by M. D. Grimm
Glenn glared up at him, baring his teeth. “You want to know what a monster looks like? Look in a mirror.”
They stared at each other in silence for several minutes, the air thrumming with tension. Hunter reached into his boot and pulled out a wicked knife. Before Glenn could even move, Hunter was on his knees and pressed the blade against Glenn’s throat. Glenn stilled, his eyes widening. Hunter’s hand was steady and the blade was cold against his skin.
“I should just kill you now,” Hunter whispered, his eyes expressing so much emotion. “I would be welcomed into my family’s arms and all my doubt would be gone.”
Glenn swallowed while his deer bleated and tried to come to the surface, to escape. “Maybe you should,” he whispered. “Maybe you should just fall into line with your bloodthirsty family. Maybe you’re too cowardly for the truth.”
Hunter pressed the blade just a little deeper into Glenn’s rippling skin, and Glenn felt the stickiness of blood dribble down his neck. Great, as if he hadn’t lost enough blood already.
“Why did I think you could teach me anything?”
Glenn stared into Hunter’s eyes and as they knelt there, the night enveloping them, the cold chilling them, Glenn felt some of his anger slide away. He was cold, exhausted, hungry, and had a knife to his throat. His anger wouldn’t help him. He took a moment to really look at Hunter. The red veil over Glenn’s mind lifted slightly, and he remembered that this man was in doubt, that Hunter was confused and unsure. He wanted to know what Glenn knew. What if he cooperated?
Glenn wouldn’t give away shifter secrets but he might learn more about Hunter as they spent more time together. Surely, if Hunter was a danger, then he would reveal himself as such during close association. And there was still the fact that Glenn’s instinct told him Hunter was sincere in his confusion.
“Or,” Glenn said, still speaking softly, “maybe we should both calm down and talk. I will not call your family monsters if you will consider all that I can tell you.”
Hunter’s eyes flickered over Glenn’s face, and after what felt like hours, he removed the knife and tucked it back into his boot. Glenn let out a large breath and slumped on the ground. He watched Hunter watch him, and his eyes became shuttered once more.
“I agree to your terms,” he said calmly. “And I will listen.” He paused. “I don’t want to doubt anymore. I hate being confused.”
Glenn’s mouth twitched. “Tell me about it.”
Chapter Four
Hunter found nuts and some berries for Glenn to eat. When he suggested Glenn should shift so he could eat the things deer could eat, Glenn explained to him that he couldn’t. The stitches would tear and until they came out, he needed to stay in human form.
That was one thing he’d never been told. One thing of many, Hunter was sure.
And despite being told about rippling skin and glowing eyes when a shifter was in high emotion, it was something else to witness it. It was like there was something else beneath the skin, something alive and straining to take control. Which was the truth, more or less. But the glowing eyes? Oddly beautiful, especially with that green.
They both ate in silence, and Hunter’s anger still resonated through him. But it was more than anger. It was fear. He didn’t want to love monsters. He didn’t want to believe that the only family he’d ever had would only want to use him, that they had never loved him. And what about his mother? She had to love him, right? She had always been so kind and….
A memory flashed before his mind, causing him to recoil. His mother had psychic abilities, but they were much different from his. She could go into another person’s mind and implant things, or talk to them inside their own heads. When he’d started to express doubt the first few years with the Knights, he’d feel a strange presence in his mind, like someone else was in there. The presence had been heavy and headache-inducing—a pressure that pushed in on all sides of his head. And his mother always seemed to know what he was thinking, even though she always assured him that she never read his mind.
Hunter looked at Glenn. His mother had lied to him. He knew that now. When he stopped expressing doubt and acted like a good knight, the pressure had left his mind and his mother stopped questioning him every day.
His stomach hurt and Hunter tossed the rest of his food inside his bag. He’d managed to convince himself that she’d done it for his own good, that she’d been concerned for him. It had been her way of helping him come to terms with his new family’s beliefs. But now he wasn’t so sure.
