Secret Shifter

by Louise Cypress

  But I wasn’t a ward of the state anymore. I was twenty years old. There were no second chances. I needed this spot at UCSD and relied on my scholarship to not only pay my tuition, but room and board as well. This wasn’t foster care, where I could throttle the kid next to me, then get moved to a new placement the next day. I had to exercise self-control.

  “I don’t stink,” I said, even though I reeked of sweat, “and I brush my hair every day.” I stuffed my computer into my backpack and threw in a change of clothes for good measure. My towel and toiletries were already in the women’s bathroom. “I’m opening the window to air this place out. It smells like pig in here.” I stalked across the room and slid open the pane, revealing a stunning view of La Jolla that I was sure Lacey would ignore. Being on the tenth floor of Tioga Hall meant nothing to her; she was used to penthouse suites. When I left, I slammed the door behind me. Maybe she’d notice that.

  The women’s bathroom was empty, and I used as much hot water as I wanted. That still felt like a privilege. One of my foster-care guardians had put a timer in the bathroom. She’d turned off the hot water heater after two minutes. At least she’d let me shower on a regular basis. There was this one house where… Never mind. That was behind me now. I pushed the past away and focused on the future.

  As soon as I toweled off, I threw on shorts and a faded T-shirt. Lacey was right about one thing: I never bothered with makeup. I couldn’t afford it, but even if I could have, I didn’t like the feeling of wearing a mask. I didn’t need cosmetics companies to make me feel like a phony—I already knew I was a liar. I spent every day hiding my true nature.

  Nobody knew that shifters existed, and Mom had explicitly told me that if the world found out about our abilities, I’d be dead—or worse—locked away in a lab somewhere as the unwilling victim of scientific research.

  There were three unbreakable laws I needed to follow at all times. Number one: never steal from a shifter. Number two: never let a Static—a human who couldn’t shift—see me transform. And number three: never feast on a shifter. I didn’t know why Mom had bothered telling me rules number one and three because neither of us had ever met a shifter outside our family. But Grandpa had told her that back in the old days, there used to be other types of shifters, like horses, cats, birds, and rats.

  If Lacey found out that the real reason her BO bothered me so much was because I had an exceptionally acute sense of smell due to my canine DNA, she’d call campus security and have me locked up.

  But now I had outside confirmation about something I’d known for five years, that there were other paranormal creatures in the universe besides me. Vampires walked the Earth. Slayers stalked them. No way would I give up my dream of graduating from UCSD with a degree in journalism, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t curious about Slayer Academy.

  Slinging my backpack over one shoulder, I stepped out of my dorm into the cool night air. October was a hot month in San Diego, but UCSD was close to the Pacific Ocean. Tonight, the marine layer rolled in and cooled down campus. I wished I’d brought a sweatshirt with me, but there was no way I was going back up ten flights of stairs for another fight with Lacey. Instead, I went to the student center and found a quiet place to work. A ratty armchair, good lighting, and a strong WiFi connection were all I needed. Adrenaline kept me warm, and the internet helped me tie clues together.

  It wasn’t like I’d never searched for Helsing Incorporated before. But usually that turned up information about vampire mythology and the fabled vampire slayer Abraham Van Helsing. Now, with new clues to work with, I had a solid chance of finding what I was looking for. I typed in ‘Mt. Soledad Road’ and went from there.

  Two hours later, frustration overwhelmed me as I ran into one dead end after another. It was almost 7:30 p.m. and I needed to hurry if I wanted to eat dinner before the dining hall closed. Screw this. I dumped my computer into my backpack harder than necessary and groaned. How could I be so close and yet so far from discovering what I desperately wanted to know? Google Maps hadn’t helped me one iota, and neither had public records. If I wanted to find Slayer Academy, I would need to explore Mt. Soledad Road in person, and that was difficult because I didn’t have a car or a driver’s license. There was a bus route that serviced Mt. Soledad Road, but it was a commuter bus that only ran two times a day.

