by Ann Mayburn
“The Tasty Bears.” Flushing, I hid my face. “They are awful, but yes, I’ve seen them all. Even the spin off series of Devon the Bear King’s brothers. One of my best friends loves the Primal Passion movies with a passion, and the books, so I’ve had to sit through them more than once.”
Joven laughed, a low and warm sound. “You’re a good friend.”
Grinning because she was the second person to say that to me today, I shrugged. “Yeah, well she helps me carry rocks I collect when we go on walks together.”
“Why do you collect rocks?”
The look she gave me made my insecurity rise up. “I’m a mineralogist. I see an interesting rock and I want to study it. I’ll take a picture of it, bag it, take it home and remove a small sample, then return it to where I found it. So it’s not like I’m stealing the whole rock, just a tiny sample.”
Her lips twitched, but she gave a solemn nod. “Yes, we wouldn’t want to accuse you of theft.”
Desperate for a subject change, I asked, “If shifter life isn’t like the movies, how is it?
She walked back to me and we both turned our attention to the hyena mask. “Much like humans in some parts of the world, shifters have a caste system. Currently at the top are the Lions,” she tapped the glass shielding the lion mask “and at the bottom—”
“Are the hyenas,” I guessed with a grimace.
She moved to my side and nodded as we both stared at the well-lit display. “Yes, at the bottom are the hyenas.”
Indignation filled me. “Wait, are you saying the hyenas are considered second-class citizens?”
“In many ways, yes. The hyenas have been weakened for various reasons. They aren’t nearly as powerful as they once were thanks to years of infighting. Plus, the hyenas experienced a drop in birth rates, combined with an illness that took many of their young children.”
“I think I remember reading about that. It happened before I was born, but something about a magical illness that swept through the shifter enclaves.”
“Yes, it was a terrible time. When people lose their children, or the hope of having children, it can make them despondent. Those that did survive were often rendered infertile, and that only led to more depression.”
Thinking of my own fertility issues, I nodded. “I understand. Wanting a family and not being able to have one is the worst.”
“It is.” Joven said quietly before abruptly straightening, her dark eyes narrowing in anger. “I see someone I need to speak with. There is a book you should read before tomorrow night, I’ll make sure you get it.”
“Um—okay, thanks!”
“It’s been a pleasure talking with you, Ms Rowley,” she murmured as she strode towards a snooty looking man in a mint green suit.
I didn’t question her, instead moving quickly between the cubes until I was hidden behind a massive, carved jade pillar etched in silver. Voices rose in the air behind me, and something about the man’s tone set me on edge. Even though I couldn’t hear the words, his voice was supremely condescending. Moving away from Joven, I felt bad that she had to deal with a jerk like that. She was so cool and composed, it was like watching a snot-nosed bully yell at an empress.
I spent the next hour in a weird haze, going through the motions of my job while my ears rang with Joven’s words. I’ve always had a passing interest in religion despite being raised by a mother who didn’t particularly care for it, but I hadn’t paid much attention to shifter mythology. Once again I realized how little I knew about the world around me, and my mind spun with the weight of all I’d learned today. I’d spent so much of my life wrapped up in academia that my attention had been almost totally focused on things that happened millions of years ago. Books, research, and documentation were all solitary tasks for the most part. It wasn’t until I left college behind and started working at the museum that I’d attained a social life. My friends at the museum weren’t boy crazy like most of my old friends, or always looking to ‘get wrecked’. While I enjoyed a good party as much as anyone, I wasn’t into the face sucking sessions that usually went along with it. Or the guys groping me.
As I entered the subway late that afternoon, my palms began to sweat, and unease filled me when I descended down the long stairs leading to the tubes. A faint breeze blew out into the street from below, lifting the fine strands of my hair off my face and drying the dampness on my brow. Summer in D.C. was hot as a pot of boiling water, and just as muggy, but that wasn’t why my back was dotted with perspiration. Not only did I have my earlier nightmare still lingering in my mind, I was about to potentially face a very real, very legit fear of mine.
