by Nina Berry
London had a wolf’s superior nose. She got up on her hind legs, front paws on a low shelf for balance, and pressed her nose against the second highest shelf.
Behind us, the hinges on the door to the kitchen groaned. I whipped my head around to see November in rat form walking on her hind feet, pushing the door open with her small pink paws. She let out a piping shriek at the sight of us.
I advanced toward her, tail lashing. She scampered sideways along the wall, letting go of the door.
It never slammed shut, because Siku burst through it. He skidded to a stop, blotting out the doorway with his enormous silhouette, and took the scene in: me standing over November, with London on her hind legs, nose at the books.
He snarled and lunged toward London. I got in the way and he barreled into me. I fell on my side, back legs trying to get a purchase against the furry bulk now pressing down on me. But he got his arms around me in a suffocating hug, his teeth near my throat. I thrashed, but he squeezed me until the air left my lungs, his grip too strong for me to wiggle out.
My own teeth were near his jugular, and my back feet could have raked his belly, possibly disemboweling him, but this was an exercise, not war. I tried to squirm again, hoping I wouldn’t have to surrender. But Siku only squeezed harder. Pain lanced through my ribs, and red spots danced before my eyes. I couldn’t inhale, couldn’t get free. Somewhere in the distance I heard London whining.
My thoughts grew fuzzy. If only I could get smaller somehow, maybe shift to human form, shift somehow into something, anything that could evade his grasp . . .
Blackness flashed through me. Not the pillow-black of unconsciousness but the rocket-black of shifting. The pain vanished as I slipped through Siku’s hold, rolling to the floor, scrabbling away from him, leaping from the floor to the top of a chair and farther up to sit on the bookshelf London had been nosing.
Wait, what? I was sitting on my haunches, front paws before me, whiskers quilling outward.
I fit on the bookshelf. I looked up to see the next shelf looming over my head. The books beside me, red and brown leather-bound, were around the height of my head.
London barked. I looked down at her and she whined, backing away. Siku let loose an ear-splitting roar. November chittered and ran back and forth along the baseboards, as if she didn’t know where to go.
I looked down at my paws, which were still white, black, and orange, but now in uneven splotches, not stripes. Turning my head, I could see my back and tail, no longer banded like a tiger, but haphazardly swirled, like a tortoise shell. I had shifted into another form, all right. I was a house cat.
Siku shook his huge head as London continued to back quietly away from me, her ears tight against her skull, her tail between her legs. I meowed, not understanding. How could I be more terrifying as a small cat than as a tiger?
November pushed at the door to the back cave and disappeared behind it. London was almost out the other door when it swung open and Morfael walked in. He took in the scene, white brows lowering.
“There is nothing to fear,” he said, his voice reverberating with command. “Siku, Laurentia, return to your cabins and shift.”
London bolted out of the room. Siku bared his teeth at me, then lumbered through the door.
Morfael approached me, his staff tapping the floor. He looked enormously tall now that I was so much smaller, a gaunt giant in black.
“You,” he said, “are precocious.”
I wanted to ask what he meant by that, but could only make a trilling noise.
The living room door slammed opened to admit Caleb, a bit breathless from running. “What happened? I saw London bolt out of here, then Siku . . .” He trailed off as he caught sight of me. “What is that cat—Dez?”
I meowed.
Morfael said, “It is she.”
Caleb’s eyes widened and he stepped toward me. “But this is a second form, completely different from the first. It’s unheard of!”
“Perhaps not completely different,” said Morfael. “And perhaps not entirely unheard of.”
“Well, sure, she’s still a cat, but . . .” Smiling, he reached a hand out to me.
His hand looked huge, bigger than my head, and his eyes were enormous pools of darkness. He loomed over me, but the scent from him was the same, the smile the same one I’d seen on his face when he first saw me as a tiger. I stretched my neck out and rubbed my cheek against his fingers.
He scratched my chin, and a deep thrumming began in the depths of my body. I was purring. “Your fur is much softer in this form. I mean—” He cast a glance at Morfael, who remained expressionless. “The differences are astonishing.”
