“I guess I would like to have a shifter at a party.”
“What?” She stepped back in surprise. “I thought we were dirty.”
“Yeah, but if word gets out I got one or two shifters into a human party, that would be a big deal for me. Like, some real credentials.”
Tina snapped her fingers as she thought of a solution. “What about a shifter band? We have a great group of musicians on the compound. They shift as they play. You’ll love them.”
“Oh, whoa! That would be insane.” He laughed a little as he shook his head in wonder. “You shifters always surprise me. You get me that band for the 14th of next month, and I’ll de-collar five more. Deal?”
“Deal.” Tina held her hand out to shake on it, but the guy just looked at her hand and then moved away. She let her limb fall and sighed. The guy she’d made the deal with passed me without a second look; I was sitting on the ground as if I’d fallen asleep out in the open. I drew no attention. After I heard his footsteps fade off into the distance, I stood and found Tina standing just over me.
“So,” she said, that little half-smile-half-smirk of hers on her face, “still practicing this great vanishing act of yours.”
“Yes. No one is putting a collar on me.” I quickly threw my arms around her in a big hug and held her for a long time. She squeezed me right back. It was amazing to have contact with someone else after all that time alone in the desert. She felt like a cool drink of water after all the heat I had withstood for hours on end. I smelled her hair and recognized the apple-scented soap that she always used at the compound.
“Where is your collar?” I asked her, pulling away. She smiled and moved her shoulders from side to side to show me the lack of metal.
“That guy I was talking to, has a device that unlocks them without setting off any alarms. You just put it in your bed or somewhere in your house and the government thinks you’re sleeping or just wandering around your home. It’s great. The only bad thing is you can’t keep it off for more than eight hours or else they get suspicious. Of course, now I owe a massive favor to a total jerk, but it’s worth it. Everyone’s tired of being locked up in their own house.”
“It’s still a shackle. The shifters should revolt. No one should put up with any of this.”
She rolled her eyes at my insolence. “Larissa, you know everyone is too scared. Bachmann has everyone under his thumb. The only people who even consider standing up to him are the losers I dig up in the city, and they’re all separated and, well, unpleasant.” She paused and then added, “What are you doing here?”
“Looking for something.”
She cocked her head at me. “What are you looking for?”
“I don’t know yet. So, I’m looking.”
She sighed and put her hands on my shoulders. “Are you hungry?”
I nodded, and she turned me so that we walked further toward the city looking for all the world like a couple on a date. We made our way further south into the heart of the city where we could peruse the street vendors. I could smell roasted meat and toasted breads. My stomach rumbled so loudly that Tina and I had to suppress a giggle at the sound. We found an outdoor collection of plastic tables and chairs and then kept walking until we were just a few feet away and able to duck behind a tall, crumbling building.
“Ready?”
Tina nodded. “Ready.”
I wandered out to the vendor and consulted his menu of pictures as if I were undecided. “Hey, how’s it going,” I said, focusing on the little images.
“Not bad. Just working. Let me know what I can get you.”
“Sure, just give me a second.” I stroked my chin and kept my gaze forward as a scream let loose from behind me.
“Wolf! Wolf!” Everyone, who was eating, suddenly sprang up and ran away as Tina charged forward, foaming at the mouth and growling like a wild thing. I quickly ran over to a table full of food and grabbed everything I could as she ran off in the direction we’d come, and I took off after her. I found her on a park bench with her legs crossed and a big smile on her face.
“Hi, honey. Did you pick up dinner?”
I laughed and tossed her a couple of sandwiches. “Sure did. Dig in.” I sat next to her and bit into my own food. I had to force myself to eat slowly and not make myself sick. A few people passed the abandoned tables and saw us on the bench, but no one made the connection. Some even did the same, helping themselves to barely touched food so as to not see it go to waste. Another couple sat across from us and, after a moment’s hesitation, we resumed our talk in a whisper.
“Where have you been?”
“Out beyond the compound. In the desert.”
“Doing what?”
I filled Tina in on everything I had been focused on, all the trials and tribulations of living in the Nothing. I let her know I thought there was a great underground body of water but I had no way of traveling it without some kind of apparatus. I didn’t even know the name of what I needed; I just knew I couldn’t do it with the air in my lungs.
She listened patiently as she chewed her food and then nodded slowly. “Okay. I think I know what you’re looking for.”
“What’s it called?”
“I don’t know the name,” she said, cuddling up to my side to maintain the appearance of being my girlfriend out with me for a date, “but I know where it is. Let’s go for a walk.”
We stood up and threw our refuse in the recycling bins. We watched our garbage get sucked down the bin vacuum and then moved on. She pointed me in the direction of the shopping district, and we walked arm in arm into the heart of enemy territory. A law enforcer rode by on his motorcycle and didn’t even turn his head at the sight of us.
Chapter Three
On a Mission
The first time I shifted was the first time my mother slapped me. I was fifteen, far older than most shifters who discover their abilities by accident. I don’t know what had taken me so long; perhaps it was my devotion to my studies or my constant efforts to control the world around me. Whatever the reason, I spent fifteen years believing that I, and the people around me, were human.