Mr. Creepy Hands, the recent bane of my subway riding existence.
He was taller than I was, with a mean set to his jaw and super pale skin that made his dark red hair stand out. Always dressed in an expensive looking suit and black wool coat, I imagined he was some kind of rich businessman with his shiny gold watch and perfect leather shoes. Normally I didn’t notice people, but it was as if Mr. Creepy Hands had forced me to pay attention to him. Like he was exuding some kind of low level whistle that only I could hear. While I didn’t see him all the time, usually once or twice a week, for the past few months when we were in the same car I knew it was only a matter of time until he freaked me out enough that I changed cars. No matter where I sat or stood, he’d eventually make his way close enough to stare at me until I wanted to scratch my skin off.
I called him Mr. Creepy Hands because he had abnormally long fingers. It wasn’t something you noticed at first, he was careful to keep his hands mostly hidden, but they were totally freaky. In a way, they reminded me of pale spider legs, curling and uncurling as he clenched them. I’d managed to avoid him for the most part, but once he’d touched me with those fingers. It had been a brief glance against the bare skin of my arm, but that had been enough to give me a full out panic attack that had me scrambling away from him.
With my breath coming out in harsh pants, I tried to guess which car he was in today, scanning the windows for him. It was crowded, really crowded, so I didn’t have much of a choice as to where I was going. I just had to follow the mass of humanity as it herded itself onto the Metro. Once I was inside, I grabbed onto a railing and tried to make myself as small as possible. Usually I left work before four, but it was going on six o’clock now and I was in the thick of the business rush. All around me men and women dressed in their corporate best looked so tired they resembled zombies. A few talked, but most were buried on their phones, their eyes glazed and distant. When there was no sign of Mr. Creepy Hands, I took out my phone and joined the unblinking masses by losing myself in my electronic entertainment.
By the time my long commute ended, I was feeling pretty zombie-like myself. As I shuffled off the train, my only thought was getting home and getting out of my work clothes. My mind seemed almost on autopilot as I drove, stopping to grab an unhealthy but totally delicious burger and fries on the way. I lived in an older, established neighborhood full of ranch houses with big yards from the 1960s outside of the city. The trees were huge, and all of the homes had personality and character. While the neighborhood was solid working class, a lot of young people with kids lived in my subdivision so there was always something going on.
Sure enough, when I pulled into my drive my neighbor’s kids came over to my car from where they’d been playing outside. Kelly, who lived in the cream and brown trimmed house on my left, had two adorable kids and one shitty as hell ex-husband named Al who lived down the block. He was a trucker so he wasn’t home often, but when he was it was like a dark cloud hung over the neighborhood. Kelly had told me, one drunken night as we sat on her porch, that she’d gotten pregnant with Amy and Aaron while she was still in high school. And that if she hadn’t gotten pregnant, there was no way she’d ever have married Al. She’d said she was too stupid at the time to know the difference between lust and love, and if she knew then what she knew now, she’d have shot him in the dick when they first met.
“Hey Syn,” she called from the front porch as her kids ran at me with smiles.
With faded bottle blonde hair and an easy smile, Kelly was close to thirty and, as she put it, ‘a proud, kick ass redneck bitch’. She was also a big, imposing figure of a woman who reminded me of what I always thought Viking warrior women looked like. Muscled, but still pretty and feminine-in her own way, she worked at the local truck stop as a mechanic. Wearing a pink camouflage shirt and frayed jean shorts, she grinned from her white wicker chair on the porch as her kids pounced on me. I’d known the twins since they were four, and had babysat them enough times that they thought of me as family. In my region of the world close female family friends were always called Aunt, but it still warmed me every time the kids used that honorary title with me.
“Aunt Syn!” Amy, the ten-year-old with freckles and braces smiled at me. “You are totally not going to believe what happened.”
Her gawky twin brother, Aaron, was far more interested in my food. “Can I have a fry?”
“Aaron,” Amy elbowed her brother. “Mom said begging for food is rude.”
