by Amira Rain
“I need to show you something,” Cara grinned back, bouncing slightly even as she attempted to hold still. Mary-Lou smothered a fond grin; little pink flowers dotted Cara’s white socks. “It’s so cool!”
“Is it, now,” Mary-Lou followed after the younger girl, not bothering to match her enthusiastic gait. “Where are we going?”
“The library!” Cara threw a mischievous wink behind her shoulder as she added, “Jonas is already there.”
Mary-Lou tried very hard not to blush, failed as Cara proceeded to alternatively laugh at and tease her for the rest of the way to the basement.
The Cabin – as Mary-Lou continued calling it, capital letter and all, even after she had been informed its official name was actually, “The Cat’s Cradle” – turned out to actually be a bed-and-breakfast and not, as Mary-Lou had previously suspected, a top-secret bunker.
The Cabin’s visitors were, however, exclusively of the top-secret kind.
A Shifter Inn, Mary-Lou had thought with a grin, Why the hell not.
The first of them had arrived in the dead of night, hours after Mary-Lou had retreated to what would become her room in the Cabin. Hyper-aware, still running high on fear and excitement, Mary-Lou heard his heavy steps echo against stone and wood as he climbed up the stairs to the second level. She curled into a ball beneath her covers, trying to think through her panic: Was this an attack? Were her parents safe? Damn it, was there something she could use as a weapon—
A soft knock against her door had Mary-Lou almost falling off the bed, a startled yelp catching in her chest.
“Are you okay?” Jonas had called from outside her door, voice concerned.
Mary-Lou had taken a deep breath, feeling a bit like her heart was about to jump out of her chest. “I am fine!” she answered in the end.
Jonas had snorted, the sound sleep-heavy. “Right. I heard you hyperventilating all the way from across the hall. Are you opening the door, or are we going to continue chatting through a slab of wood?”
That is how Mary-Lou learned of Shifters’ astonishingly sharp senses. She pestered Jonas with increasingly uncomfortable questions regarding that and all other potential physical enhancements the Shifter species possessed, mostly to watch him fidget and blush like a schoolboy.
Mary-Lou had fallen asleep just as dawn pinked the skies. She woke five hours later, rather horrified to find her head pillowed on Jonas’ broad chest. At least she had not drooled. Much.
After extricating herself from the slumbering man, Mary-Lou spent a few minutes wandering about the second level of the Cabin. Had anyone asked her, Mary-Lou would have told them she was familiarizing herself with the place. Which was not completely untrue; Mary-Lou had been too frazzled to pay much attention to her surroundings the night prior, and was rather curious about the layout of the house. The fact that she could not for the life of her recall where the hidden staircase that led to the first floor was – well, hidden. Irma seemed to pull it out of thin air, sturdy steps unfolding like origami from the ceiling.
There were four rooms beside hers on this level, each furnished with soft rugs, a large bed, and an assortment of beautifully carved cabinets and tables. Mary-Lou peeked in each one, feeling a bit giddy and childish. There was so much warmth in this house – Mary-Lou felt a pang of longing, then the cold rush of guilt on its heels. This was not her home, and Irma and Jonathon were not her parents; not the ones who raised her. Not the ones she would return to, after all was over.
“Is there ever a time when you are calm?”
Mary-Lou had jumped about a foot in the air with a terrified squeal, wide eyes blinking the previously empty hallway into focus. A few steps away, Jonas grinned – sleep-tousled and warm and utter bastard.
“Why, Jonas?” she had groaned, hand pressed over her rapidly-beating heart, “Would it kill you to say hi like a normal person?”
“I made plenty of noise,” Jonas smirked and stepped closer, “Not my fault you were too busy snooping to hear me.”
“I was not snooping!” Mary-Lou denied instinctively, warmth flooding her cheeks. She had not been! …At least, she had not meant to. “And you should really stop pouncing on unsuspecting humans – it is not good for our blood pressure.”
