by Noah Harris
“Well done, really Nick. You aren’t quite as good as Gideon during his first time, but no one ever is. You know, not everyone can even take animal form. Some people try and try and can never manage to master it,” Isda told him.
“So this is my base form, so to speak, set as human. Is this always the default base form for shifters? I mean, if a shifter is born to other shifters not connected to humans, what does it look like?” Nick asked.
“The base form doesn’t always have to be human,” Michael explained. “It tends to differ by pack and Wisdom, but the short answer is, the parents of the child pick the form when it is born.”
“Can it ever be changed? Can an adult shifter decide they want their base form to be something else?” Nick continued.
“No. Once you are cast at birth, you may change your appearance within that species, but your base species will always revert back to what you were born into.”
“Is it possible to select nothing, to just stay as a shifter?” Nick queried further.
“It is, technically, and some Wisdoms do not believe it to be wrong, but, in our Wisdom, it’s considered one of the cruelest things one can do to a child. Without a base cast, a shifter is a shimmering vapor only,” Nick looked at Gideon, who looked down. “And that child will always feel rootless, untethered, ungrounded, in the opinion of our Wisdom.”
Nick nodded, surmising there were many cultural subtleties of which he was not aware.
Exercise Two.
“I’m a pro at ‘mechs’, which is slang for inanimates. They used to call it inanimates, but that’s too long and formal, so when more mechanical devices came into being, it became slang just to call any non-living object a ‘mech’. It’s a bit of a misnomer, because not only are inanimates, like pencils or chairs, not mechanical, but we also use the term for things like apples or trees, which technically are living. So, basically, if it’s not an animal, a human, or an otherwise conscious species, it usually falls under this category,” Isda advised.
She started with an apple, which turned into a red ball, which turned into a larger white ball. The ball began rolling and then became a wheel, then a bike and then a smart car. The car broke down into a wagon, which became a tiny steam engine, whose parts disassembled and transformed into a crane and wrecking ball. She flashed back to Isda for a split second and then into a pencil, pen and a stack of paper.
“Again, good for surveillance,” Gideon noted.
Isda continued as the stack of paper became a notebook computer, which expanded into a wheeled wagon, which rolled and bounced against Nick’s leg, rolled once around his feet and then turned back to Isda again. She smiled and then fluffed her hair.
“See, nothing to it!”
“That looks more difficult,” Nick judged. He could wrap his mind around being an animal. Animals made sense, but these other things didn’t seem nearly as logical or intuitive.
“If you think it’ll be difficult,” Michael corrected. “Then it will be.”
“It’s similar to the principal of animals. You just need to concentrate and focus very hard on what you want to become, envision the parts and pieces moving; sometimes that can help. Start with something small maybe and close to you in size, like a lamp,” Isda told him.
“Can you be any size you want?” Nick asked.
“Theoretically. There are rumored to be shifters who can be skyscrapers and such, but the most I’ve ever been able to be is about three times my own volume, like a van maybe. I find it easier to collapse into very, very small objects. Miniature is easy for me. Everyone’s talents are different,” she replied.
Nick focused all his energy, but nothing was happening. He imagined an apple, a pencil, everyday objects he had come into contact with a million times before. The lamp was a no-go. Sadly, so was the motorcycle. Nick regretted that, thinking it would have been fun.
“Maybe this just isn’t my thing,” he confessed.
“It’s okay. It’s not really critical for where you currently are on your journey. There are many powers you don’t need to learn right away—like healing, or traveling as vapor. I think it’s really much more important for you to be able to tell when there are other shifters, or human predators, nearby,” Michael concluded.
Exercise Three.
“So, how can you tell when we’re nearby?” Michael asked.
“Well, the first time, I felt the hair on my body stand up, especially on the back of my neck, and I felt a little nauseated. I guess as you got closer, maybe my heart beat faster,” Nick replied.
“Good. You may also feel hot, burning in your ears or eyes, pain, especially in your spine or head, these can all be signs an enemy is nearby. The more the signs are in the realm of pain and heat, the more likely it is that the shifter is thinking of harming you. You see, even though you felt us approaching, you had no heat or pain,” Michael said.
“That sounds hard. I feel those things a lot normally anyway. It seems it would be hard to tell,” Nick concluded.
Isda rolled her eyes, “If you get off that stuff you’re on, your body would probably function properly, and then you would only have the signs when there’s a real reason to have them. What you’re taking basically operates like a drug does in humans. It can create sensations that aren’t there, like hallucinations, or it can dull sensations that are there, like most of the other drugs for humans. Your system is getting such mixed signals; it’s amazing you can function at all.”
“But if I’m off of it completely, won’t my powers just run amok?”
“I know you’ve been taught to fear your powers, Nick, but you control them—they don’t control you. If you ever feel like they’re getting out of hand, just breathe and focus and you’ll get the situation back within your control. Also, if you’re shifting, just revert back to your base human state. You may sweat, or feel bad, or have a racing heart, but you won’t be in any real danger. Those are just things the body does,” Gideon added.