He glanced at Glenn again, enjoying the simple beauty of the shifter. He wished he didn’t, but how could he stop it? The green eyes alone compelled him to look, to feel. They were the color of leaves, rich and expressive, and seemed to have the life of a forest inside them. He knew those eyes saw things he didn’t, things he would probably never see.
“What is it like?” Hunter asked. “To be a deer?”
A warm light entered Glenn’s eyes. He appeared pleased to be asked. The more Hunter stared at Glenn, the more he wondered his age. Glenn couldn’t be any older than himself, could he? Hunter was twenty and that got him to wondering. Did shifters age like humans? There were a few deep lines around Glenn’s eyes, and his hands and body bore scars from previous violent encounters. From predators, perhaps?
“Well,” Glenn said, “I’m still me, but my senses are heightened. I can hear and smell better, but the eyesight isn’t as keen as in human form.”
“Do you take on the persona of a deer? Their temperament?” Hunter asked.
Glenn gave a half shrug with a nod. “Some of it. My intelligence doesn’t change, but I suppose I take on a little of the deer’s paranoia. A deer never relaxes, you see. I’m a prey animal. I must be vigilant against predators. But there’s a certain kind of freedom with it as well.”
Glenn paused. “I can run faster. I’m more agile. I’m lighter and more in tune with the nature around me. I just—feel better. I’m connected to my surroundings, we become one, and I relish the simplicity of a deer’s life. Politics, society, culture—none of it matters anymore. I search for food, I frolic, I enjoy life.” Glenn smiled, his eyes turning dreamy. “I think that’s the best part. I can just enjoy what’s around me. No pressure, no expectations. It’s just—freedom.”
Hunter felt a pang of jealousy and took a large gulp of water from his canteen. He’d never had that sort of freedom—the type that surpasses natural boundaries—the kind that was almost spiritual. To become one with what was around you, to feel no pressure—he’d never know that. Hunter didn’t even know such a thing existed.
“Must be nice,” he said, unable to keep the bitterness from his voice.
Glenn’s smile faded and he scratched his chin, clearing his throat.
“What about you?” Glenn asked.
“What about me?” Hunter snapped.
“Well,” Glenn said softly. “What was it like in an orphanage? I can’t imagine not having a family.”
Hunter glared at Glenn and didn’t detect vicious intent in his eyes. Glenn appeared honestly curious.
“You’re nothing,” Hunter said bluntly. “You have no place in society, and you’re looked down upon, as if it’s your fault that your parents were dead, arrested, or just didn’t want you. You’re a burden on taxpayers, on schools, on local government. No one wants you and no one understands you.”
Glenn’s eyes widened in blatant sympathy. Hunter looked away—he couldn’t bear sympathy or pity. He hated them.
“Do you think predatory shifters take on the personalities of their respective animals?” Hunter asked, changing the subject.
Glenn cleared his throat and took a small sip from the canteen. “I don’t really know. I haven’t known many. There was a wolf shifter I went out with for a few weeks—just to piss off my parents—but we never shifted together. He always refused.”
Hunter appreciated the attempt at humor Glenn offered. Seems the deer shifter went through a rebellious stage. Somehow, tha
t made him easier to connect to. It also lightened Hunter’s mood to know that Glenn was gay or at least bi. He’d been unsure until then, and despite his head telling him he shouldn’t feel any urges for Glenn, his body did anyway.
“Why do you think he refused?” Hunter asked.
Glenn shrugged. “I think it’s because he didn’t want to chance his wolf attacking my deer.”
“So you do take on the persona of your animal.”
Glenn sighed. “It’s not that simple, Hunter. I’m still me, just more instinctual, I guess. It’s a good de-stresser, to become the deer. All my problems seem to fade and I just—am.”
Hunter didn’t understand and decided to move on.
“So, shifting starts at puberty?” he asked.
Glenn nodded.
“The children are human, then? Essentially?”
Glenn nodded again, but slower this time. “Yes, I guess.”
Hunter could tell that Glenn wasn’t giving him the whole truth. “You’re not telling me something.”
Glenn frowned at the accusation. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Yes, you do. What are you not telling me?”