Jonas had frowned then, smile dimming as he thought over her words. A moment later, Mary-Lou squeaked as she found herself pressed against the hallway wall, Jonas’ body so close she could feel his breaths.
“I really scared you?” the man rumbled, apologetic and soft. Mary-Lou had shaken her head, more to clear her head than deny his words. She felt him sigh into her hair, trembled when a large hand lifted to cover hers where it pressed against her chest, forgotten.
“Your heart is not slowing down. Was it really that bad?” Jonas questioned. “I am sorry. I really did think you had heard me. At times I forget how dull human senses are.”
Mary-Lou had been too flustered to take offense at the sympathetic arrogance blatant in both Jonas’ words and his careful tone. She felt too dizzy, too warm – sick with a heat that seemed to smolder in her very flesh. Mary-Lou shook her head, sought to clear her mind enough to step away from Jonas’ own burning body.
Jonas let out a sneeze as a golden-brown curl tickled his nose, quickly followed by a surprised bark of laughter. The tension that had stretched between them eased, but did not disappear – not even as Jonas moved away, blue eyes studying the wooden floor with undue interest.
“The stairs are this way,” he had finally muttered, head tilted toward an uneven portion of the floor some steps away. Mary-Lou had followed his broad back down the stairs and into the brightly-lit kitchen, curiously subdued.
The man whose arrival had so scared Mary-Lou the previous night turned out to be an aged gentleman by the name of Nicholas. He had gray hair, bushy eyebrows, and a charming smile that lit up his whole face.
“My!” Nicholas had boomed as Mary-Lou walked into the kitchen behind a still-flustered Jonas. He stood up from a plush-backed chair and offered a large hand, “Irma, she is your mirror image! Except the eyes – the eyes are all John. How are you, my dear?”
Mary-Lou had allowed her hand to be shaken, her chair to be pulled for her by the older man, bemused at his enthusiasm. She had attempted to keep up, but was still a question behind when Nicholas’ animated focus shifted to Jonas.
“Edwards!” he had exclaimed, “Is that Jonas Edwards?” Nicholas leaned forward into his chair, eyes widening comically as he took in Jonas’ flour-dusted form. Mary-Lou stifled a smile, admiring the speed at which Irma had gotten the younger man to help in making breakfast. “Last time I saw you, you were thin as a birch tree!” Nicholas continued, “Now look at you – could move a mountain, I bet you could!”
Jonas had smiled, wide and boyish. Mary-Lou focused on the pancakes Jonathon placed in front of her, trying and failing not to be utterly charmed. “Good to see you again, Nick. Ma said you moved to Romania for good.”
“Bah,” Nicholas waved a broad hand, “Too many stinking vampires over there. Most cliché species ever, I swear. Plus, how could I stay away at a time like this?” He had grinned at Mary-Lou, quite obviously using “this” to refer to her.
“You knew I was coming?” she questioned, then added, “vampires are real?”
The older man nodded, a bit of surprise showing on his face. “Of course I did. Everybody does.” He had glanced at her silent parents, a frown weighing his face. “What have you folks been telling this poor girl?”
“Nothing, mostly,” Mary-Lou had muttered over a familiar rush in her ears. Vampires. Shape-shifters. What next – faeries? She paused. That would actually be pretty cool. Except with her luck, they will probably turn out to be vicious, blood-thirsty little buggers. Mary-Lou shook her head, focusing back on the conversation at hand.
“There is time yet to explain everything,” Irma insisted, and Jonathon added, “We did not want to overwhelm her.”
“Don’t baby her too much,” Nicholas had warned dark
ly. “Better to be scared and ready than ignorant and dead. Now,” the man clapped wrinkled hands, “Where are my pancakes?”
Mary-Lou vividly recalled wondering if enhanced emotions came with the Shifter package, right alongside extreme strength and super-hearing. Between Nicholas’ flickering moods, Irma and Jonathon’s domineering posturing, and Jonas’ increasingly protective behavior, Mary-Lou was steadily nearing the end of her mental calm. It had been but two days.
