The Skinwalker's Tale

by Christopher Carrolli

  He sighed through the phone.

  “Very well, then,” Susan said. “Until then, just try and clear your mind and relax. I’ll need you tell me everything from the beginning.”

  “Yeah,” Brett said, with a light laugh. “I think that’s exactly where Uncle Jack wants to start, at the beginning.”

  Susan knew that Brett had been abandoned as a child by his teenage mother who’d left him to be raised by his great-uncle and aunt. She theorized that what Jack was about to reveal to Brett, obviously, had much to do with his mother. But, why would Jack want an entire team of paranormal investigators at his death bed to hear this private and familial revelation? She could understand her presence there; she was also a medical doctor, and she and Jack had become instant friends when they first met nearly two years ago.

  Susan felt a foreboding knot in her stomach that whatever this was, it was going to shock the entire team. In hours, she would realize how accurate she’d been in her assessment.

  “Until later,” she said. “And remember, stay calm.”

  He assured her that he’d be fine and then hung up. Susan sat on her living room sofa, pondering all of the possibilities of Brett’s dilemma that failed to materialize in her head.

  What on Earth could it be?

  Brett wasn’t a psychic like Leah, or Sidney, at least, not to her knowledge. Could Brett have developed some form of psychic ability late in his life? It was possible, but why wouldn’t he have gone to Leah and Sidney immediately for help? Was it a drug problem? No, Brett looked perfectly healthy, and why the need for a paranormal team?

  None of it made any sense. She looked at her watch. She would find out in a little less than five hours. Until then, she had errands to run. She opened the front door again and left.

  Chapter Three

  Brett had made the necessary phone calls this morning; step one of today’s agenda had been completed. He would meet the team in only hours and introduce them to the Brett Taylor they’d never known. He felt a mantle of grief weighted down upon his shoulders. It was almost hard to face them, knowing that he’d kept this secret about himself for so long.

  He stood staring into the bathroom mirror, feeling the need for change at its highest maximum. It was consuming him. The constant urge for change was becoming physical, almost like an addiction. And like a chameleon, he felt the need to shed his same old skin in favor of a new, more refined one. He studied his appearance in the mirror.

  The long, wavy, brown hair he often wore in a ponytail, the beard and mustache that was trimmed into his trademark goatee, and the dark, swarthy stare that hinted at the slightest trace of an ethic or cultural background he couldn’t pinpoint, all of it seemed like a personality he no longer felt. He ran his fingers through his hair, and then cupped his flexing fingers at the base of his chin under his goatee. He just didn’t feel it anymore, and what he was about to do had been a thought that had turned over and over in his mind for a long time now.

  He lathered his face with thick globs of shaving cream and began to run the razor across his chin and above his lip, shedding the goatee. His trademark was gone in a little over five minutes. Soon, he stared at his fresh, naked face in the mirror and noticed that when he smiled, his smile seemed somewhat wider. It would be a sight that would take some getting used to, but he wasn’t finished.

  He unfastened his ponytail and let his long hair fall loosely around the sides of his head. He quickly ran a comb through his wavy hair, feathering it off to the sides for a little more neatness. Instinctively, he pulled the bathroom vanity drawer open and retrieved a pair of scissors. Then, using the comb to neatly sheath through the length of his long hair, he began cutting it, watching the dark brown strands flitter into the sink and fall to the floor by the thousands.

  In minutes, the transformation was complete. His hair was now collar-length, his face a baby’s bare bottom to coincide. The only problem was, he wasn’t a hairstylist, and he laughed at the jagged ends that were cropped and uneven. Not a problem, he would get his hair fixed before the meeting.

  The sound of the front door opening told him that Uncle Jack’s nurse had arrived for duty. He could leave now to get his hair neatened up and be on his way to the university.

  He stared at himself in the mirror and saw a younger version of Brett Taylor. He’d missed the old him, the one he hadn’t seen since the end of high school. He looked younger, no doubt, yet none of it made a difference. The soul of the shifter was the same, and little did he know that by tonight’s end, the smiling persona of the young man in the mirror would shift into the shape of the wolf once again.