  “Hey, Kate,” said a guy standing next to me. “Have you eaten dinner yet?” It was Joshua Chow, who was in my Asian-American Lit class with me. Joshua had deep brown eyes and a kind smile. He was skinny; there wasn’t an ounce of fat on him. Unfortunately, there didn’t seem to be an ounce of muscle, either. I suspected he had a crush on me, and I worked hard not to encourage him because he wasn’t my type. Joshua looked like he wouldn’t last five minutes on a treadmill set on the lowest setting.

  “Um, no, I haven’t eaten yet. I was just about to walk over to the cafeteria.”

  “I’ll come with you.” Joshua’s cheeks turned pink. “If that’s okay.”

  “Fine. I mean, sure. Let’s eat.” I didn’t know much about Joshua beyond what he’d revealed in class. His mom spoke fluent Mandarin and had grown up in Beijing, and his dad was from Texas. Joshua had been born in Dallas but had moved to California when he’d been three. But then I remembered something else about Joshua he’d mentioned in passing. Joshua owned a car. He’d complained about needing to take it into Jiffy Lube a few days ago to get the oil changed.

  “Have you ever been up Mt. Soledad Road?” I asked.

  Joshua pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “You mean to see the Veterans Memorial? No, I haven’t, but I heard it’s a stunning view.” He smiled and took a step closer. “I bet it’s especially beautiful in the moonlight. Would you like to go?”

  “Um…sure.” I already regretted my lack of impulse control. Me and my big mouth. Why hadn’t I waited until tomorrow morning when I could have taken the bus?

  “Let’s have dinner and then we’ll go for a drive.” Joshua reached for my backpack. “Can I carry that for you? It looks heavy.”

  “No thanks.” I buckled the backpack straps across my chest. “I’ve got it.”

  An hour later, I sat in the passenger seat of his Subaru Forester. Dog hair covered the worn upholstery, which made me feel slightly better about the arrangement. “Do you have a Husky?” I clicked my seatbelt and settled my backpack at my feet.

  “An Alaskan Malamute.” Joshua turned the key in the ignition. “Or my parents do. This used to be my mom’s car.”

  “Where do they live?” Hopefully, it wasn’t San Diego, for the dog’s sake. I’d tried shifting into a Malamute once and had sweated so hard, it had felt like I was on fire.

  “Marin County.” Joshua switched on the headlights. “Near the Golden Gate Bridge. My mom works for a bio-tech company in San Francisco.”

  “Cool.” I typed Mt. Soledad Rd. into my phone’s GPS. “I’ve got directions to the monument if you need them.”

  “Thanks.” Joshua backed out the parking space and drove us out of the lot. “What about you? Where do your parents live?”

  My muscles tensed. I hated this question. “My mom died when I was fifteen, and I don’t know who my dad is.”

  “That’s horrible. I’m so sorry.”

  I shrugged. “It is what it is.”

  “Who did you live with after your mom passed away?”

  “My mom didn’t ‘pass away.’” I snorted. “She was murdered.” I didn’t want to have this conversation. I didn’t want my wounds poked and prodded by someone I barely knew. “What are you majoring in?” I asked, changing the subject. “Are you an English major? Is that why you’re taking Asian-American Lit?”

  Joshua scratched his nose. “No, that class is for fun. I’m an Econ major.”

  “Oh. Economics. That sounds practical.” I rolled down the window and stuck my face into the wind for a few minutes, entranced as the scenery flew by. Except for the occasional Uber, I rarely rode in cars. Sometimes I considered buying an old
junker, but then I’d have to pay for car insurance—and figure out how to get my license. I was already maxed out on hours at my part-time job at Barktacular as it was. I spent twenty hours a week working at a doggie daycare on campus for rich professionals with too much money and major guilt-complexes about leaving their fur babies home alone while they were at work.

  “You’re a journalism major, right?” Joshua asked.

  I pulled my head back inside and rolled the window up so I could hear him.

  “I saw your byline in The Triton on the article about the woman who was attacked walking back from a frat party last week,” said Joshua. “You handled a difficult subject with a lot of sensitivity.”

  I cringed, remembering the freshman’s story of fending off her attacker by clawing at him with her fingernails. “Thanks,” I said. “I’m glad she got away safely.”

  “She was lucky.” Joshua frowned. “If those two other people hadn’t shown up at exactly the right moment and scared the creep off, who knows what would have happened?”

