Remnants: A dark urban fantasy (Shifter Chronicles Book 2)

by Melle Amade

  “And Muiderkring South is ruled by the Berzerkens.” I say.

  “Exactly. The Order used to be a balanced rule between the three Muiderkrings, but now it’s pretty much dictated by El Oso.”

  “Do the Berzerkens even like him?” I ask.

  Roman shrugs. “He’s a strong leader, but I don’t think the Berzerkens would dominate if it wasn’t for El Oso’s hold over the other two Muiderkrings.”

  “If there was no El Oso, Muiderkring East and West would be free to have equal say in the Order?”

  Roman nods. “Theoretically, that’s how I see it.”

  What sort of society have I become a part of? I don’t dare ask the question out loud. Not even to Roman. It’s his people. Even the Berzerkens are his people. They’re shifters and ultimately, the ruling class that he’s sworn to. That I’m sworn to now.

  What would it be like if El Oso wasn’t ruling the Berzerkens? If the power of the Order was evenly spread between the three Muiderkrings? Maybe there would be room for some tolerance.

  “Earth to Shae,” Roman calls. He’s standing in the center of the ruined Sanctuary waving his hand to get my attention.

  I shake the thought out of my head. If I can’t master what I shift into before the presentation, it’s not going to matter much to me what the state of the Order is. I’ll be executed.

  I stand on the blackened stump of what used to be our Sanctuary, staring out into the open canyon. We originally picked this location for our hideaway because it’s so private and remote. If I’m going to shift into a dove, this is probably the best place to do it right now.

  “You ready?” Roman asks.

  “It’s as good a time as any,” I say.

  How many times have I stared out over this canyon wishing I could fly? It’s a natural response. People either want to jump off places like this, or they get scared of the height. Never in a million years did I think I’d really be able to fly. Now I’m terrified. Scared of the pain, the blood and of what I’ll turn into.

  I don’t say anything to Roman. He doesn’t need to know how much it hurts.

  I start to reach for the power to transform, but Roman grips my wrist. “You can’t just shift.”.

  “I thought that’s what we we’re working on.”

  “You can’t just shift without thinking. You’ve got to really focus.”

  “I do focus.” My voice strains. “I try really hard to control what I shift into.”

  “Maybe you’re trying too hard.” His gaze is lost in his thoughts. I know he’s trying to figure it out as much as I am.

  “I’m not like you guys.” I push hair out of my eyes and tuck it behind my ear. “I didn’t grow up thinking I’d be a shifter. Knowing I’d be able to turn into an animal.”

  “I think that might be my point.” Roman nods slowly. “You know how hard it is to look in the mirror and see yourself as something different?”

  I shake my head. I don’t even know what he’s talking about.

  “I’m not asking you to shift.” Roman paces the small space. “It’s not about shifting. It’s about transforming.

  I silently watch him walk back and forth as he works out the detail of a train of thought I can’t follow. He’s always been like this, his big brain working overtime on complex problems. It’s something I love about him. He can be so esoteric and yet so down-to-earth all in one person.

  “Each and every time you turn into an animal,” he continues, “you’re transforming into something else, something you find difficult to recognize as yourself. And, because you can’t get a clear grasp on that, it’s hard for you to shift into what you want to shift into. You might have a hard time seeing yourself as a raven.”

  “Keep going.” I tug at my hair. He might be getting on to something, but I still don’t know what it is. I don’t think I want to be the blood-thirsty raven that was beating the crap out of Murtagh.

  “My whole life I’ve known I’m a frog,” he says. “My parents are frogs, my grandparents are frogs, and I’m a frog. So, even as a kid, I’d play with frogs. I’d see frogs, and I’d have a rapport with them. I’d know I’d be in that water one day. I’d look into a puddle and see myself as a frog.”

  “I get it,” I say. “You’re a frog.”

  “You don’t have that luxury,” he says. “You never looked in the mirror and thought: ‘One day I’ll be a dove’ or ‘One day I’ll be a raven.’”

  “True,” I deadpan.

