by Zoe Chant
I hung my head and muttered, “All of them.”
“Really!” For the first time, Mataji looked surprised. “And nothing happened?”
We all shook our heads.
“Ever bitten anyone who wasn’t a family member?”
“No.” I said bitterly, “This was practically the first time I’ve even met anyone who wasn’t!”
Mataji got up and put her hands on my shoulders. She said, “Never bite anyone else who isn’t a shifter already. It could kill them.”
“What?!”
“When a shifter bites a non-shifter, usually they make them into a shifter,” Mataji explained. “But some people are… allergic, essentially. When they’re bitten, they don’t shift. They die. I’m sure it’s genetic, but we have no idea what gene is responsible, so there’s no way to tell which will happen. Never bite anyone who isn’t a shifter. Do you understand?”
Scared, I muttered, “Yes.”
“Does your tiger understand?” Mataji asked sternly.
Do you? I asked.
My tiger didn’t usually do what I told her, but she growled, Yes. I will not kill anything but prey. Now let’s leave this boring old woman, and run and hunt in the jungle!
“What’s she say?” Mataji asked. “Word for word.”
I repeated it. Word for word, staring right at her.
But Mataji didn’t get angry. She looked relieved instead, then chuckled. “She’s a lively one. I can see why you’re having so much trouble with her. Now, as to why your family didn’t become shifters after you bit them, there’s a third thing that can happen when non-shifters are bitten.”
“What?”
“Nothing,” she said simply. “It’s quite rare. Much less likely than them dying. But again, it’s a genetic trait. They’re resistant to shifting. I think this explains your problem, Destiny. You inherited enough shifter genes to overpower the ones for resistance to shifting, but enough resistant genes to overpower the ones that would normally allow you to control the shift. I’m sure it’s more complicated than that, but I suspect that’s the essence of the problem.”
“But you can’t change her genes,” Dad said.
“No, but many genetic diseases can be treated with medication.” Once again, she looked into my eyes. “Are you willing to experiment on yourself?”
“Nothing dangerous,” Mom said quickly.
“She’s just a child!” Dad exclaimed.
“I’ll be very careful,” Mataji assured them. Then she turned back to me. “But I will be creating a completely new medication, and testing it on you. That is dangerous. It will probably also be long and tedious and frustrating. But this is your life. Your body. Your…” She smiled slightly. “Your destiny. You must be the one to choose.”
I heard my parents protesting, but I wasn’t listening to them. Instead, I remembered my first airplane flight, and how I’d been pushed back into the seat as the plane accelerated along the runway. And then the lift-off. I’d looked down, and I could see so much. The entire world was spread out below me.
If I stayed the way I was, I’d never see more of it than my parents’ home and a few shifter towns like this one. The price of safety was never taking flight.
I stood up, turned my back on my parents, and looked into Mataji’s eyes like she’d looked into mine. “I want to try.”
Her first attempts didn’t do anything but make me tired, or give me headaches or stomach aches. Then she started working with a rare herb called sherneend, which means “tiger sleep.” It tastes disgusting to herbivores, but carnivores nibble on it sometimes. If they eat a little bit, it calms them down. If they eat a lot, they fall asleep.
At first all it did was put me to sleep. But Mataji kept tinkering with the dosage, until she got one that didn’t affect me, but put my tiger to sleep. At first I was thrilled, because it stopped me from shifting when I didn’t want to. But then I realized that I couldn’t shift at all, even if I did want to. More than that, I felt like something was missing. I felt… hollow. Like the part of me that made me me was gone.
So Mataji adjusted the dosage again, until she got one that just calmed my tiger down. She was still there, but she wasn’t so willful. I could get her to do what I wanted instead of what she wanted. Finally, finally, I could control the shift.
The whole town threw a party, Mataji’s shifter scientist friends emailed her to tell her what a genius she was, and I got to wear my bangles and swing. It was especially fun because there were so many shifter kids in the town, and we had a whole jungle outside the town we could run around in and climb trees and hunt.