At the time, there was a kind of witch hunt happening in Madagascar. Humans who found an animal they believed to be a shifter brought them to the local church to have the minister inspect it. Most of the time, they were just normal animals; little birds, innocent lemurs, or large, shiny bugs that had never shifted, but the priest always declared the creature “demonic” or “evil.” And then, it was killed.
I always felt sad at the pronouncements by the priests at the church. I somehow knew that they were wrong, but I also understood that it was not my place to correct these loud, enthusiastic men. I couldn’t; they had devoted themselves to cultivating fear and unrest. If I went against them, I would surely have a horrible fate myself.
One day, a farmer found an actual shifter. It was a snake he had discovered out among the cassava, and he caught it in a bag and brought it to the church. Just as the priest approached the bag, the snake transformed into a young boy. He couldn’t have been older than six and had big, shining tears in his eyes. I remember the shock I felt at hearing the story; no one I knew went anywhere near snakes. That day, I saw a boy who could actually be one.
Through his hiccupping cries, the child explained that he hadn’t known he could be a snake. It was an accident. He didn’t want to hurt the farmer, he just found himself in need of a warm place and saw a nice rock in the field. He was just going to lie there and wait until he changed back, but the farmer caught him first. He explained that he was a true believer and didn’t want to be a shifter anymore, adding that he would do whatever the priest told him to so that he could stop this horrible thing inside him.
“My son,” the priest said, putting his hand on the young boy’s head, “there is only one way we can help you.”
“Please,” he said, “I want to be good. What must I do?”
“You must stand there and n
ot move.” The priest moved away and let the angry mob of frightened people rush in on the young man and tear him limb from limb. I watched from the edges and made sure to keep my eyes dry. Inside, my heart was breaking, but outside I was silent and still just like that little boy had been in his final moments of life.
So, shifting had never been something I had dealt with. I thought it was a problem for the other people of my village, not me. Why bother stressing over something that wasn’t a part of my life? I saw no point.
One day, I was out watching some of the other children swim. I was reading up in the branches of a tree as they splashed and teased one another.
“You’re a shifter! You’re going to turn into a fish and bite me!”
“I am not! You’re the shifter. You become underpants and live on people’s butts.”
I rolled my eyes at the sound of all of this, but the eyeroll didn’t end. My pupils got stuck up at the top of my eye socket and wouldn’t come back down. Slowly, the book I had been so engrossed in slid from my legs and fell to the grass beneath me. I tried to cry out for help, but I had no voice. I gripped the tree and was horrified to realize I had long, sharp claws that were digging into the bark. My vision became new and sharper; everything around me was suddenly more dazzling and detailed, and I could smell each individual thing around me as layers on top of layers as opposed to one outdoor scent.
No one noticed my new shape as I stayed in the tree. In just a moment, I was covered in fur, had long, sharp teeth for hunting and strong, spry limbs for climbing, jumping, and running. I tried to stay calm, but my heart was going insane. What had happened? What did this mean? I tried to breathe, but each breath carried the scents of the small creatures around me, and none of them smelled anything less than mouthwatering.
Even in my animal form, I knew that I had to hide myself, to get out of that situation as quickly as I could. I waited until the children in the water were watching a boat pull in and waving, before I jumped from the tree and sprinted off in the opposite direction. From behind me, I heard a yell of “Fossa!” from one of the women who had come down to wash her clothes, but I didn’t stop. I just ran, and ran, and ran.
I went out into the forest near my home and climbed a mango tree as high as I could go. Then I held myself very still and listened.
It didn’t take long for several people to knock on my family’s front door and demand to see me. “We believe your daughter is a fossa shifter,” one man said. My father shook his head and explained that it was impossible; I was a teenager, after all, and shifters revealed themselves much younger. He said I had not come home; perhaps I had encountered a shifter. This made everyone panic and run off to arm themselves against the phantom creature in the village.
After they were gone, my father emerged from the house again, but he didn’t seem to go anywhere. My father was a tall, muscular man with a strong stance. Years of hard, physical labor had sculpted his muscles into a beautiful, high-relief, each sinew a story of struggle and victory. I watched as those muscles lengthened and changed into the same shape mine had taken on and gasped at the sight of my father in fossa form as well.
Once fully animal, he prowled toward my tree and smelled it. Then he looked up and flicked his ears at me. He didn’t growl or bare his teeth, he just lay on the ground and waited for me to join him.
I climbed down carefully, keeping an eye and an ear out for my hunters, but saw no one. When I reached the ground, he was already changing back. I sat and watched him as he slowly rolled into a standing posture, fully human once more. “Larissa,” he said in his human voice, “you must change back as well.”
I closed my eyes and demanded that I take on a human shape, but I felt nothing change. When I opened my eyes again, I was the same, but now I could see both of my parents looking down at me. My mother was decidedly angrier than my father.
“You change back right now, you horrible girl!” My father reached out to calm her but she smacked his hand away. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done? We’ll never be able to live here again!”
The sadness in my heart pushed through so powerfully that it brought me back into a human state. I wiped the tears away and looked at my mother’s human face as she gaped at mine.