“What the hell is wrong with her?” November said from the doorway, back in human form and clad in the sweats Raynard kept in the locker room.
“Nothing’s wrong with her,” said Caleb. “It’s incredible.”
“She’s a freak,” she said, crossing the room as far away from me as she could manage. “Shifters only have one form, one! I’m a rat, and that’s it. I can’t just decide to be a mouse or a rabbit or some other type of rodent. London’s a wolf, not a dog or a fox. Dez’s got two forms!”
“At least,” said Morfael.
“Oh. My. God.” November jerked open the living room door and stomped off.
Caleb raised his eyebrows at Morfael. “You didn’t exactly reassure her.”
“They need to learn the world is larger than they know, and not all of it is the enemy. Desdemona won them over before, and will again.” Morfael turned to go.
“But why can Dez do this and nobody else?” Caleb asked, voicing my own thought. “Is it something to do with how the shadow was suppressed in her for so long? She’s not like any other shifter I’ve seen.”
Morfael did not turn around. “You are asking the right questions,” he said, and stepped into the kitchen.
“Damn, he’s annoying,” said Caleb, turning back to me. “What is it? Do you want to get down?”
I stood up, back arched, tail up, and looked down at the ground, then up at him, then at the ground again.
“Okay, I’m going to pick you up and put you down. Is that all right?”
I meowed and nodded once.
“Here we go.” He reached over and gently took me under the front legs and behind the back legs, then placed me on the floor. “I’ll open the door.”
I headed toward the door to the back cave, and he pulled it open for me. As I walked through, something buzzed. I looked up to see him touching his coat pocket, where he kept his phone.
He smiled down at me, but the corners of his eyes didn’t crinkle. “The other kids are going to have a hard time with this. Shifters are terrified of anything new. Kind of a funny trait in people who change their shape. Don’t let them rattle you.”
I was tempted to shift into my human form right there and then, naked or not. Then I could push him to tell me who was calling him. But the thought was too shameful. I’d have time to question him later.
I meowed, and he unexpectedly reached down and stroked me from head to tail. His hand felt strong and warm. I started purring again. “You’re beautiful, Dez.”
He shut the door quietly behind me.
I had to shift back to human form in front of the girls’ locker room because I couldn’t reach the doorknob. But no one was in the back cave to see me naked. Worried about the fear I’d seen in London and November, and the rage in Siku, I rushed into the locker room to throw on some sweats before running all the way back to the cabin.
London huddled in the back corner, hugging herself. November sat on the kitchen counter, sucking on a lollipop.
I said, “I don’t know what happened . . .”
“Get out,” said London, not meeting my eyes.
My heart dropped. “What? But I . . .”
“Get out, get out, get out!” Her voice rose to a shriek; then she swallowed hard and squeezed her shoulders even tighter.
“Yeah, you better go,” sai
d November, her voice ice-cold. “London’s gonna have a hissy if she has to sleep in the same room as you tonight.”
Caleb had said they’d have trouble with this new side of me, but kicking me out of the cabin? “I’m still the same person I’ve always been.”
“The Moon knows what you’ll turn into next,” November said. I’d never seen her eyes so flat, so dead.
“The Moon doesn’t know shit,” I said. “And neither do I. This is all new to me.”
“Maybe Morfael will come down from the mountain and explain it,” she said. “But until then, you better go.”
My throat ached, but I stuffed down the desire to cry or plead with her. “Okay, I’ll spend the night at Morfael’s. We can talk in the morning.” I stuffed a few things into my suitcase. “But I swear to you I don’t know what happened.”
They said nothing as I rolled the suitcase to the door. My hands were shaking. Just an hour ago we’d all been laughing together. Why kind of people just turned on you like that?
Caleb. Where was Caleb? He’d accepted me from the start, and had kept on no matter what strange thing I did. He even seemed to like that I was different. I searched for him in the kitchen, the library, and the living room in Morfael’s house.
