by Bree Moore
“What if we just”—he spread his hands—“got to know each other? You know, likes and dislikes, that sort of thing?”
“Sounds like a date,” she taunted.
“Uh, no. This is not a date. This is a professional counseling appointment.”
“Sorry, Mr. Miller. I got confused.” Harper bit back laughter. It was too fun getting under his skin.
Tyson shifted his shoulders. “You don’t have to call me that.”
She arched a brow.
“I just meant that a lot of the residents prefer to call me Tyson.” He ran a hand through his brown hair, and some of it stood up for a bit before falling.
“Okay, then. Tyson it is.”
“Do you go by Harper?”
She pressed her lips together in a line and let her head nod.
“Great. And, what’s your favorite thing to do?”
Harper tilted her head and stared at him. He didn’t get it. She put a hand to the side of her mouth. “It’s sort of illegal,” she stage-whispered.
Tyson laughed. It was the least annoying thing about him. Sort of rich and sincere, the kind of laugh that made you want to know the joke. Harper tightened her lips, holding back any sort of indication that she shared his mirth. He hadn’t earned that yet.
“That’s something. I mean, I asked for it. Where do you like to fly most?”
“Mountains,” Harper said before she realized he’d asked two questions. Trickster. “My turn,” she interjected before he asked another one. “What made you decide to be a paranormal shrink?”
“Counselor,” Tyson corrected. “And I like to help people.”
“Oh, ha.” She shot him a fierce look, but he crossed his arms and gave her a self-satisfied grin like he’d done something clever.
“Seriously, though, the real reason is that I had this friend. She was like you, in a way. Shifter. She could change into a fox.” He stared down at the pen rotating through his fingers and smiled. “We were best friends. When she told me, I was just amazed. Well, not at first. I was scared the first time. But after that, I thought it was the neatest thing in the world. I even wished I could do it. She told me not to tell anyone.”
“But you did.”
His face fell, and Harper suddenly wanted to make him laugh again.
“You know, I don’t tell anyone this story. That’s one reason why.” He stared her down.
“Try me.”
He shook his head and sat back in his chair. “When the people came and asked me questions, I answered them honestly. I was ten, and they assured me that Reya and her family would be safer, that they would learn to be normal and that others would be safer too, that I could be part of that change for them. I’d seen my friend’s fear about being caught, I wanted her to not be afraid anymore. After that, her family disappeared. My parents assured me they were all being helped…” He trailed off, then cleared his throat. His hand drifted to the pencil on his desk and rolled it back and forth. “I never saw them again.”
Harper was shocked by his transparency and the depth of the lies he’d been sold. Bitter words rose to her lips, but Tyson wasn’t done yet. He continued.
“A few years later, my sister’s husband was killed, and I wondered if there was anything that could be done to get harmful paranormals rehabilitated, to make the world safer for everyone. I looked into Naturalization, everything they let the public know, and then I found Dr. Thomas Hartford. He came to speak on campus about a revolutionary program he’d pioneered—psychology for paranormals—and everything changed for me. I knew right then that was the career for me. The past two years have been incredible, showing me again and again that this is what the world needs in order to integrate paranormals into society.”
“That’s what inspired you?” Harper curled her lips, witholding a desire to spit at his feet. “You destroy families.”
He shook his head. “No, I help them get back to their families, back to a normal life where they aren’t persecuted anymore. They’re not hated and hunted the rest of their lives.”
It made sense in a twisted sort of way. The way a psychopath justified murders.
“Tell me about your parents. Are they like you?” The counselor voice was back. It was like a persona that he put on and took off. For a moment, they’d shared something real. Now the insincere, syrupy gentleness was back, coating his voice and his gaze.
Harper sat back in her chair. Tyson was utterly brainwashed if he thought after that inspiring little speech she would open up.
“I get it, you’re protecting them,” he said. “I respect that. Let’s talk about something else.” He put the pen down and leaned forward, pursing his lips and raising one eyebrow. A ridiculous expression. He scrutinized her. “I’ve asked enough questions for today. What else do you want to discuss today?”