  “So.” He’s fired up and ignoring me. “Although now you’ve got a sense of what the feeling is to shift, you’re not giving it any clear direction. You’re just transforming willy-nilly–”

  “Willy-nilly? You didn’t just say that, did you?”

  “Stop, Shae,” Roman says. “You have to listen to me. You must pay attention. Shifting isn’t just something that happens. It’s an energy you need to learn how to direct. You have to control and guide those thoughts and shift into something the way you see it. Especially because you have two animals inside you that are fighting against each other.”

  I breathe in deeply. Roman is trying to help me, but even if he succeeds, there’s still the bigger problem. The raven and the dove are fighting against each other inside me and will tear me apart. “Unlike the rest of us, you have a choice. Every time I shift, I know I will be a frog. That knowing is in every cell of my body and guides the way my body transforms.”

  “Roman, I think ‘raven, raven, raven, raven’ the whole time I’m shifting.” I sigh in exasperation.

  “Your brain has so much power over you, over your body, over your actions, over everything. So, now what you have to do is guide your brain and control your thoughts.”

  “I just told you,” I say. “I’ve been trying that!”

  “Right,” he says. “When you close your eyes, what animal do you see?”

  “A raven. A dove. Whatever.” I shrug. “I know it’s not that helpful, but they’re equal inside my head.”

  “Okay. That’s good. It’s normal. At least you get it that you are a shifter.”

  “Yeah.” My smile is painful. “I’m a shifter. I get that.”

  “And what feeling do you attach to each shift?” he asks.

  “What do you mean what feeling?” I ask.

  “Which one do you like better?” he asks.

  “That’s a dumb question,” I say. “It’s like asking me if I like my mom or dad better. I like them both and for different reasons.”

  “How does being a raven make you feel?” he asks.

  “What is this, a psych session?” I ask. “How do you feel about this?” I do my best to mimic a thick German psychiatrist’s accent.

  “No.” Roman doesn’t laugh, which is probably a clue that I should take it seriously, too. “But you sure as hell better try to get this. I’m not trying to analyze you. I’m trying to wake you up to yourself so you can have some self-mastery. Real self-mastery. Not just affirmations that you are this or you are that. But you should know and accept what you are. Then you’ll be able to be it.”

  “But you are already telling me I can’t be a dove. Ever,” I blurt out. “So how am I supposed to accept what I am when I’m not even going to be able to keep that part of me? I know you guys all hate Passiefs, but I like being a dove.” I clap my hand over my mouth. It’s not fair to dump that on Roman. He’s not one of them.

  “I don’t hate Passiefs,” Roman says. “But the Order does. So, try and work with me.”

  “I am trying. I’m really trying.” I’m trying so hard to mentally keep up with him my brain hurts.

  “You have to understand how it works, Shae. I’m not making this stuff up. Your thoughts are empowered by your feelings. You can control your thoughts all you want, but unless you have the feeling attached to your thoughts, you’re not going to manifest it.”

  I groan. “Can you just dumb that down for me a little bit, Roman. We don’t all have a 3028 IQ.”

  “Look, you can sit here and say ‘rav
en, raven, raven, raven, raven.’ And then you can pull in the magic that shifts you. But if you are feeling like a dove, it doesn’t matter how much you say the word ‘raven’ in your head. The magic is going to deliver you a dove. It’s going to deliver you what you are feeling.”

  “So I have to make sure I feel like a raven when I shift?” I ask.

  “Exactly. That’s why I’m asking you what a raven feels like for you.”

  I think back to when I turned into a raven, when I attacked Murtagh. “I wanted to kill Murtagh and protect Henry.”

  “Good,” says Roman. “So, we’ll call that homicidal.”

  “I’m not sure I’ve heard good and homicidal used in the same sentence before.”

  “Now what about when you turn into a dove?” he asks.

  I think about the Bloedhart ceremony when I first became a shifter. How I was so into Aiden at that moment. I would have given up anything for him. And then, during the raven uprising, I wanted to give myself up to save my friends. Every time since then, I’ve been so completely confused, torn between feelings of anger and frustration and love and kindness.