Then I heard his voice, outside. I dumped my suitcase and raced for the front door, even as I heard him say, “I can be there in half an hour.”
I stopped in front of the closed door as his footsteps moved past outside. “Please wait for me. Don’t leave,” he said.
My heart dropped to my shoes. He had to be on the phone, talking to whomever it was. I pressed my ear to the door.
“I miss you so much.” His voice was getting fainter as he moved away, into the woods. Toward the BMW. “I promise I’ll be there. This can work.”
I opened the misshapen door and peeked outside in time to see the edge of his black coat disappearing into the trees. He was carrying the duffle bag I’d seen under his bed. No one else was in sight.
This was it. I’d never see him again, or find out who he was talking to. He was running off. With some girl.
I closed the door behind me and followed him.
All those lessons in moving silently paid off as I crept through the underbrush, keeping him just at the edge of my sight. My thoughts raced ahead of me. If he was going to the Beemer to drive away, I’d never be able to follow. No way to sneak into the trunk or cling like a superhero to the underside of the car.
The motorcycle. Siku had moved it outside so he could work on implementing his plan to make it run silently. As long as he’d left it intact, I could follow Caleb.
I heard the Beemer chirp as its lights flashed. I sped up and circled to the left, keeping low. The motorcycle sat on the other side of the car. I needed to get it revved up before Caleb got too far away.
As the Beemer backed up and began to turn around, I rushed through the check list to start the motorcycle. Older bikes were cranky and picky about how you handled them. And machines always seemed to have a special hatred for me.
Fuel shutoff to “on” position, then pull out the choke and turn the ignition. No problem.
The headlight flared, startling me. I fumbled to turn it off. My night vision would serve me well, and I didn’t want Caleb spotting me.
I waited in the dark for a moment to see if Caleb had noticed it. His back was to me now, the BMW trundling along slowly down the dirt road, nearly a hundred yards away.
So set the kill switch, squeeze the clutch lever, and kick the gear shift lever, fingers and toes crossed. Balancing the bike, I kicked the side stand up and pressed the start button with my right thumb. The engine fired with a whispering put-put. Not sure if I should thank the Moon or some motorcycle shadow in Othersphere, I released the clutch and let it warm up for a few seconds. I didn’t have the couple of minutes it needed. I reached down and released the choke, praying it wouldn’t stall.
The idle slowed but still sputtered. I looked up and saw no evidence of the BMW, though my ears caught the sound of branches scraping along its sides. No time to wait for the idle to even out. I shifted and gently twisted the throttle.
I applied too much, and the bike took off. I nearly flew off the back of it. But a tight hold on the handgrips saved me, and I lifted my feet as if the ground were on fire. Wobbling wildly, I picked up speed and found where to rest my feet. I breathed deep, and the bike settled into a rut in the road.
The wind lifted my hair off my shoulders, cooling the nervous sweat down my back. The jolts from the bumps in the road made my kidneys ache, but I had to catch up. Thank goodness Caleb needed headlights to see and I didn’t.
Within a few minutes I spotted the red glow of his taillights and slowed down so I didn’t get too close. He turned right at the paved road and headed uphill. I followed.
As our speed increased, the wind whipped my hair relentlessly into my eyes and mouth. My kingdom for a ponytail holder. But only a few minutes later the frosty November mountain air chilled me down to the marrow. A worn hoodie and sweatpants didn’t offer much protection. My kingdom would be better spent on a heavy coat and gloves.
Teeth clenched to stop the chattering, I endured the chill for another thirty minutes as we wound our way up and then down into a narrow valley. At least it hadn’t snowed yet this year. The dense black of the soldier pines lining the road gave way to softer, more civilian oak and grass. Ahead a neon sign flashed, and I saw the warm glow of a lamp in a window. We were approaching something less than a town but more than a crossroads.
The Beemer pulled into a small parking lot next to a diner with a bright blue sign that spelled out RAE’S. Inside, the fluorescent lights cast a greenish glow over cracked red Naugahyde booths and the graying heads of men in Windbreakers seated at the bar.