“Look,” Glenn said, sticking his chin out and pulling back his shoulders. “While I may help you make a decision about shifters, I won’t divulge certain secrets. I still don’t completely trust you.”
Hunter had a bitter retort on his tongue, and swallowed it. Glenn was only being cautious. He had to admit he’d do the same if he were in Glenn’s position.
“Fine,” Hunter bit out. “What else can you tell me that won’t break the code of secrecy?”
Glenn let that bit of sarcasm go without comment. “There are many different types of shifters,” he said, pulling the jacket tighter against him and brushing a few stray strands of hair out of his eyes. “We don’t interact much, though. We’re friendly enough when we do meet, but we usually just leave each other alone.”
“Do you know other herds?”
Glenn seemed to hesitate. “Yes.”
Hunter frowned. “Do shifters prey on each other?”
“How do you mean?”
“Well, would a cougar shifter attack and—eat a deer shifter? If they were both in animal form?”
Glenn stared at him, tilting his head slightly. “Maybe. It’s hard to say. I can’t generalize the personalities of shifters.”
He raised an eyebrow and Hunter looked away for a moment, knowing exactly what the eyebrow meant. The Knights were experts at generalizing all shifters as monsters. But he also felt a spurt of anger—shifters seemed to have no problem generalizing all knights.
“But I would have to say most wouldn’t,” Glenn said, his tone the same. “While we are not from the same family, we are the same species… sort of.”
“I’ve always wondered about that. Are shifters a species or are you different species—I mean, you all shift into different animal species so—”
“Let me just explain it to you,” Glenn said, holding up his hands. “Like my dad explained it to me.”
Hunter nodded, eager to learn.
“My dad said that in the Beginning, there were three distinct tribes: the humans, the fae, and the shifters. The fae and the shifters were more varied than humans, but they still saw each other as of the same family. Some of the more powerful fae could shape-shift, but not as easily and not as naturally as shifters.”
Then Glenn stared into Hunter’s eyes intensely, and Hunter got the nagging impression that Glenn saw more than Hunter wanted him to.
“According to legend—”
“You mean myth?”
Glenn snorted. “No, I don’t mean myth. I mean legend and many believe actual history. Just because humans are in the dark, doesn’t mean shifters are.”
Hunter frowned but subsided.
“Anyway, the fae began to mate with humans because they were dying out. No one remembers why they were since that was lost to history.”
Darkness was falling and Hunter fed the small fire he’d built earlier as Glenn continued his story. His voice was deep and even, and Hunter almost missed Glenn’s words because he was so focused on the musical notes of his voice.
“Fae and humans became more closely linked, and their descendants, well, you’re one of them, Hunter.”
Hunter looked up, startled. Glenn smiled slightly. It was the first smile the shifter had ever bestowed upon him, and it lit up his entire face. It didn’t reach his eyes, but Hunter had the strange urge to bring that smile back again.
“I’m telling the truth, Hunter,” Glenn said. “Shifters, however, are more limited. We can only produce shifter children with other shifters. Though there are a couple of myths of children being born from an animal and a shifter. Or even from a human and a shifter. I never believed that.” He paused, and then shook himself, as if shaking off a bad thought. “But my dad always told me it didn’t matter how different we were when we shifted. We were still of the same tribe, the same family. What happens to one, happens to the rest.”
Hunter nodded slowly and sat across from Glenn, the fire between them.
“Shifters are so different from anything I’ve ever known,” Hunter murmured.
“Yes, we are.” Glenn nodded. “In human form, we look just like anyone else. And that makes us the same. Yet, when we shift….” He shrugged. “My dad told me we were of two spirits, while the humans and the fae were of one. That was why they could mate with each other—each was equal to the other. But shifters are always torn between the civilized and the primal. Does any of this make sense?”
Hunter nodded, his mind overloaded. “It does. It’s just—so different from what I’ve been taught.”
“I expect it would be.”
Hunter stared into the flames, conflicted. He felt Glenn’s eyes on him and avoided his gaze.