Harper scoffed. “How about how messed up it is that you think you helped your friend. That you have ever helped anyone. Is that up for discussion?”
He bit his lip, then caught himself and stopped abruptly, changing his position in his chair. He maintained a carefully crafted expression of indifference.
She forged ahead, finally free to say exactly what she thought. “How brainwashed are you? You and everyone else in this place who tries to help, you do far more harm than good. How can it help to take people from their homes, their families, their lives, and put them in a facility that teaches them that what they are, their very essence is an abomination that must be suppressed, even terminated?”
Harper paused, chest heaving, waiting for him to respond, but he said nothing. Just looked at her with his chin in his hand. She released the next tirade as it built inside her.
“You would never tell a human who came into your office that they should stop being who they were, cut off their arms and send them back into the world expecting them to thrive. That’s insanity, but it’s exactly what you do here. There’s a whole other side to this, and you can’t see it. You can’t see how your methods torture and hurt those who are subjected to them because they have no other choice.”
Breathless, she stopped. Her words were spent, for now. She could have said more, but she wanted to hear him say he was wrong, that he understood her side.
It seemed an eternity before he moved. He sighed and adjusted his position in his seat. “There. Feel better?”
Harper gaped. Was he for real? “Feel better? How could I possibly…? You haven’t said or done anything that could possibly make me feel better!”
Tyson nodded. At what, she didn’t know. “Sometimes we just need to get words out to realize how ridiculous it sounds. Harper, I’m not here to hurt you. I’m not going to maim you. You’re going to come to the realization that there are opportunities to be had here that you won’t find anywhere else.” He smiled, then grabbed a piece of paper from the folder on his desk and slid it across to her. “This is a Naturalization application. How about you look it over and see what’s required. We can talk about it in a few days at your next appointment.”
Harper stood, laughing more out of nerves than any humor. “You are certifiable. I don’t know what they taught you at whatever crackpot shrink school you attended, but here’s a fun fact: I don’t care about your application. I’ll keep my wings, thank you.” Her stomach lurched at the fact that he felt fulfilled in giving her the ‘opportunity’ to be maimed for life. She had nothing more to say to him, at least not anything that would be productive.
“I thought you might respond better to someone telling you like it is. I thought you would appreciate the transparency.”
“Oh, I do,” Harper snapped back. “And I’m not afraid to tell you that it’s horrifying what you do to my people in the name of progress and peace. What you did to your friend. They keep records on everything, don’t they? Haven’t you found out what happened to her yet? Or are you afraid of what you’ll find?”
Tyson finally lost his cool. He stood, finger jabbing into the paper on t
he desk, sputtering as he struggled for words. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. If I could make you see—”
He ran his fingers through his hair, then pushed his chair out of the way and strode to the door, throwing it open. “I think we’ve both had quite enough conversation for today. I’ll see you next week.”
Satisfaction flooded Harper, seeing him so agitated. She grinned broadly, not bothering to hold back the laugh that bubbled up. “Look at you! Pretending to help people. Bless your heart.”
He gritted his teeth. “I’m not pretending. I’m trying to help you.”
She walked past him into the hall, glancing back over her shoulder and pulling her upper lip into a snarl. “I don’t want your help.”
Tyson grabbed his coat from behind his door and shoved his arms into the sleeves. He slammed his office door behind him. Harper lingered, still amused at his anger.
“I’m going for a walk,” he growled, marching past her.
“I won’t wait up,” Harper called after him. He straightened his jacket and threw open the front door, walking straight out into the windy afternoon. The door banged shut behind him. She ignored the guilt that tried to ply her with reasons to feel bad about what she said to him. She honestly didn’t care. Truly, she didn’t. Next chance she got, she would leave this place and never see him again.