All of a sudden, I had a future. I could have friends. I could have a job. I could do anything.
As long as I took my pill every morning.
I don’t control my tiger the way every other shifter in the world controls theirs, because it’s natural to them. Because they’re stronger than it is. It’s not natural to me, and she’s stronger than me. The only way I can keep control of her is by taking pills.
I tried to tell myself it didn’t matter. Whatever works is whatever works, right? But in my heart, I always knew there was something wrong with me, and some day it would catch up to me. And it has.
Just when you need me the most, I’m a danger to you. Because I’m weak. A liability. A freak…
Chapter 11
Ethan
Ethan had never seen Destiny cry before. He’d seen her upset and worried, like when her teammate Shane had been shot, but even then she’d stayed strong for his sake. She’d always been so cheerful and tough, it had seemed like she’d never had a moment of weakness or self-doubt in her life.
But then she’d told him her story. He hadn’t interrupted, letting her get it all out, but he’d watched as she struggled at times just to get the words out. And now tears flowed down her cheeks as she sat there calling herself names. Weak. A liability. A freak…
“Whoa, whoa!” Ethan sat straight up, grabbing for her hand. “Destiny, you’re none of those things. Don’t ever call yourself any of that crap again.”
She jerked her hand out of his grip. “But it’s true. Everyone else can control their shift. I’m the only shifter in the world who can’t do it unless I swallow a pill!”
“So what? That doesn’t say anything bad about you. I had a friend in high school who had diabetes. Would you say he was weak and flawed and a freak because he had to give himself an insulin shot every day?”
“That’s different.”
“How?” Ethan demanded. “How is it different?”
“It’s a shifter thing. You can’t understand.”
Ethan had developed a deep hatred of those words. They were the exact ones she’d used when she’d rejected him, all those years ago. It was true that he wasn’t a shifter, and couldn’t know what it was like to be one. All the same, it didn’t seem like any other shifters, other than that one snob aunt, had looked down on Destiny for being the way she was. Instead, they’d done their best to help her.
He pictured her at eleven, and the image made him smile.
“What?” she asked suspiciously.
“You must’ve been an awfully cute little girl. You had an entire town bending over backward to help you.”
“They were just nice.”
He flicked her arm. “You were adorable. Admit it. Chubby cheeks? Little pigtails? Pastel plastic barrettes shaped like animals?”
She sniffled, swiped her hand across her eyes, and gave him a wavering smile. “Right on all counts. Four pigtails tied top and bottom with dangly pastel plastic balls. When I see photos of me, I want to pinch my cheeks.”
“It was more than that, though, wasn’t it? Sure, you were a cute kid. And it sounds like the shifter community likes to help each other out, and that one town was extra-nice, and Mataji obviously enjoyed a challenge. But you also had Al Flores offer you flying lessons when you were eleven. You had shifters all around the world emailing each other to try to help you.”
“Lik
e I said. They were nice.”
“I’m sure they were. But I think they also saw something special in you. I think they saw a girl who was brave beyond her years, who’d spent her entire life locked up but jumped straight into an adventure the instant she got a chance, who’d been knocked down a thousand times and got up a thousand and one.”
He laid his hand over hers. This time she didn’t pull it away. She listened, her beautiful eyes huge and glistening, as if she wanted to believe.
Ethan went on, “Mataji told you straight-up that you were in for something incredibly difficult and dangerous, and it was your choice whether you wanted to risk it. You chose to take that risk. And you were only eleven! Yeah, you are different from most people. You’re braver. You’re tougher. You’re more determined. Destiny, the only person who’s ever thought you were weak or flawed was you. Everyone else saw a girl who was fighting so hard, it inspired them to go above and beyond to give her a chance.”
She lowered her head. Her short braids swung forward, shadowing her face. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe that’s how other people saw me. But even if I was brave and determined and all that, it wasn’t good enough. And it’s still not good enough.”