I pulled over to the side of the road and kept the motor running. Caleb got out of the Beemer and headed for the diner. He’d asked whomever it was on the phone to wait for him. This must be the spot.
I threw down the kickstand and let the motor continue to idle. Beyond the diner the road was lonely, its short sidewalks empty. I didn’t need to stay long, and I doubted I’d be able to sneak in and overhear a conversation without being spotted. I just wanted to see the person Caleb was meeting; then I could leave him behind forever.
Unclasping my numb fingers from the handgrips, I dismounted, stiff as a grandma. Caleb hadn’t looked my way. I could see him scanning the interior of the diner as he walked past the lit windows.
I crossed the street to get closer, hands stuffed in my hoodie’s pockets to try to warm them. I stopped at the corner of the diner, gazing along the front of the building at Caleb.
He didn’t look back. He straightened as if seeing something important and ran a few steps. Inside, someone wearing white was running too.
Fear cut through me. White, the color of the Tribunal. I fought the urge to run. The person in white threw open the diner’s glass door and moved right up to Caleb. He wrapped his arms around her and held her close, his dark head next to her golden blond one. Caleb had come to meet Amaris.
CHAPTER 20
A high, gasping inhale came out of me. I thought the ride had chilled me, but only now was I cold, cold as a corpse.
Caleb turned at the sound, too fast for me to duck out of sight. His eyes got huge as we stared at each other. “Dez . . .” he began.
Amaris saw me too. Her arched eyebrows drew together over her perfect little nose. “What’s she doing here?”
Tears pooled in my eyes, threatening to spill. Caleb edged toward me, as if he wanted to come closer but was afraid. Fury battled with piercing agony inside me.
“Traitor,” I said.
“No!” he said, reaching a hand toward me. “Amaris won’t tell them anything. Neither will I. We’re running away . . .”
“Together.” I choked it out. The tears broke free and ran down my cheeks.
“Yes.”
I couldn’t hear more. I ran.
He came a
fter me, but I was faster. The weeks of training, the aftereffects of a recent shift, all gave me speed and strength he couldn’t equal. Good thing, because I didn’t want to look at him one second longer. I reached the sputtering bike and threw my leg over the seat.
“Wait, Dez!” His voice was rough, desperate. “You can’t . . .”
I kicked up the side stand and twisted the throttle. The motorcycle took off. I zoomed past him, then nearly toppled over as I circled back the way I’d come. But I managed to lean into the curve right and kept the wheels on the road. In the side mirror I saw Caleb stop running, then a bend in the street obscured him from sight.
The wind whipped the tears off my cheeks. My heart was gone, replaced by nothingness. Caleb had left me, just as he’d said he would. But how could it be with Amaris? She, her brother, and her father were his enemies, sworn to destroy him, me, the kids at the school, and all the otherkin on the planet. How could he have kissed me the way he did and want her?
I barely saw the road before me. My brain bounced between vivid memories of the touch of his hand, his lips, the dark desire in his gaze on me, and how tightly he had embraced Amaris. My chest ached, as if he’d embedded a knife in my heart and it lay there still.
More than anything, I wanted my mother. I wanted to be home and safe, and never to have heard of Caleb or shifters or Othersphere. But if Caleb was a traitor, or if the Tribunal caught him and made him talk . . . I’ve got to tell them. The instant the Tribunal learned about the school, they would bring all their might to destroy it.
I was so distracted that I nearly missed the tiny dirt road that led to the school. But I did a shaky one-eighty, dodging a white van as it passed by, and jolted my way back down the path. I left the motorcycle where the BMW had been and started to stumble back to the girls’ cabin before remembering I wasn’t welcome there anymore. Morfael. I could tell him and he’d make sure everyone got away safely.
Someone had piled sheets, a pillow, and a blanket on the couch in Morfael’s living room. A fire crackled behind the grate. At least Morfael wasn’t kicking me out.