“So, focus now. Other than us, are there any other shifters nearby?” Michael asked. Nick closed his eyes, breathing in and out evenly for a few minutes.
“I don’t think there are any others nearby,” Nick responded.
“Okay, how close then? There must be some somewhere. What’s the closest place you sense them?” Michael continued. Nick focused again and after a few minutes his mouth went dry. He felt a slight nausea and for no real reason, he saw the beach in his mind.
“The beach,” he answered. “Maybe… the Keys?” Michael nodded affirmatively. “So, you can not only feel comfortable that there are no predators nearby, but if you ever need help, need to find a pack, if you must, you can seek them out. “
“Which you wouldn’t need if you join our pack, of course,” Isda added.
Exercise Four.
“So, how do I tell the good humans from the bad?” Nick asked, getting to his real concern. He brushed his hair back from his forehead and looked a little pale. Michael wondered if this was too much on the heels of his recent physical compromise, but the recruit had to learn at least to be safe, so he pressed on.
“You won’t like the answer,” Michael warned. “For the most part, you’ll do it the same way you always have—good judgment. You can’t always tell good people from bad. You just have to know them, to test them, to see if they are honest with you over time. There’s no magic bullet for knowing whether someone is good or bad in their heart.”
“So, there’s no power I can use. I can’t smell them, or mind-meld with them, or whatever?”
“Not regular humans, but there is one very important exception. If the humans are those who are ingesting shifter parts and crushed bone to enhance their own health, longevity, or abilities, then you will be able to sense the shifter within. We don’t have a human here, but we have a small shifter bone, from one of our elders who passed and left his body for training.” Isda retrieved the small bone and reverently held it out.
“If you sense it, the way you sense us, you can
feel a small amount of energy within it, even though the shifter has died. This small energy is what the humans seek. It’s like marrow, in a way. They extract and use that power,” Isda handed Nick the bone, who accepted it out of a sense of duty. He sensed it might be a cultural insult to refuse. He held the bone for a minute, and perceived a very faint shimmer.
“I saw that!” he exclaimed.
“Good,” Michael reaffirmed. “Now, if a human had crushed and ingested this bone, they won’t shimmer sufficiently upon just viewing them for you to tell, but if you touch them like on the arm, brush past them on a train, whatever you need to do to make contact to find out, then you can summon that energy to one spot momentarily. I usually focus on their lower arm, just above the wrist, and the energy will converge in that spot for one moment, revealing a small circle of shimmer, usually the size of a quarter or half dollar, before dissipating back into their body again. The humans themselves never notice and this will help you discern at least some enemies from friends,” Michael concluded.
8
Nick began the next day still uncertain about joining the pack or not. These were only three members, after all. He needed to meet the entire pack at some point, and he also needed to think more. Joining a pack was supposed to be for life, so he thought it might be prudent to learn more about the shifter world before making such a huge commitment. But by the end of this day, he would have decided.
Nick entered the rehearsal space in time to catch the second half of Abby and Jared’s opening piece. To his eye, they performed it flawlessly, but the director proceeded to go through five minutes of exceedingly specific corrections, regarding what seemed like millimeter differences in the placement of hands and feet, their facial expressions and ‘feeling the music.’ They performed it a second time, wherein it appeared exactly the same to Nick, but the director beamed and praised them on making all the supposed adjustments. They took a break—what he had really come for—and he and Jared spent it huddled in the corner, talking privately, occasionally ducking into an alcove for a quick kiss, so as not to openly flaunt Jared’s disobedience of the director’s rules.
It seemed that no time had passed at all before they were separated again, but Nick decided to stay for the second half so they could spend the evening together after rehearsal was over. Nick was quietly checking his email in the corner when he heard a collective gasp in the auditorium he glanced up just in time to see the climax of Jared’s fall. He lay on the hard, wooden floor, scuffed from thousands of dance hours, holding his ankle with a pained expression on his face. Instead of an evening spent in fun, it was spent in the emergency room, where Jared left with a soft cast and an appointment to see a specialist. He was very quiet as Nick drove him home.
“It probably won’t need surgery,” Nick encouraged. “I bet the specialist says you’ll be patched up soon.”
“You don’t understand. An injury like this can end a career for a dancer, even if you heal. Even if I don’t need surgery, I may be out of commission just long enough to lose my role, which means I don’t get to be in the first-class next year, which means no shot at a major role next year, and it snowballs from there. After missing the timing boat in New York, I can’t believe I may end up doing the same thing here. Just missing the window.” Jared was really down, his ankle hurt and he was tired. Nick hoped he would see things more optimistically in the morning, before Jared added, “Nick, all I want to do is dance. It’s the only thing. I have no backup plan. If I can’t dance, I don’t think there’s anything I want to do.”
Later, back at home, Nick dialed Michael’s number. Though it was rather late, he knew he was likely to be up. Michael answered and they exchanged pleasantries for a few minutes before Nick got to the real reason for the call.
“I want to learn how to heal,” Nick requested.
“That is only taught to pack members,” Michael reinforced.