Most unexpectedly, respite came in the form of another Shifter. Sasha drifted onto the Cabin’s land one misty morning, quiet and serene as he passed by a furiously swearing Mary-Lou and a grinning, shirtless Jonas.
They were practicing punching, and Mary-Lou really, truly wished she could say that she was kidding. It was, sadly, the truth: Irma had enlisted Jonas’ help in what she called “desensitizing” training the very first time Mary-Lou had pulled a punch while sparring with the older woman. While Mary-Lou was perfectly comfortable knocking a deserving punk on their ass, she proved less-willing to inflict lasting damage.
So, yes, it was not the best first meeting. Jonas was quick to prove to her that it was not the worst, either, for the worst happened a moment later when Jonas roared and jumped the other man, claws and eyes flashing.
What followed was a confusing jumble of growls, punches, and Mary-Lou’s incensed screaming of things such as, “OH MY GOD, WHERE DO YOU PEOPLE KEEP COMING FROM,” and “CAN YOU PLEASE NOT KILL EACH OTHER BEFORE BREAKFAST?” She was mostly ignored, although Sasha later told her that he got a kick out of her flustered squawking.
It was not until Irma charged out of the Cabin, roar shaking the skies that the two men pulled apart. Jonas’s broad chest was covered in scratches and bites; a no-doubt expensive dress shirt hung in pieces about Sasha’s slender waist. Irma regarded the two young men with narrowed eyes, not unlike a mother scolding her errant children.
“What,” she had thundered, “Do you two knuckleheads think you are doing?”
Jonas’ eyes were mutinous, but he kept silent. Sasha’s gaze was placid and uncaring.
Irma sighed, motioning Mary-Lou to her side. Mary-Lou went, keeping a wary eye on the two testosterone-driven idiots.
“Sasha, this is my daughter, Mary-Lou,” Irma said, and Mary-Lou felt a flush of pleasure warm her cheeks at the acknowledgment Irma continued, “And that,” she nodded her head at Jonas, “is Jonas Edwards, of the House of the Lion.”
“Pleasure to meet you,” Sasha offered to Mary-Lou and then Jonas, a bit too genuine for someone who had been attacked with extreme prejudice. “My name is Alexander Ivanov, of the House of the Snake.”
“A worm,” Jonas had spit out; the other man promptly ignored him in favor of Mary-Lou. “You may call me Sasha,” he told her. Jonas let out a disgruntled snarl.
“Come.” Irma motioned them to stand, then turned and walked back toward the Cabin with the confidence of someone used to leading, “Do not forget that you are both guests here. There is no fighting in my home.”
Mary-Lou watched the two men mutter embarrassed agreements and follow, a bit of pride welling up in her chest. Her mother was awesome.
Except that she was not her mother, not where it counted. Mary-Lou reminded herself of that as she hurried to follow, secretly wondering if it was not too late. If she was not already too used to a home woven from metal, to friends who were half-wild inside
.
On the upside, Sasha proved to be as calm and composed as he first appeared. He did not rise up to Jonas’ continuous posturing; neither did he try to appease him by evading Mary-Lou. When push came to shove later that night – over seating arrangements of all things – he did the mature, logical thing and pulled Jonas aside to talk things out. Like adults. Mary-Lou was most impressed.
She was less impressed when she overheard something about “mates” and “not here to steal your woman, jeez,” but she would take what she could get – as well as continue ignoring the fact that Jonas had somehow come to see her as his. It was not something Mary-Lou was ready to think about, not with trouble looming ahead. She chose to focus on the fact that she now knew Jonas – and Sasha’s – animal forms, and decided to pester each man accordingly.
“So,” she had said to Sasha as he helped her clear the table after dinner, “You are a Snake-shifter.”
“I am,” Sasha agreed. After a quick glance toward an obviously eavesdropping Jonas, he turned to face her fully. Mary-Lou smiled to see a mischievous spark in his eyes, just to yelp a moment later when a forked tongue hissed inches from her lips.