“I’m sorry you were orphaned,” Glenn said, his tone sincere. “I can’t imagine that. No wonder you gave your loyalty to the Knights. Even despite what they taught you.”
Flames danced in Glenn’s eyes.
“They are my family,” Hunter said firmly. “My mother is a part of them. She loves me.”
Fire seared through him as he noted the obvious doubt in Glenn’s eyes.
“What do you know of it?”
Glenn straightened, his face like stone. “The Knights use people, Hunter. They are led by a deranged and murderous leader who has no morals and no conscience.”
“Arcas is a great man,” Hunter said automatically, half wondering if he still really believed that.
Glenn’s mouth twisted in a sneer. “He’s nothing but a thug and the Knights are his gang.”
Hunter’s stomach clenched painfully and he stood, turned, and stomped away. He didn’t know where he was going or why he didn’t punch Glenn right in the face, but what he did know was that he needed to get away. He needed to be alone. He needed to think.
Chapter Five
Glenn’s deer kicked him and for good reason. He’d agreed not to mention the evilness of the Knights, but how could he not? Hunter needed his help. He was a confused young man who needed to be rescued, and Glenn realized it had to be him. Hunter had touched something inside him. The confusion, the misplaced loyalty—he had to show Hunter just who his family was.
Orphan. What a horrible fate. Glenn always counted himself lucky for his herd and for their acceptance and love. He stared into the fire as his thoughts wandered. They suddenly struck upon an idea that hadn’t presented itself before. If Hunter was sincere in his doubt, then Glenn could convert him. But even if he wasn’t, there was no law that said Glenn couldn’t still convert him—show him the truth.
Glenn scooted closer to the fire and wrapped his arms around his drawn-up knees. His calf throbbed dully, reminding him of Hunter’s gentleness as he’d stitched him up. As well as the firm but gentle hand on his arm that helped guide him back to camp when he’d tried to escape. And Glenn remembered he’d passed out right in front of Hunte
r. If the man were truly trying to trick him and find out the location of his herd, wouldn’t he have more knights with him? Wouldn’t he be torturing Glenn right now for their location?
The more Glenn thought about Hunter tricking him, of being false, the more it simply didn’t make sense. Glenn always trusted his instincts, both as a man and a deer, and they never led him astray. Glenn raised his head and looked in the direction Hunter had left in. He hoped he didn’t get lost. Even his deer had along ago changed his tune, seeing someone in need of help rather than an enemy.
Sometimes the simplest explanation was the right one. Hunter simply didn’t have that sadistic killer vibe. His eyes didn’t have that murderous sheen to them. Even that knife Hunter had held to Glenn’s throat—Hunter had been in control. He’d tried to convince himself to kill Glenn, but the moment Glenn proposed their arrangement, he’d lowered the knife. Hunter’s soul was not that of a murderer.
Glenn looked back at the fire. He needed to convince Hunter that the Knights were the bad guys and that shifters were the good guys. But what would be the best way to do that? The idea that came to his mind was so outrageous, he immediately rejected it. But when it kept persisting, he thought on it further.
What if Glenn showed Hunter his family, to show him what a family should be like and why the Knights were not a family?
Glenn could just imagine his father’s reaction to that. He winced at his father’s voice in his head, shouting and scolding him. It wouldn’t matter that Hunter had doubts and appeared to have a good head on his shoulders, if in denial about who his family really was. But who didn’t have a blind spot when it came to their family? Glenn did.
Maybe if he talked to his father—before he actually met Hunter.
That plan had merit. But he would have to make sure, without a doubt, that Hunter was fully convinced that shifters weren’t the enemy and that the Knights weren’t misinformed but murderous. Glenn would never expose his herd to anyone he didn’t completely trust.
It wasn’t long before Hunter came back. Glenn kept the fire going during his absence, and he let the silence between them continue. Hunter grabbed his bag and threw it down a foot from Glenn and used it as a pillow as he lay down. Glenn enjoyed the rich color of his eyes and dark color of his skin. Hunter was nicely muscled, his arms were elegantly curved, and Glenn suspected the rest of him was the same.