“Your star,” she whispered, “it’s gone.” She stepped forward to touch my face in the place where my birthmark had been all those years, and I felt the new, smooth skin that hand formed under her hand. She gave me a sharp slap and knocked some more tears loose.
To my father, she said, “We have to leave. Get your things.”
Without a word, we followed her inside to pack a small bag each. We left all our lovely furniture, our television, and our stereo in their original places. My father penned a letter to whomever might find it, explaining that he and my mother had run away to the new country to get away from this house. It was too full of memories of their daughter, who had, he explained in his writing, surely been the victim of a horrible shifter. He folded the letter in half, tucked it under a paperweight, and we were off.
My star never came back. I remember how shocking it was to suddenly have young men smiling at me. No man had ever looked my way before the mark disappeared. They had all seen my massive black mark as some kind of proof that I was dirty or unlucky or some such nonsense. I, meanwhile, had never given human attraction, or any kind of relationship with a boy, any thought. Suddenly, the opportunity was presenting itself left and right, and I didn’t quite know what to do.
My family and I spent our entire savings on three plane tickets to the new country. We were on the plane for over fifteen hours, and I thought I would go completely insane, but I kept my brains in my head and landed safely with my parents in the open field that, at the time, served as an airport. From there, we learned of the new shifter laws and applied for some kind of housing.
We went from a gorgeous house on the beach to a decrepit apartment. At least they didn’t hunt us down or chant for our blood. At least we could say what we were. However, we couldn’t show that we knew how to read, and school was suddenly off-limits to me. That was until The Hills and the new regime. As soon as I came to The State, I knew something stunk. The overlord of a president, the bizarre living restrictions combined with work expectations – I didn’t know which way was up for a long time. My parents suffered greatly. Not only were they shifters, they were foreign shifters, so most humans would cover their children’s eyes at the sight of my mother and father. Even members of the shifter community wouldn’t talk to us before The Hills.
***
“Hey, daydreamer,” Tina said, slapping my arm, “where’d you go?”
I shook the memories out of my head and looked over at her with my softest smile. “Sorry, just remembering home.”
“The Hills? You miss it?”
“No.” My smile fell immediately with her lack of knowledge of a past that wasn’t hers. Unfair, I know, but I couldn’t seem to help myself. Why did everyone seem to think I had just magically appeared in their country? Even my accent didn’t seem to tip anyone off.
“What’s up?” Tina could tell I wasn’t happy and asked the question cautiously. I relaxed and put my arm around her shoulders.
“Nothing, my wolf. Just remembering things from a long time ago. Back when I was small on the outside and too big for this world on the inside. Did I ever tell you I used to have a black star on my face?”
“No.” Her face lit up. It’s unusual for me to share details of my life with others, but life alone had softened me a bit. She was a rapt audience of one while I described my former life, my enormous ego, and my aspirations of living in the magical land of France. She didn’t laugh or roll her eyes, she just listened. That’s why I love Tina so much; she just accepts shifters and humans as they are. She never tries to one up or change anyone. She’s a true star.
Soon, we had walked a couple of miles and had come up behind some odd shops and stalls. We walked through them slowly as if we were
looking for something for an educator. At one little hole-in-the-wall spot, Tina stopped and gestured for me to follow her in.
I stepped through the crooked, rotted doorway and was hit with the smell of dust and aging metal. All around me, packed into the walls, hanging from the ceiling and piled in the back were all manner of apparatuses that were all metal of some kind. I had no names for most of the strange gadgets in front of me, but they fascinated me all the same. Tina walked among the madness with her hands in her pockets as if she were strolling to a neighbor’s house. I picked my way through gingerly, certain the mountain of stuff would topple and crush me at any moment.
“Hi there.” We looked up to see a squat human male with a kind of lamp on his head. The light washed out the details of his face as he shone his intense beam of light on us, but when he clicked it off, I could see a round and friendly face. I blinked until my pupils shrank down a bit, but it took a moment before I could see properly.
“Hello.” Tina extended her hand to the short male, but he didn’t accept it.
“Huh. Haven’t seen anyone like you two in here before.” He crossed his arms and leaned back. Tina and I froze; two what? Neither of us spoke, so we just waited to see if he would call in the law enforcement or demand we leave. He didn’t do either.
“Two shifters away from The Hills. How did that happen?” He sat on a tiny stool behind what looked like a random pile of metal but turned out to be a welded sculpture. I reached out to touch it and was surprised at how messy his seams were. My father could have done something truly great with all that material.
“We’re looking for something. Something unique.” I looked up at him, into his beady little eyes, and he started to sweat a little. I moved a tiny step closer. “We’ve lost a valuable piece of jewelry down at the bottom of a well. We need a way to get down there and take some air with us. Can you help?”
“Oh,” he said, hopping down, “you want what’s called scuba gear. Stay here.” He scuttled off into the back and left me to look at Tina with wide, shocked eyes. Why was he helping us? She just shook her head and shrugged. Who knew?
Briar on Bruins' Peak (Bruins' Peak Bears Book 7) Page 30