  “I don’t know,” I say slowly. Roman waits patiently while I sort it out in my head. “The best I can say is that when I turn into a dove, I want to do something good for people.”

  Roman nods. “So, we’re going to call that sacrificial.”

  “Are you saying that every time someone turns into a raven they’re feeling homicidal?” I ask.

  “No,” says Roman. “We tap into whatever it is that we feel when we were running or jumping or flying, and we don’t have to put a label on it. But you are required to discern between the feelings that you have, the smallest, most minute feelings that you have when you are shifting. If we can solve that puzzle, you can know what it is and you can tap into it. You’ll get this thing.”

  “I thought you were a scientist, all chemistry and biology,” I say. “How do you suddenly sound like a psych major?”

  “The brain is the most powerful scientific weapon in the universe,” Roman says. “Every experiment and observation we have comes from it. I wouldn’t be much of a scientist if I ignore the power of the brain.”

  “But” I say, “what you’re basically saying is I have to be pissed off to turn into a raven.” My stomach plummets to the bottom of the canyon. I have to be like my mother, like the part of my mother that has scared me since I was a child.

  “I don’t know, but let’s try it.”

  “How are we going to do that?” I ask. “You’re not exactly the best person to piss me off.”

  “Right,” Roman says. “But I know who is.” His back is to me, and he’s already leaving the Sanctuary.

  “Where are you going?” I call.

  “C’mon.” He motions me forward. “We’re going to Van Arend manor.”

  10

  Roman doesn’t slow his steps as he pushes through the gates and strides up to the manor doors.

  “I don’t think we can just barge in there,” I say, hurrying after him. “What about the Order?”

  “It’s okay,” he says. “They’re at the offices today. Inspecting Van Arend’s operations.”

  “How do you know?” I ask.

  “Duh. My parents work there,” he says. “It’s all they’ve been talking about for the last few days.”

  I’m still taken aback by the audaciousness of us just walking through the front door. Roman leads me down the hallway, and into Aiden’s mom’s drawing room. Aiden and Callum are there, sitting deep in conversation when we walk in. They don’t seem surprised at all when we enter.

  “Aiden, can I see you?” Zan’s voice startles me from behind us. The faint smell of boiled cabbage clings to her.

  “How’s it going with Zaragoza?” I ask. She looks tired.

  “Okay. We’ve gone through almost everything.” The smile she gives me is forced. “But we’ll find something.”

  “What do you need?” Aiden doesn’t hesitate. He’s up and standing by her in a moment.

  Zan’s not her usual cocky self. Her hair is pulled back in a ponytail, and she keeps her gaze to the ground. I have got to find some time to talk to her alone.

  “I want to get access to one area of the library that I can’t seem to reach,” she says. “It looks like there’s a book missing out of your collection.”

  It almost seems like she’s making up an excuse to talk to her boyfriend. But why would she do that? He seems perfectly happy to talk to her.

  “Yeah, of course,” he says.

  “It won’t take much time.”

  “It’s no trouble.” Aiden’s smile is quizzical. He draws his arm around her shoulders, gives her a quick kiss on the head, and ushers her out of the room.

  “I’m going to check on Zaragoza.” Roman’s gone before I can offer to go with him.

  “What was that about?” I ask Callum, who has stood up and is moving towards the door.

  “Things are a little tense with El Oso in town,” he says.

  “A little?” I ask, leaning against an antique table. “That was like all elbows and knees. Zan’s always been so self-confident. Now it’s like she doesn’t know what to do around Aiden.”

  “I guess relationships will do that to you,” Callum shrugs.

  We stand there in silence looking at the door where Aiden and Zan just left, and it feels…comfortable, like we’re friends again. Like we’ve always known each other, always been close, and like we’ll always be friends. It’s been a long time since I’ve been alone in a room with Callum. It feels nice. Like a cozy sweater I’ve had forever. I want to reach out and touch his leather jacket. Not to kiss him, but just to let him know that I’m here. We’re here.