  * * * *

  Tahoe had been hoping to catch the 1:00 pm flight to Pittsburgh, but he hadn’t made it to the airport in time. He’d missed the 1:00 flight by twenty minutes. There hadn’t been enough time to make arrangements, pack, and drive to the airport, which he did rarely, except for the last time six months ago. And like last time, his journey would be for an unknown duration. He only hoped that this time, the resolution was as swift.

  At the flight desk, he requested to be on the next departure to Pittsburgh. The next flight was a red-eye, leaving at midnight; that would be far too late. He needed to be there in time for what was about occur, and he felt that moment drawing closer like a threatening stranger. By an odd stroke of luck, the young woman at the flight desk discovered an earlier flight, one that arrived at an airport just outside of Pittsburgh, much closer to Green Valley. It would depart at 4:00 pm.

  He felt the hand of fate at work, uncovering the easier route through his slight misfortune. Considering the two-hour time zone difference, he silently gave thanks for his good fortune and prayed that his nighttime arrival would be an expedient one. Now, after checking his luggage and going through the security procedures, he found himself inside the busy airport with time to kill—two hours to be exact. He made his way to the closest passenger lounge and sat down to relax.

  Before he’d left the house, he brought with him a sheet of paper containing the phone numbers of some of the paranormal team’s members, specifically those of Brett Taylor, Leah Leeds, and Susan Logan. He felt out of place at his age, placing numbers in his cell phone and succumbing to the foolish nonsense of speed dialing. His eyes were too old, and the buttons were too small. The world was lucky he bothered with a cell phone in the first place, but secretly, he relished the thought and the feel of reaching out on a whim to, and from, anywhere in the world.

  He tried to call Brett again for the second time; both times, his calls had gone straight to voicemail. Now, he left an urgent message and hoped the young man would receive it.

  “Brett, my friend, it is Tahoe,” he said, speaking in a rational tone and looking around the lounge in case he wasn’t. “I’m on my way to see you in Pennsylvania. I trust that you will stay indoors this evening. I’ll be arriving soon.”

  The old man pressed the talk button and ended the call. Next, he thought to call Leah Leeds, and then thought better of it. His instinct told him that Brett hadn’t told the rest of the team yet; the revelation would come soon. He didn’t want to stir her suspicions, or worse, engage her third eye into seeing. Susan Logan would be the best person to call. She might at least stay with Brett until he got there.

  He began to dial her number and then stopped. If Susan took it upon herself to save Brett and began smothering him, it might make things worse. It would also become evident that Tahoe had ignited the concern in the first place. It felt too much like betrayal on his part.

  He sighed and closed his eyes as he often did when he tried to see. He saw nothing with his third eye amid the laughing and talkative voices that surrounded him. He opened his eyes again and realized there was nothing else to do...except wait.

  Chapter Four

  Brett sat in his car, examining his sharpened appearance in the rearview mirror. He was pleased with the results after getting his hatchet job trimmed and neatened by a stylist. Now, he turned away from the mirror and stared at t
he stately university and its picturesque campus grounds. It looked like a small city from the parking lot where he sat.

  The team had already arrived; their cars were parked in the same lot where he sat. He checked his phone to see if anyone, especially the team, had called. He stared at its black screen.

  Damn!

  This morning, after calling everyone, he’d turned his phone off for a brief period as he sat by Uncle Jack’s bedside. He’d forgotten to turn it back on. The greeting sound that accompanied the turn-on button whizzed when he released his finger. He began to panic at the thought of possibly missing a call from Uncle Jack’s nurse.

  His heart pounded harder as the alert tone of a voicemail greeted him. He looked at the number and didn’t recognize it. He listened to the message with his heart throbbing in his ears. He was stunned at the voice that spoke.

  “Brett, my friend, it is Tahoe.”