Destiny raised her head, and he saw something else in her eyes that he’d never seen before. It was fear. “Ethan, I’m losing control. I can feel it. I’m having to fight my tiger again, and it’s harder every time. Sooner or later, I’m going to lose. It’s angry. It’s an animal that wants to hunt and kill. I can’t risk it getting out around you. I think you should stay here, and I’ll go to the base.”
“What? No!”
“If I’m going to lose control, better there than here. My tiger could do a hell of a lot of damage to Apex before they take her down.”
Ethan broke in, horrified. “That’s crazy. I won’t let you.”
She spoke louder, ignoring him. “And if I lose control on the way, I won’t hurt anything but deer.”
“Destiny. Stop it. I’m not afraid. I’ve seen your tiger before.”
“That was my calmed-down tiger! Not the one inside me now. That one’s a predator. A beast.”
“I’m still not afraid. I believe what you’re saying, but I don’t think you would ever hurt me.”
“It’s not me!” Destiny shouted.
“Fine!” Ethan yelled back. “But you’re not going anywhere alone! We go together, or we stay here till the cows come home, or you stay here and I go. Actually, why don’t I do that? You sit here, and I’ll come collect you on my way back.”
She stared at him, wide-eyed and alarmed. “Ethan, no! We’re really pushing it even trying this mission with two people. With just one, it’d be a suicide mission.”
“Exactly.” He patted her shoulder. “So we go together. Trust me, mudpuppy. You and your tiger will be fine.”
Instead of looking encouraged, she sagged with defeat. “You’ve never had an animal inside you. You can’t understand.”
Ethan wasn’t sure which he wanted to do more, take her in his arms and comfort her, or shake her until she promised never to say that again. Since obviously he couldn’t do either, he said, “I understand that you’re the strongest, bravest person I know.”
She gave him an incredulous stare. “You’re the one who’s strong and brave and, and perfect! I’m just good at putting up a front.”
“Whoa. Have you really been thinking I’m perfect?”
With a shrug and a toss of her braids, she said, “Apart from being a total weirdo and secretly a Zork-playing nerd… Yeah.”
Ethan opened his mouth, then closed it. He could prove otherwise. Or he could tell her some other story about himself, one that did show some flaw in him that he didn’t really care but that wouldn’t be quite so… revealing. Then he was ashamed of himself for even considering it. She had bared her soul to him. He couldn’t hold back with her, even if it did make her think less of him.
“Destiny, let me tell you about my parents. I guess they must’ve loved each other once. But I never saw it. None of us could do anything right as far as my father was concerned. If we set the table without being asked, he’d tell us the spoons were crooked. Then Mom would say they were fine, only she wasn’t talking to us—she was glaring at Dad. She was contradicting him, not supporting us. Then in private she’d tell us how terrible Dad was and how much she regretted marrying him. This was when we were, like, eight. It was totally inappropriate.”
Ethan stopped suddenly. He’d never told anyone about any of this—at least, not in more detail than “My parents divorced when I was ten. We’re not really close.” He’d always imagined that if he ever did, they’d give him a stare like he was way too old to still be bothered by stuff that happened when he was eight and he needed to man up. He knew Destiny wouldn’t do that, but he worried that she’d pity him. He hated pity.
She didn’t. The expression in her warm regard was one he could only interpret as sympathy, and the desire to ease his pain, even a pain years by gone. She turned her hand over so she could squeeze his. “That’s terrible, Ethan.”
“Ellie and I used to hope they’d get divorced,” he went on. “Then they did. The first thing they both decided to do was move to opposite ends of the country. We ended up in custody court. To this day, I don’t think either of them really wanted us, they just wanted to mess with each other. Ellie and I begged the judge to keep us together, but that asshole gave me to Dad and Ellie to Mom. Dad took me and moved to the East Coast.”
“What was it like just being with him?”