  But I don’t.

  “How are you holding up?” I ask. “With all the Ravensgaard in your house?”

  “Yeah,” he mutters. His hand runs through his hair. “It’s been a big change, that’s for sure. All those years of listening to Mom and Dad fighting, just me and Jon. And then, no one, except the awkwardness of the manor. Now, I’ve got a hundred-people jumping to my beck and call.”

  “Must be nice.” I shrug.

  “I don’t even know what to tell them to do half the time.” He laughs. “Then there’s a couple, like you, who are always giving me a hard time.”

  “Come on!” I grin. “You think you don’t know what’s going on? I’m confused, like, at least a hundred percent of the time!”

  A smile pulls at the corner of Callum’s mouth. “You know what I mean,” he says. “It’s just I went from being a party of one to a banquet table for a hundred. All in like three weeks.”

  “Yeah.” I nod.

  “I’m really relying on Aiden and Lord Van Arend to help me. Honestly, sometimes I think I’m just a sixteen-year-old kid and, well, I am just a sixteen-year-old kid. But suddenly I have to figure out how these hundred people—it’s not even a hundred people; it’s a hundred families. They all have spouses and kids they’re bringing over from Ireland. I mean, some of them, maybe twenty or so, don’t have families, but most of them do, and well, they expect me to make decisions for them. They’re doing things like getting paid and paying rent and buying groceries and…you know. I haven’t done any sort of thing like that. Mom and Dad and then Lord Van Arend took care of it, and I have to understand things I’ve never even known—”

  “Hey. It’s all right,” I say, because I can hear the strain in his voice. “I saw you at the front of that chapel. You’re a natural-born leader. Really.”

  “I don’t know about that,” he says. “Natural or not, half the time I don’t know what the hell I’m doing.”

  “You were pretty magnificent at the chapel,” I say. “When we were swearing fealty to you.”

  “You know what I really keep thinking, Shae?” he asks. “I keep thinking that Jon would have been really good at this. A little wild. A little reckless. But he would have made a great Ridder. So, every day as I’m doing things, I keep trying to fil
l my brother’s shoes and make him and my mom proud.”

  “You’ve got this.” I choke the words out, longing to hug him but not able to bridge the gap.

  “Doesn’t always feel like that from over here.”

  “Aiden’s dad’s not just going to dump you in that position. He’s going to be there to help you.”

  “Have you seen him lately?” Lines of stress etch back across Callum’s face.

  Whatever lightheartedness we were getting to is gone, but he has a point. “You and Aiden are doing just fine.”

  “It’s different for Aiden,” he says. “You’ve seen him. He was trained in this stuff. He’s been raised to be the Heir to the Kortsrijk, no matter what. I was never supposed to be anything.”

  The corners of my mouth turn up. I can’t help it. “I know exactly how you feel,” I say. “We don’t have to be trained or raised up or anything. We just should adapt to what is in front of us. Everything that is in front of us. We’re born and then we go through life one step at a time. You think I knew a month ago I was going to be a shifter? And a nuvervel, at that?”

  He nods and before I realize what he’s doing, he’s reached forward and grabbed my hand. Warmth shoots up my arms. He’s just staring at me. “It’s going to be okay,” he says. “We’re going to figure it out.”

  “We have to juggle with whatever challenges are brought in front of us,” I choke the words out. “When you sit here and say you weren’t raised to be a leader of people… How do you know? You think Jon was supposed to be the next Ridder. That Jon and Aiden were supposed to be the team, and now Jon’s gone, you’re the Ridder, and now you don’t know how to do that.”

  “Pretty much.” He nods.

  “What? Do you think I know how to be a Ravensgaard? How to be a nuvervel? How to keep it from killing me? At least in your case, someone can teach you how to do your job. Nobody can teach me anything about being a nuvervel. Heck, they can’t even teach me to be a Passief. My people don’t even exist. You just have to, you know… You just have to take it one mistake at a time.”