  It was the man he’d sought out to help Leah. It was Tahoe, the man who stared into the eyes of the hawk and looked straight through to his soul, the man who knew and understood his secret from the start. The voicemail was quick and one he didn’t understand. The old mystic had told him to stay indoors.

  A thousand thoughts danced in Brett’s head.

  What did Tahoe mean? Was he asking him to stay indoors and await his arrival? Did he need him to pick him up at the airport? Was he warning him not to leave Uncle Jack, or was it possible that Tahoe didn’t want him to reveal his secret just yet?

  No, that didn’t make any sense. Tahoe had been adamant from the beginning that Brett should tell the team, that he needed their support. Tahoe’s message had been cryptic and strange, but nothing was going to deter him now. He was letting this all out into the open once and for all.

  He closed his eyes and breathed in through his nose and then through his mouth, letting the oxygen fill his lungs, and the air from the AC cool his face and calm his nerves. He wondered how this revelation would change the shifting itself, if at all. He wondered how much of the tension and the chaos would decrease as the secret fell away to the wind.

  The time on his digital watch read 2:55—time to go inside. He turned off the ignition and exited the car, making his way to room 208 of Levin Hall. As he walked, he decided that he wasn’t going to tell the team about Tahoe’s impending arrival, at least, not right away.

  Obviously, Tahoe’s coming back here in a rush had something to do with him. But, Brett had a story to tell first. The team would need to know everything from the beginning in order to understand, but he wasn’t convinced that they would. It was exactly what he himself was trying to do—understand.

  * * * *

  The paranormal team sat in room 208, awaiting Brett’s arrival. He’d called this mysterious meeting to order, and he would be the last to arrive. Dylan and Susan, the team’s leaders, sat at opposite ends of the long conference table, while Sidney and Leah sat across from each other at opposite corners. The thick silence of wonder that passed between the four of them made for an uncomfortable stillness as eyes met and passed from one person to another. Susan broke the excruciating silence.

  “So, does anyone want to venture a guess as to why we’re here? Obviously, this matter is much larger than Jack’s illness. I realize that Brett’s behavior has caught our attention lately, but do any of you have any insight as to the extent of the real situation?”

  It was Sidney who spoke up.

  “Something transpired today that may shed some light, but I want to wait until Brett gets here. I don’t want to elaborate until I see him.”

  “Interesting,” Susan said. “Leah, Dylan, do either of you have any notion as to what this is about? Brett told me on the phone that Jack wants to meet with us and ‘tell us everything from the beginning,’ I believe, was how he put it.”

  Leah and Dylan shook their heads.

  “I wonder what it is that Mr. Taylor has to tell us.”

  “You’re about to find that out.” Brett’s voice had drowned out the hissing of the heavy door as he entered, interrupting their conversation.

  * * * *

  He’d opened the door to room 208, overhearing their words of concern for him and catching the tail end of their discussion. It was Leah who’d let loose the gasp of surprise at his appearance, but unmistakably, all of them stared at him with widened eyes. He watched jaws drop—Sidney’s and Dylan’s—and the look of surprise on Susan’s face turned to a smile.

  “Very handsome, Mr. Taylor,” she said. “I mean, not that you weren’t before.”

  “Indeed,” Leah said. “I like it. It makes you look younger, yet...more mature, distinguished.” Leah’s voice rose in an effort to spike his spirits.

  “You’re no longer hiding your face,” Sidney said, his voice whining fake sorrow as he stood from his seat. “Now who’s going to be weird with me?”

  Sidney placed his hand on Brett’s forehead, attempting to lighten the mood.

  “So, what brought this on?” Dylan asked, motioning to Brett’s hair.

  “I don’t know,” Brett said. “I just felt the need for change.”

  “The need for change is normal, Brett,” Susan said, lifting her head in his direction and speaking over the heads of the others. “We all need change in our lives, otherwise life becomes continual redundancy. Don’t be self-conscious; you look great.”