“Then I’m in. I’ll join the pack,” Nick confirmed, thinking Michael would be happy he finally agreed. However, hundreds of years of new recruits had taught Michael that those who didn’t join for the right reasons, never worked out in the long run. He was honest in his response.
“I’m not sure I want you to join the pack just because you want to attempt to help a temporary human toy.” His tone was measured and even, which took Nick by surprise. He hadn’t imagined they might not want him after all their courting. He chose his own words carefully as well.
“It’s not only about that, Michael. I have been thinking this over pretty carefully, you must surely know that as well.”
“Yes, and as recently as yesterday you still weren’t sure, and now suddenly you are,” Michael scolded.
“As of yesterday, I was already heavily leaning toward yes. I’m sure you know that. I knew I would do it eventually; I just wanted more time to drag my feet and avoid the responsibility I know I must accept. So, what if this was the last two percent that nudged me to do it, just a little sooner—by a matter of weeks perhaps—than I was going to do it anyway?” Nick wasn’t quite sure who he was trying to convince more, Michael or himself. It wasn’t his style to lobby so hard for something, but this was Jared’s every wish that he had worked toward for years, and there would be no getting it back, so why not just accelerate the time table?
Michael thought about this intently, pacing the room several times, all the while Nick kept himself silent on the other end of the phone.
“If you’re serious and truly ready to commit to the pack, then I’ll begin the process for you. I will set up the meeting with the rest of the pack and our delegate from the Wisdom,” Michael relayed.
“And the healing? It’s sort of… time sensitive,” Nick probed.
“For your human toy?” Michael asked.
“Come on, please don’t call him that. Haven’t you ever been friends with a human yourself?” Michael reflected on Nick’s words.
“Not recently,” he answered, after making Nick sweat a bit—which was just the beginning of treating him as a recruit. “Okay, meet me in the morning and I’ll show you how to heal. Human bodies are actually pretty easy, since they are so much less complex than our own and all.”
“Thanks, Michael,” Nick said, and meant it with true gratitude. He couldn’t believe he would be able to help Jared, something he could never have known was even possible, much less something he could have done, even a month ago.
It was, as Michael said, a fairly easy process to learn, for a shifter. It was because the shifter shared part of itself with the person being healed. Nick had to learn how to imagine himself in a plain vapor form, without actually converting. Then he had to understand how to actually convert just a small amount of his own cells into an even smaller bit of shifter vapor, which he then infused into the human, having programmed it through visualization to do its job, in this case healing bone and repairing the surrounding cells. Unfortunately, he had no real way to practice. He just had to meet up with Jared and then see if it worked. Although he was out of the order, Jared’s director still required him to attend all rehearsals and observe any changes and corrections. This was partially to be a good teammate supporting his peers, and partially in the hope that the director’s frantic prayers, that one of his main stars might somehow recover and be able to return to the show, would be answered. Nick offered to attend rehearsal, sitting by him for moral support in order to affect the ruse that would provide him a few minutes to attempt a healing. Michael told him Jared shouldn’t feel anything, and nothing was visible, so there was no reason Nick couldn’t try it right there in the auditorium.
Sitting beside Jared, they watched the rehearsal that was underway, and Nick placed his hand on Jared’s thigh. Jared grabbed his hand and, holding it, let it rest there as he focused on the actions of his poorly-performing understudy, a sophomore who needed both arms to lift Abby into even the slightest pose.
Nick focused his energy, as Michael had instructed. In an almost meditative state, Nick imagined the shifter va
por, within himself, becoming his true being surrounded by his human form. He imagined a small amount of that vapor separating from the rest, traveling down his arm, through his hand and down Jared’s leg to his injured ankle. Nick then imagined the vapor acting like a tiny physician, repairing the broken bone and all the torn muscles around it, until Jared was once again in perfect condition. Then, since it was his first attempt at healing, he pulled away his hand, wanting to make sure the vapor stayed in Jared where it belonged. He stepped away to the restroom and splashed some cold water on his face. Upon returning, he looked at Jared and at the ankle in its boot. Nothing seemed different. He supposed it was probably good that Jared didn’t jump up and shout, ‘Hallelujah! I’m healed!’ or something like that, but it would have been nice to know if it had worked. Well, the specialist appointment was in the morning, so they would find out soon enough.
The next morning, Nick and Jared sat in the waiting room after the x-rays were taken, waiting to hear the opinion of the specialist, and Nick was quietly hopeful.
“I think it feels a little better this morning,” Jared said. Nick hoped it wasn’t just optimism, or Jared’s attempt at false bravado, in the face of one of the scariest moments in his life. Shortly thereafter, a pleasant nurse with a bulky, purple sweater over her scrubs came to the door.
“Jared Finley,” she called. Here was the moment of truth. After twenty more minutes of waiting in the little room, the specialist showed up. He looked a bit like a cartoon villain who might be twisting his mustache, but when he spoke he was more like a sitcom character, kind of goofy and too smart, cracking a steady stream of jokes that weren’t funny.