“And I was just going to ask for the fries on the bottom of the bag, you know, the trash fries. It wasn’t like I wanted her fries. I’m not that big of a jerk, I’m just hungry.”
“Goddess, Aaron, we just had dinner,” his sister said with the kind of biting exasperation that only siblings can manage. “Stop thinking about your stomach for five seconds. We need to tell Aunt Syn about the lady that was at her house earlier. She was a really pretty black lady, and she wanted me to tell you she left you a book in your mailbox on your porch.”
“Her car was so kick ass-err, butt. Sorry.”
While Kelly let them get away with swearing now and again, they knew I didn’t like hearing them use profanity. My mom was kind of strict about that growing up, and I found myself being that way with Kelly’s kids. Not because I didn’t love them, but because I did. Sometimes you could be strict with a kid not because you’re mean, but because you’re trying to protect them. Besides, as much as I liked to pretend I was a hardass with them, the twins knew they totally owned my heart.
I gave Aaron a handful of French fries and he stuffed them in his mouth, chewing as he said, “That pretty black lady? She drove a crazy cool Alfa Romeo. It was pitch black with red rims and totally sweet. You’ve gotta be loaded to afford a ride like that.”
Frowning, I wondered who I knew that was rich enough to have a luxury car. “Thanks for letting me know, guys. I need to get in and eat, I’m starving and I need to feed the cats.”
Amy, ever the sweetheart, smiled and waved, “Okay, have a good night, Syn.”
Giving me an unapologetic grin, Aaron snatched one more fry before saying his own goodbyes.
With a tired sigh and a dragging step, I made my way up the wide cement front steps of my cute navy blue and white ranch. I’d planted big flowering bushes out front when I’d moved in, and right now the bright pink hydrangeas were in bloom. While my place wasn’t huge, it had a kick ass fully finished basement that made the perfect bedroom for me, and my backyard bordered on good-sized state park. The brass of my mailbox gleamed beneath my porch light as I opened it and took out a few pieces of mail, along with a brown leather book with gold writing on the front. It was a collection of religious myths and there was a note sticking out of the middle.
Dear Synthia,
I hope you don’t think this is too forward of me, but I got your information from the museum. I wanted to give you this book and was hoping you’d be home, but it looks like we missed each other. I’ll see you tomorrow night.
Joven
Well damn, I hadn’t seen that one coming. Still, I wondered why she’d driven all the way out here to my house. As the commute I’d just endured could attest, it was no short haul to get out to my neck of the woods from the city. Maybe she was just one of those really nice people who did things like that. My mom was the same way. Or maybe Jevon just happened to be in the area. Either way I’d have to make sure I thanked her the next day.
Glancing at the cover of the book, I tapped in the key code to my door. I’ve been known to lose my keys a time or twenty, so going keyless entry was always a good idea. I opened the heavy dark wood door and sighed as the cool air conditioning washed over me, bringing with it the faint scent of the vanilla and cherry candles I loved. Right away my cats, Booboo and Bobo, began meowing and twirling around my legs, trying to trip me so they could eat my burger. They were two overweight brown and white tabby cats with attitudes, but I adored them.
One day, during my first winter at my then new place, I’d followed the sound of faint kitten cries in the woods and discovered the two baby tabby cats all alone beneath a holly bush. Right away I’d put both tiny, cold bodies under my shirt, and had devoted myself to making sure they survived. It had been love at first sight and they’d both given me more unconditional affection than anyone other than my mom.
“Hey babies,” I cooed as I slid my backpack off in the small foyer that led to my open kitchen and living room. “I missed you too.”
Crouching down, I ran my fingers through their silky fur. “How are my sweet Booboo and Bobo kitties? Have you been good today? Did you leave me any presents?”
By ‘presents’ I mean small dead rodents and birds. Along with the occasional snake. Those are always fun. Especially the ones that are still alive.