  “Thanks, Susan,” he said. “I’m glad you’re all here. I need to speak, and the thing is—there isn’t much time. As soon as we’re done here, Uncle Jack has some things to tell me, and he wants you all to be there, as well. I don’t think he has much longer. What I have to say can’t wait. It’s time for me to explain, but there’s so much to tell.”

  They stared at him, speechless, and then Sidney put his hand on his shoulder.

  “I have something to tell you,” Sidney said. “But, I think you should go first.”

  “Yes, take my chair,” Dylan said, offering his seat to Brett at the head of the table so he could face them all when speaking.

  Brett and Dylan exchanged their usual seats. Once Brett settled in, he stared at their expectant faces, wondering where to begin. His mind suddenly went blank.

  “Concentrate, Brett,” Susan said, noticing his delay. “Just focus your mind on what you came here to tell us.”

  He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and began.

  “I know you’ve all noticed a change in me, lately,” he said. “But, what you don’t understand is that it has everything to do with a secret I’ve kept my entire life.”

  Their unblinking eyes hadn’t wavered from him.

  “It has to do with how I’d found Tahoe. And yes, Sid, I know that’s come to your attention.”

  The laughter was light and nervous. Brett continued as it faded.

  “You see, I do possess a unique ability, much like Sidney and Leah. It’s how I’d found Tahoe.”

  This time, the gasps were collective and unexpected. He looked at both Leah and Sidney. Leah was smiling with her eyes, as though she’d somehow always suspected. Sidney’s jaw dropped yet again. Now came the hard part, the part that he feared no one could understand.

  “I’m what the books and legends have referred to as a shape-shifter.”

  There it was. The words cut through studious silence and filled the air. There were no gasps this time, but the astonishment was a mixture of misunderstanding and disbelief. He searched their faces and saw eyebrows arched in wonder and puzzled looks that pled for clarification. Sidney moved his hand under his chin and cast his eyes down, contemplating.

  Somehow, Sidney had been onto something.

  Dylan moved in closer from his chair, his eyes squinting at him in disbelief. Brett understood that an explanation to Dylan seemed much more warranted. He’d known him the longest. They’d put this team together, and hiding this fact from him until now probably made him seem like a stranger. He held his longtime pal’s gaze for a moment and continued...

  “Since my childhood, I’ve been able to �
�shift,’ as it’s called, into the shape or form of something else. In my case, it’s always been an animal. Uncle Jack and Aunt Viv had known for most of my life. Imagine their surprise when I’d showed them.”

  Brett laughed lightly, but he could almost feel the confusion like a heat wave emanating from them. Four pairs of eyes fixated on him with only wonder and anticipation. He suddenly realized that revealing his secret to them was one thing, but there would be more. He would have to demonstrate his strange ability for them as well.

  “I don’t know,” he said, frustrated. “I’m not sure if it’s a curse, or a unique blessing, or just some rare, odd ability that I share with a limited number of others. It’s something that’s always been with me.”

  He paused, watching them as they said nothing. Their courtesy was maddening. He let out a long sigh.

  “It’s why my mother left.”

  The room filled with sneers and moans of sudden heartbreak that sang a collective song of consolation. The force of their stares had been broken as eyes were cast downward, aside, and then back to him. Sidney looked up at him and spoke.

  “So, that explains why you were always able to empathize with me over my parents.”

  “Yeah, I guess so,” he said. “Uncle Jack and Aunt Viv were my great-uncle and aunt. They’d raised my mother, and then me, after she flew the coop. You four are about to become all that I have in this world. So, the story has to come out now.

  “And there’s more,” he continued. “When I’d first revealed myself to Uncle Jack and Aunt Viv, it was as a dog. I later discovered the art of other forms, if you will. It was one of those other forms, or shapes, that I used to find Tahoe.

  “Obviously, we needed to find him in time,” he said. “I’d always thought of the possibility of using my ability as an investigative tool. So, I changed, or shifted, into a hawk. I flew away to Arizona, and I found him.”

  Their stares resumed their routine, and Sidney broke the silence.