Chapter Seven
Harper
After Tyson left, Harper wandered aimlessly through the house, avoiding areas with people, familiarizing herself with the place. The heaviness of the wards Violet placed on her had lifted slightly, though her sense of agitation lingered. The wards might be meant as protection, but they were also effectively shackles. The knowledge that they were there hovered in the back of her mind.
Eventually, Harper’s growling stomach forced her to the kitchen. A few stragglers remained, picking at their food. Another group argued in the common room. Something about a movie?
Kamri leapt up from the breakfast nook where Beckett and several other werewolves lounged. She sauntered toward Harper like she owned the place. Based on what Harper had seen, the werewolves were pretty high up on the social ladder. Or maybe it was a food chain thing.
“Glad you made it! You don’t want to miss movie night,” she said. “You’re probably hungry. It’s fend-for-yourself tonight.”
“I could eat,” Harper said, rubbing the inside of her wrist.
“So, do you like your meat dead or alive?” Kamri wagged her eyebrows. Harper couldn’t tell if she was joking or not.
“I've always had my meat cooked before I eat it. Guess I don't know the difference.”
“You're missing out! But if that's not your jam, we can cook.” She said it without mocking. She headed to a large metal door behind the long kitchen counter and opened it up with a gust of cool air. A walk-in refrigerator, one of the industrial kind found in restaurants.
“I see hamburger patties, sausages, hot dogs…Man, I love delivery day. You pick, I'll cook.” Kamri turned back to Harper, who must have had a strange expression on her face, because Kamri’s changed in an instant becoming a mask of politeness. “Oh, I'm sorry. Here I am assuming you prefer meat. Are you vegan or something?”
Harper snorted. “Not likely. Hamburger sounds great. And…do you have any cereal?” After a day like today she wanted comfort food. All the stress of escaping, being warded, and her talk with Tyson had caught up with her, and her stomach complained in full force. She had skipped lunch, after all.
Kamri grinned, tossing a crimson strand of hair out of her face. “You betcha! Like milk with it?”
“Nope.”
Kamri looked at Harper like she had two heads. “You bird-folk are strange.” She carried a large package of hamburger to the counter. No way Harper would eat more than two patties. The werewolf probably knew that.
“Have you known many of us?” Harper asked.
Ian walked into the kitchen, hands in his pockets. Kamri grinned at him. “Just two. Three, if you count yourself. Haven’t really gotten to know you, though, and the other one wasn't here long.”
Quinn. Harper’s lip trembled. She rubbed it, hoping her anxiety didn’t show. She’d been so close to escaping, but Quinn felt farther away than ever now. Harper stuffed the feelings down, groping for a question to ask Kamri to find out more about how Quinn had escaped. Maybe Harper could mimic his success.
“Are you a LIFE or Fruit Loops chick?” Kamri grabbed both kinds of cereal and closed the pantry. As they walked away, Harper heard a faint beep. The coded lock on the door went from green to red. The fridge had the same red light next to it. As Kamri set the cereal boxes on the counter, she slapped a hand over her mouth. “Sorry about that. I wasn't thinking how derogatory that could have been.”
Harper shrugged. “Calling me chick? I mean…yeah, okay, I’m a bird. But you didn’t mean it that way.”
Kamri raised her eyebrows. “That's a big thing, here. You should learn the terms that others find offensive. We avoid a lot of violence that way.”
“So, I met Fletcher already.” Harper tried to sound casual. “What happened with the other one? The other bird-shifter?”
“He tried to escape, like you. He didn’t give up after the first time, either. He tried every single day he was here. Then this Cryptozoologist, Becca, showed up to collect our latest data and interview a few of the residents. It’s, like, this month-long process? Anyway, she grew pretty close to Quinn and the next thing we know, they blow the joint together. That’s not the official story, though. The human is off the hook, as usual.” Kamri opened the box of cereal and grabbed a fistful, putting it in her mouth and chewing rapidly.