I knew I could take the kitty door out and make them inside only animals, but that just felt cruel. I worked a lot, and keeping them cooped up all the time would drive them crazy. No, even though I worried about their safety, it made me feel better to know they could go roam and hunt, as they wished.
Giving the back door a cautious glance, I didn’t see any offerings in the usual place. They almost always left dead animals for me on the sunflower floor mat I had by the door. My cats were considerate like that.
After giving my cats one more good scratch, I went into my kitchen and let out a soft sigh of relief as I soaked in the simple pleasure of being home. Though my house wasn’t a mansion, my kitchen was nice, with upgraded appliances and plenty of space. Even though the countertops were fake black and white marble, they were still pretty. The chandelier I’d gotten from a pawn shop and refurbished gave the room a cheery, pale gold glow that was almost too dim for some people, but perfect for me. I had the cat bowls on my countertop, and even though I knew some people thought it wasn’t hygienic, I had to keep them away from Kipper Doodle.
Kipper Doodle was my neighbor Kelly’s lazy Chihuahua. Much like her children, Kipper was a frequent visitor at my house. After I’d adopted Booboo and Bobo, the dog had discovered the cat door and used it as his own personal entrance. He was a good dog, never bothered anything or made any messes, but if there was food and he was able to reach it, he’d eat it. Including the cat food. Kipper Doodle was devious. He’d wait until he could see the cats leave out the cat door from his backyard, then he’d haul his chubby butt over and chow down, which pissed my cats off to no end. After gorging himself, he’d go home and puke up whatever he ate all over Kelly’s living room carpet.
In order to save Kipper Doodle’s life from my cats and his owner, I’d started to put the cat food on the counter where he couldn’t reach it. While this kept their food safe from the dog, it put them almost eye level with me when they were eating, and they both enjoyed flicking their tails in my face and headbutting me while I made them dinner. The soft tickle of their fur on my cheeks never failed to make me smile, as did their plaintive meows. You’d think they were starving to death, which was so untrue.
The last of the day’s tension fled and I went through my usual routine of getting ready for bed. By the time my head hit my memory foam pillow I was groaning with happiness. My body was achy, like I’d done a hard workout, and I was glad to be off my feet. Walking and standing all day led to throbbing arches once I was finally off them, and I made a mental note to schedule a pedicure so I could get a foot massage so
on. Heck, I’d need it after standing around in heels tomorrow night.
My mind tried to turn to work, but with the strength that came from much practice, I made myself stop worrying. I couldn’t help it, my mom and her sisters were worriers, and they’d passed it onto me. Instead of trying to solve the problems of the world, I went to my happy place. It was a mental fantasy I’d perfected over the years, a perfect beach scene with details so clear it almost felt like I was there. As I sank into the mattress I let out a long sigh and basked in my imaginary sun.
The smell of strawberries filled me.
I slowly became aware of my surroundings and found myself in an unfamiliar, but beautiful sunlit room with peach walls and a cream ceiling. One wall had a deep outwards curve to it, and a row of windows looked out over a beautiful, green forest. The house must have been on a hill, because I had a wonderful view of the rolling mountains stretching out in the distance. Closer to the house there was a scattering of a couple dozen roofs and stone chimneys, but mostly I just saw trees. Ivory lace curtains hung from the windows, dancing as a warm breeze stirred them. There was a surreal feeling to the room, like small details kept shifting on the edges of my vision. A massive bookcase filled with what looked like little girl’s toys and books drew my attention, but before I could take a look a whimper drew me.
When I turned, my heart stopped as I gazed at the most adorable baby girl I’d ever seen. With glowing light brown skin and dressed in a pale-yellow onesie, her chubby little body made me want to hug her close. She was probably a little less than a year old, and she was standing in her pale wood crib, holding onto the side as she smiled at me. Her hazel brown and green eyes, exact copies of my own, sparkled with happiness when she saw me looking at her. She had dark, shiny corkscrew curls and three little teeth in her otherwise gummy smile. Holding one of her arms out to me, she squealed and bounced on her toes, urging me to pick her up.