  “You’re right.” The houses were getting larger now. Two-bedroom bungalows gave way to mini-mansions. I saw Mercedes, BMWs, and Teslas parked in driveways. Every time I went off campus and explored La Jolla, I felt poor. It was like the entire city rubbed my poverty in my face. I didn’t belong here. I didn’t belong anywhere.

  “Wow, look at that Corvette.” Joshua slowed down to let the red car zip in front of us. “I bet Angus wouldn’t fit in that front seat.”

  “Who’s Angus?”

  “Our Malamute. He’s seven years old now.”

  “Oh.” I wondered fleetingly if I could speak Malamute. Mom had said I was gifted at languages. Unlike her, I could communicate with most breeds. Grandpa had been like that too. I’d once heard him tell a hyper Chihuahua to calm the hell down when we were at a grocery store. Anyone can tell a dog to shut up, but Grandpa barked it.

  “Huh.” Joshua braked for a red light, and we rolled to a stop behind the convertible. “I would’ve guessed it was a middle-aged white dude driving that Corvette, but it looks like it’s someone around our age.”

  I looked through the windshield to the car in front of us to see what Joshua meant. There, in the driver’s seat of the red Corvette convertible, was Esma, her blonde hair streaming down her back. Right next to her in the passenger seat was Chase, his muscled arm hanging out the window.

  “I wonder if they live here?” I asked, barely able to keep the excitement from my voice. Goosebumps prickled over my skin.

  “Who knows? I heard that Mt. Soledad gets a lot of traffic because it’s a tourist destination.”

  “True.” The traffic signal changed to green, and we pulled forward. I kept my eyes on the Corvette as it climbed the steep hill.

  “I hope you’re warm enough.” Joshua turned on the heater and defroster. “It’s really cooling down.”

  I rubbed my bare arms to tame the goosebumps. “Yeah, I probably should have brought a jacket.”

  “I have one in the way back you can borrow. It’s my letterman’s jacket.”

  “Oh? What sport do you play?”

  Joshua’s cheeks turned pink. “I was on the math team.”

  “Awesome,” I said absentmindedly. We were at the top of the road now, right about to make the turn-off for the monument. The homes were enormous. Some of them dominated the property line, like giant Minecraft houses. Others were set back from the road with wrap-around privacy gates and ten-foot hedges.

  I watched with bated breath as the red Corvette slowed down at the very last house at the top of the hill and paused while a wrought-iron gate swung open. A few seconds later, the Corvette pulled into a driveway lined by Queen Anne palms. This was it! The place where the Puritan vampires—or whatever they called themselves—lived. I memorized the address as Joshua whizzed past the house.

  “We can’t see the stars, but look at the moon.” Joshua pointed up through the clouds.

  “Yeah, it’s bright, all right.” I looked behind me at the house that was becoming smaller and smaller. It was three stories tall with a six-car garage.

  Joshua turned onto the road leading into the memorial. The Mount Soledad National Veterans Memorial was a giant cross guarding the night sky. “We’re lucky to get a parking space.” He pulled into a slot and turned off the ignition. “This place is packed.”

  “Uh-huh.” I unlatched my seatbelt and opened my door. First thing tomorrow I’d take the bus back up Mt. Soledad Road and explore the neighborhood on foot. I’d hop the gate and walk up to Esma’s front door if I had to, demanding information.

  I was so lost in thought that I didn’t notice Joshua taking my hand to help me rise out of the passenger seat until it was too late. “Kate, I’m so glad you suggested coming here,” he murmured. “I couldn’t think of a more romantic spot in all of La Jolla to have our first date.” He leaned forward and kissed me on the lips.

  I froze, lips glued firmly together, not kissing him back, but not pushing him away, either. As kisses went, this was better than my last one when I’d popped the guy in the nose and poured my drink over his head. That had been the first—and last—time I’d ever gone to a frat party. Why did every male who came within three inches of me think he could slobber all over my mouth?

  I squeezed Joshua’s hand in what I hoped was a friendly manner and stepped back. “Let’s snap a picture of the view and then get back to campus.”

  “Cool.” Joshua smiled. “Let’s do it.”