“Oh my God,” Mary-Lou laughed, watching Sasha slurp back the twisting muscle back into his mouth. When the man stuck his tongue out again, it was perfectly round and human. “That was amazing! I didn’t know you guys could shift part-way,” she enthused.
“Not everyone can,” Sasha said, smugness obvious in his voice, “It takes skill.” Jonas muttered a low, “Show-off,” and stalked into the den.
Mary-Lou elected to ignore him. “What else can you do?” she asked Sasha instead.
They spent the rest of the night talking about the physics of shifting, snake diets, and other vaguely important topics. By the end, they had even managed to drag Jonas into the discussion: The other man had some pretty strong opinions about hunting while Shifted – namely, a huge NO – which Sasha happened to share. Mary-Lou let them blabber about raw meat and associated diseases, happy to see the two get along. Even if the topic was rather stomach-turning.
She did not think much of the absence of her parents and Nicholas. Not until the next morning, when all three reappeared with a grinning girl in tow.
“Hi!” Cara had bounced up to Mary-Lou, smile so sunny it gave a still-sleepy Mary-Lou whiplash. “I’m Cara. You are Mary-Lou, right? Sorry I’m late, the principal of my school’s an asshole, wouldn’t let me leave. Had to fake a death in the family because of the old geezer – you know what a pain it is to get a hold of my mom long enough to get her to cover my ass? Thank goodness she happened to be between flights when he called, or I would’ve had to legitimately run away. And that would be, like, the third time. Didn’t want to get kicked out from another boarding school, you know?”
Mary-Lou had blinked down at the other girl, half-full coffee mug clutched in one hand.
“Ummm, yes?” she had said in the end. The girl had grinned, pink lips parting to no doubt let out another deluge of cheerful words.
“Cara,” Nicholas had stepped forward then, thumping a large hand against Cara’s bony shoulder. The girl did not give an inch, confirming Mary-Lou’s suspicions about her identity, “Let the girl wake up before talking her ear off.”
“Sorry,” Cara offered, grin no less bright, “Got a bit excited. I am not usually this bad – haven’t slept too much the past couple of days. I always chatter when I am sleep-deprived.”
“That’s okay,” Mary-Lou smiled back. It would be nice to have another girl around, she thought – someone she could talk to without the danger of unhappy pouts (Jonas, when she tried talking to Sasha alone) or inexplicable and often awkward tension (again Jonas, when they happened to be alone). She told Cara as much, omitting the part about potentially jealous blondes.
“You’ve been surrounded by boys the past week?” Cara had gasped, “No wonder your clothes are all terrible! Don’t worry, I’ll help you choose something more flattering. Is there Wi-Fi up here?”
Or not. Mary-Lou had watched Cara bound toward the den and the family computer housed within – pointed the way by Irma’s suspiciously helpful self – with rising apprehension. This girl might be trouble.
A day and twenty rush-ordered, jam-packed boxes of clothing later, Mary-Lou was sure of the fact.
“They are a present,” Cara had wobbled when Mary-Lou refused to even touch the brown cardboard, “You can’t refuse a present!”
“This is a thousand dollars’ worth of clothing!” Mary-Lou had argued back. “I can’t accept a thousand-dollar present!”
“Psh, that’s like, a single trip to the mall,” Cara had dismissed. “Also, three thousand, and there are some shoes in there, too.”
“What mall are you shopping at,” Mary-Lou had groused, but nonetheless allowed herself to be bullied into accepting the overly-generous – and unnecessary – present.
The terrible thing was, Mary-Lou actually ended up liking the damned clothes.
“Hot damn,” Cara had whistled when she got her first glimpse of Mary-Lou in a smartly-tailored, colored blouse and a bark-gray pencil skirt. “You should be ashamed of yourself! Hiding curves like those under baggy sweaters and pajama pants!” she admonished. Mary-Lou waved her comments off, but was secretly quite pleased with her look: She was not swimming in the garments, yet they did not cling unpleasantly or hang revealingly open over her admittedly large breasts. Style with just enough of sass – she approved.