Harper’s heart pounded as if she was the one escaping. Anita, that witch from the other day, had been so caught up in Quinn having a girlfriend she failed to mention they might have escaped together. Was that why Quinn hadn’t come looking for Harper? Harper frowned.
Ian fired up a pan on the stove. He smiled at them through his curtain of hair.
Kamri beamed at him. “I never thought I'd see a vegan cooking burgers.”
“I eat fish,” he protested.
Kamri fetched Harper a bowl and spoon. She reached for the cereal and poured it herself. Kamri eyed her serving. “Do you eat like a bird too? I’m always famished after I shift out of wolf.”
Harper hesitated, then poured some more. Kamri threw her that signature grin.
Harper cleared her throat. “How does that work, anyway? I thought werewolves were a full moon thing.”
“Best we can figure is French blood. The loup garou is a breed that can transform at will. We also shift during the night of the full moon; that one is obligatory. Mostly just inconvenient. Apparently, the French werewolves were highly prolific breeders, too. Most of us can do it. Only a few do the half-crazed full moon transformation. They don't last long here. There isn't a cure.”
Harper nearly spit out her cereal, dribbling milk down her chin. “It's genetic?”
Kamri snatched a napkin from a nearby holder and handed it to me. “At least the French version is. I couldn't turn someone if I bit them, but if I got pregnant the babies would be just like me.”
Ian blushed deep red at that, for some reason. “I might burn these. How do you like it?”
“Anyway I can get it,” Kamri said suggestively, snaking her hand over the one he held the spatula with. He stuttered. Kamri grabbed the spatula away from him and bumped him over with her hip. “Preferably bloody, though. Harper?” She indicated the burgers.
“Medium rare.” The cereal was good, but Harper definitely needed more.
Kamri tsked, sliding a second bleeding circle of meat onto her plate. “Thanks for getting us started, Ian. Wanna make sure they don't pick a terrible movie?”
“It's already chosen. Some superhero thing. I'll go save our spot.”
“If it's taken, tell ‘em I'll bite ‘em,” Kamri said around a mouthful of meat.
&nb
sp; Harper joined in a minute later, grease dripping down her chin. It was the best burger she’d ever eaten. Just meat, no bread or limp veggies to work around. Harper moaned and Kamri laughed.
“At least we agree on one thing. Thank God you're not vegan.”
Harper laughed with her. Looking at the smiling faces, Harper realized she was in a place she could actually belong. She could never show her true self or talk about anything related to her shifter form while she was in hiding, but now…too bad it was temporary. The bite of meat in her mouth grew tasteless, and she swallowed. She needed a drink.
“Kamri, can I get—” The back door leading from the kitchen to outside burst open, and Fletcher strode in, windswept hair and feathers sticking every which way. His cobalt eyes landed on Harper, then darted around the room as if looking for someone.
“What’s up, Fletcher?” Kamri asked, wiping her face.
“Where’s Zeke? Or Lilith, maybe?” He had a wild look in his eyes, something like fear.
“I think Zeke is with Mandi. Not sure about Lilith,” Ian said.
Kamri put down her burger. “Is something wrong?”
“Rogues are on the move. I saw them as I flew over the forest. They look like they’re hunting. Is everyone inside?”
All activity in the room froze. People exchanged looks and murmured, most of them shaking their heads. Kamri counted heads, then ran into the common room and made an announcement. “Is anyone missing? Did anyone go out?”
Harper’s mouth felt parched. She still hadn’t gotten a drink, but that wasn’t the main issue. She licked her lips.
“Tyson,” she said. The chatter in the room was too loud for her small voice. She cleared her throat. “Hey, Tyson went for a walk earlier.”
Fletcher heard her. “Kamri!”
Kamri ran back into the room. “Everyone accounted for, I think. Did you find anyone missing?”
“Harper says Tyson left earlier for a walk.”
“By himself?”
“Did anyone see him come back?” Fletcher’s eyes darted frantically. Panic palpated around the room, washing across various faces like a wave.