  I didn’t want to admit that I’d allowed my horrible roommate to get to me, but Lacey had a point. The only posts my Instagram account had had up until now were pictures of the dogs I took care of at Barktacular. At the very least, this adventure would be Instagrammable.

  Chapter 4

  I pulled my brown ponytail through the back of my baseball cap and put on dark sunglasses, even though it was 6:30 a.m. and hazy. The bus lumbered up Mt. Soledad Road, practically empty except for me and a few women wearing cleaning uniforms. I wore black running shorts and a navy-blue T-shirt I’d won at a cross-country meet in high school. Most of my wardrobe consisted of old T-shirts like this one. Although I had lived in nine different foster homes after Mom had died, I had managed to stick with cross country. Running was a sport that didn’t cost much money, and my high school coaches always found ways to cover my fees. Coach Jackson in particular might have sought custody of me herself if her husband hadn’t had multiple sclerosis and required round-the-clock care. Still, she’d always made sure I had a new pair of running shoes while I was at my original high school. They’d appeared in my locker, like magic.

  I chewed on my fingernails as the bus climbed the hill. We were almost at the final stop. Since this was a commuter bus, it would loop back momentarily and return the way it came. I would need to walk back down the hill and find a normal bus or else Uber back to campus.

  When the wrought-iron gate and Queen Anne palms were in sight I pulled the cord, signaling to the driver that I wanted to exit at the next stop. It was go-time.

  The bus dropped me off at the top of the hill, right before the road turned away to go to the monument. I stood on the hot sidewalk and watched the bus disappear. Except for the occasional car whizzing past me, the morning was quiet. Birds chirped in the distance. Somewhere close, a cat meowed.

  I jogged down the sidewalk at a slow pace and crept to a halt when I reached the wrought-iron gate. Bending down, I double-knotted my shoelaces while spying through the gate and down the long driveway. There was no sign of the Corvette. Maybe Esma had parked it in the six-car garage, or maybe she’d left. Didn’t her boyfriend mention something about Esma being in a graduate school program?

  A thickset middle-aged woman walked out onto the porch and picked up a newspaper. She didn’t look like a vampire. Did I have the right house? I double-checked the address. Yeah, this was definitely where Esma had parked the Corvette. Seconds later, the biggest cat I’d ever seen slinked behind her, bunting against her leg. She pe
tted it affectionately and directed the cat back inside. But it was too late; the cat had already caught my scent. It yowled and looked straight at me. Before I had the chance to dart away, the cat leaped off the porch and charged down the driveway.

  “Dukey!” The woman dropped the newspaper and ran after the cat in her stocking feet. “Come back to Mama!”

  I jogged in place a few seconds and pressed two fingers against my wrist, like I was an ordinary runner checking my pulse. The cat was at the gate now and jumping into the air, attempting to leap over the fence. When that didn’t work, it pawed at me through the wrought-iron bars and hissed. I ran down the sidewalk right as the woman grabbed the cat’s collar and hauled it away.

  Maybe exploring the neighborhood on two feet was a bad idea. I might have better luck as a stray dog. I looked up and down the street for a safe place to shift. I couldn’t risk someone seeing me, but I also couldn’t afford to lose my clothes. No way did I want to Uber home naked.

  A large hedge surrounding the property next door seemed like a good place to transform. Besides, I wanted to check that house out too. When I’d eavesdropped on Esma and Chase’s conversation, she’d mentioned that the Slayer’s Academy was a few doors down from her dad’s house. That meant that I needed to explore several homes in a row.

  I snuck behind the hedge and found a spot where foliage concealed me from view. I took off my shoes and stuffed my socks into the toe-boxes. Then I pulled off my shirt and shorts, folding them into a neat pile. It wasn’t until I stood there in my running bra and panties that I realized I’d forgotten something. What breed would I shift into? I hadn’t picked one yet. I thought fast. I needed a breed with good eyesight, sharp hearing, and the ability to blend into a swanky neighborhood like this one. But it should also be an animal that wouldn’t attract too much attention. That ruled out standard poodles and Portuguese water dogs. It was impossible to trot down the sidewalk with those fur coats and not have random strangers admire me. No, I needed something simpler, like a golden retriever.