I felt like I had found my daughter. You may not be my blood, but it sure as hell felt like you were. Still does,” he said with cheeks full of tears. “Shroud or human, I should have come for you sooner, kid. I’m sorry.”

  “You found me exactly when you were meant to,” she assured him. “When I look back on that time in my life, there’s nothing I would change about it. I believe all of it happened for a reason. You saved me that day. And you’ve been there for me ever since.” She went to Oscar, sat on the armrest beside him, and wrapped her arm around him. “You’re the person I trust most in this world. I’ve never said thank you, but I try to live my life in a way that honors you and everything you sacrificed for me.”

  “There were never any sacrifices. Raising you was a privilege. I was the lucky one.”

  She gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze, stood, and returned to the love seat with a sigh. “If you think getting all sappy and showering me with compliments lets you off the hook for withholding the truth for so long, you’re wrong. I’m still mad.”

  “Copy that. You have every right to be.”

  Silence filled the space between them.

  “Taking accountability and validating my anger is a good start,” she said finally. “If you th
rew in pancakes at IHOP every Sunday for a year, I might be able to let this go.”

  “Just a year?”

  Oscar was right. His eighteen-year omission was a serious offense and should be treated accordingly. “Make it three,” she said. Out of habit, she reached up to rub the phoenix pendant between her thumb and forefinger. Remembering it was now in new hands made her smile. “And Skye comes, too.”

  “Already figured she was part of the deal. She showed me the necklace you gave her.” Oscar had given Aspen that necklace the day after he found her in the park.

  He laced his fingers together and lowered his head, pretending to give her demands serious thought. “Five years,” he said at last, looking up with the no-nonsense expression he reserved for the job. “Final offer. And I’ll throw in twenty boxes of those Girl Scout cookies you like.”

  “Thin Mints?”

  He nodded.

  “Done. All is forgiven,” she said. They shook hands and then hugged, long and hard.

  Chapter Six

  Oscar returned to his armchair and leaned toward her, his body now visibly tense. “You need to be extremely careful, Aspen. If the SEA learns you’re a Myriad, they’ll come after you with everything they’ve got. You should know I’m now sworn to protect you. My pack, Skye, the doctor—all Shrouds—we’re sworn to keep you safe, no matter the cost to our own lives.”

  Aspen cringed at the thought of someone risking their life for hers. Her life wasn’t more important than anyone else’s. No wonder the doctor was so grumpy. Tonight’s events made sense now. Tora must have seen her yellow eyes when they shook hands in the hospital and figured out she was a Myriad. That’s why Tora circled her when they met, just like Oscar had. That’s probably also why she’d made the decision to help. It wasn’t Skye she was protecting. It was Aspen.

  “I’m no more important than you, Skye, Tora, or anyone else,” she argued. “Besides, I don’t need your protection. You know I can take care of myself.”

  “That’s the law of our people, Aspen. You’re one of us. And as a Myriad, you’re the last of your kind and extremely valuable. You have a duty to every Shroud on this earth to do whatever it takes to stay alive.”

  “You’re a Myriad?” Skye asked, stepping into the living room. “Like…whoa.” She made the gesture—along with rather impressive sound effects—of her mind being blown.

  “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. I don’t even know how to shapeshift yet.”

  No longer confined to the body of a lioness, the doctor stepped forward. “You don’t know how to shapeshift?” Tora was wearing the same blue hospital scrubs and charcoal gray Adidas sneakers from earlier. Dr. Madigan was stitched in black thread on the breast pocket of her white lab coat.

  A new question arose in Aspen’s mind. How did Skye and the doctor shift back into their clothes? “Welcome back from the dead. And thanks for this, by the way.” Aspen pointed to the goose egg on her head. “Oscar here was just telling me I’m the chosen one. You’re required by law to protect me, not give me a concussion.”

  Ignoring Aspen altogether, Tora directed her question to Oscar from across the room. “How can she be a Myriad if she’s never even shapeshifted?”

  Oscar briefed Tora and Skye on his recent revelations as they both settled on the sofa across from Aspen. She studied each of them as they sat in rapt attention.

  Tora’s posture was rigid as she listened with the expression of a professional poker player. Her hair was still braided down her back with several loose curls tucked behind one ear. Makeup-free, she was the embodiment of fresh-faced radiance and raw beauty. Amber-gold eyes were her most striking feature. Aspen let her eyes roam Tora’s body. Her legs were crossed at the thigh, her arms folded protectively across her chest. Even in hospital scrubs, her lean frame and feminine curves were visible. She was both elegant and fierce, all in one breath.

  Skye, on the other hand, was an open book as she leaned forward, her expression full of hope, innocence, and wonder. Watching the girl, Aspen was reminded of the feeling she had as they shared candy on the rooftop earlier that evening. There was something special about Skye, something that transcended their shared traumas and shapeshifting abilities. She couldn’t put her finger on what it was exactly, but her instincts insisted it was there. She also felt strongly that it—whatever it was—would be revealed soon.

  Aspen let her gaze fall away and return to Oscar as he finished relaying her story. The room grew quiet as they processed his words.