“Same, only I was all by myself. I remember the day I learned to ride a bike—which a neighbor taught me, by the way. No congratulations. Just a critique of how much I was wobbling. I was a star baseball player in high school, and all he ever talked about were the games we lost. It made me feel like nothing was worth bothering with. I started cutting school, skipping games, flunking classes. I finally got busted for hanging around a liquor store trying to get people with IDs to buy me beer. In retrospect I think I was trying to get Dad’s attention. I did, but it was the same kind of attention I got for everything else: telling me how much I sucked.”
Destiny sighed. “Man, Ethan. I know Ellie was the one you really needed, but I wish I’d been there. We could’ve hung out and done stupid nerd stuff together. I know it wouldn’t have helped with your dad, but at least you could’ve had someone to talk to.”
He’d never before imagined knowing her as a teenager. The idea made his heart ache. His life would’ve been so different. “I wish so too. Anyway, big surprise, he didn’t approve of me joining the Marines. Said I should’ve gone to college instead.”
“I bet if you’d gone to college, he’d have said you should’ve joined the Marines.” She sounded angry—on his behalf. That sure wasn’t something he was used to.
“Yeah. I finally had to admit that to myself. It didn’t matter what I did. Nothing would ever be good enough. Anyway, Destiny, I didn’t tell you all this to make you feel bad for me. You thought I was perfect—that’s how perfect I’m not.”
“That’s your parents. That’s not you. What your family’s like doesn’t say anything about you.”
“Doesn’t it? Because that’s not what I’ve heard. Everyone says you grow up to become your parents. Or if you want to know what someone’s really like, pay attention to how he talks about his parents. Well, my mom is cold and bitter, and my dad’s a fucking asshole. No matter what Ellie or I has ever done or said, neither of them has ever changed. I haven’t seen either of them in something like eight years. Everyone says you have to forgive your parents and find some way to reconcile with them. So what does it say about me that I hope I never see them again?”
His voice rose to a near-shout. He shut up, hoping she wouldn’t feel like he was yelling at her.
But there was no hurt in her steady gaze. Nor was there disappointment or disgust. “It says you’re honest. It says you stand up for yourself. You didn’t get the family you deserved, and that’s
a shame. But you know what would be even more of a shame? If you let ‘everyone’ override what you know is the right thing for you.”
Ethan had heard something like that before, from Ellie. But she was his sister; she felt the same mixture of guilt and grief and anger that he did. When Destiny said it, he had to believe it, at least a little bit.
“And you are nothing like your father,” she went on. Now it was her voice that rose in anger. “He tears people down; you build them up. He was cold and unloving and I bet he never told a joke in his life—”
“You got that right. Never laughed, either.”
“And you’re warm and funny and—” She broke off suddenly, as if she had decided against saying something, then said, “Is Ellie anything like either of your parents?”
“Not remotely.” Ethan sighed. “It’s not that I’m afraid I’m going to turn into them. It’s that I’m afraid other people will think that if they know about my family. Especially if they came from a good one like yours.”
Destiny’s eyes shone as if she was holding back tears. She swallowed, but her voice came out thick with emotion anyway as she said, “You were right, earlier. I don’t think I ever really appreciated how much people loved me, and how important that was. My family. Friends. Even strangers. You should’ve had that too, Ethan. I wish—”
Once again, she broke off.
“Yeah,” he said. “Me too.”
It was strange how safe he felt admitting his own vulnerability to her now. He loved her so much, he should have wanted to impress her with his strength. But some barrier between them had gone down, and he knew she wouldn’t think less of him for his anger and his pain and his longing for a love he’d never had.
They were silent for a while. Then Ethan, restless, got out of bed and went to look out the window.
“Hey!” Destiny exclaimed. “You’re better! That stuff worked!”
Startled, Ethan stopped and assessed himself. He’d been so absorbed in her story and then their conversation that he hadn’t registered when it had happened, but he did feel much better. The pain was gone, he felt neither too hot nor too cold, and he could breathe easily. “Hey, yeah. Good job with the herbs. I can’t believe you remembered all that from when you were eleven.”