  Tora was the first to break the silence. “We need to relocate. Tonight.”

  “Why?” Aspen asked. “No one knows I came here.”

  “The SEA knows you have Skye. By now, they’ve figured out Oscar adopted you. They’re following the trail and figuring out exactly who you are as we speak. This will be one of the first places they visit.”

  Oscar nodded in agreement. “She’s right. They’re coming for all of us, whether we like it or not. We need to get you someplace safe.”

  “I can take you to a sanctuary a few hours from here,” Tora offered. “You’ll be safe there. We should leave tonight.”

  “Fine. But where I go, Skye goes. She stays with me.” Aspen couldn’t explain it, but she was overcome with a powerful maternal instinct toward Skye. Like a lightning bolt illuminating the dark night sky, she saw her purpose clearly for the first time: she needed to protect the girl at all costs. Skye was not only special, but she was important somehow in the big picture.

  Tora uncrossed her legs and leaned forward. “Now’s not the time to let sentiment cloud your judgment.”

  Aspen met her fiery gaze head on. “I’m not.”

  “Then give me a reason for your request.”

  “It’s not a request. And I don’t need to give you a reason for anything.” Aspen couldn’t believe she’d willingly relinquished her Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups to this woman.

  They stared each other down. Neither she nor Tora budged.

  Oscar cleared his throat. “What is it you’re not telling us, Aspen?”

  Good old Oscar. Giving her the benefit of the doubt, as usual. She broke the stare down and diverted her attention to him. “You said Myriads have unique abilities.”

  He nodded. “Go on.”

  “I know Skye’s important. I don’t know why yet, but I’m supposed to keep her with me. Protect her. That’s my purpose. I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life.” Those words would hit home with Oscar. He knew her better than anyone. She wasn’t prone to irrational thinking. She approached everything in life with a combination of integrity, heart, and common sense. Some of that was innate, but most of it had been planted in her by Oscar’s steady guidance over the years. He had unwittingly molded her in his image. She was proud to be the person he’d helped to create.

  “Copy that,” he said without hesitation. “Skye stays with you.”

  Skye stood from the sofa and joined Aspen on the love seat. “My mom started teaching me how to shift just before my eighth birthday. We kept it a secret from my dad—he didn’t want us doing anything that would make us a target for humans. But your mom never got the chance to teach you.” The girl looked to Oscar and then to Tora. “One of us has to teach her.”

  “On that note”—Oscar stood abruptly—“I need to check in with my pack.” Obviously steering clear of the conversation, he made a clean getaway to the kitchen. Aspen heard the door slam shut as he exited abruptly from the house.

  “Why do I get the feeling he doesn’t want to teach me how to shapeshift?” Aspen asked, trying to figure out what was going on. “How hard can it be?”

  Skye and Tora exchanged a knowing look.

  “It’s not that it’s hard exactly,” Skye volunteered. “Definitely takes a lot of practice. It’s just that…”

  “It’s a very intimate experience,” Tora finished for her. “Traditionally, a mother assumes all training for her daughter, and a father does the same for his son.”

  “What if there i
sn’t a mother?” Aspen asked.

  “Then it falls to an aunt or a grandmother.”

  “What if there isn’t an aunt or a grandmother?”

  “I’m not sure. I’ve never heard of such a thing happening.”

  “Well, I need to start somewhere.” Aspen thought for a moment. “Can I teach myself? Maybe there’s a book I can read.”

  “This can’t be learned by reading a book,” Tora explained. “It must be taught, skin to skin.”

  Aspen raised an eyebrow. “As in…naked?”

  “Yes.”

  “Oh.” Aspen was beginning to grasp the dilemma. “Is there another way I can learn how to shift? Without getting naked?”

  Tora shook her head. “No. That’s the only way.” She turned to the girl with a sigh. “Skye, can you please give us a moment?”

  “Don’t worry, Aspen.” Skye set a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “We’ll figure something out.”

  She watched the girl disappear into the kitchen. “What are we talking here? Like, full-body naked or just down-to-your-undergarments naked?”

  “Both teacher and student are fully disrobed.”

  “And what about the skin to skin part?” she asked suspiciously. “What parts are skin to skin?”

  “Full body contact is required for each shapeshifting lesson,” Tora said calmly. “It’s a totally platonic experience.”

  Shapeshifting sounded a lot more complicated than she’d imagined. No wonder Oscar had bailed. She didn’t blame him.

  “I’ll volunteer to take charge of your training. We’ll start first thing tomorrow.”

  The sooner she got started, the better. Her people were being slaughtered. If there was something she could do to stop it, she was all in. She couldn’t explain it, but she could feel their silent cries for mercy somewhere deep inside her own body. She centered her gaze on Tora. “Why you?” she asked.

  “Oscar’s a man, and Skye’s too young. I’m the most logical choice,” Tora said matter-of-factly.

  She was about to vehemently protest that there must be another Shroud out there somewhere who could train her—she’d put an ad on craigslist if she had to—when the sound of a rapidly firing automatic weapon broke her train of thought.