by Eden Winters
The judgement ticked down a notch, replace by curiosity. “Who was your aunt?”
“Irene McDaniel from Possum Kingdom.”
The woman’s entire demeanor changed. “Oh, Mr. McDaniel! Mr. Clooney hoped you might stop by. Have a seat and I’ll tell him you’re here.”
Seth retreated a polite distance, certain he’d be capable of hearing the words she hissed into the telephone if he’d had a mind to. He had yet to decide if his improved hearing amounted to a blessing or a curse. On the plus side, he now had ample warning of anyone coming down his driveway; however, the ability to hear every little night noise, amplified, definitely fell in the minus column. Who knew crickets were so damned noisy?
No one else occupied the waiting room, leaving Seth his choice of overstuffed chairs and well-handled magazines. His stomach rumbled, provoking a watch check. Oh yeah, lunchtime. For a brief moment, he considered calling Dustin and planning an impromptu lunch date. No, he’d been the one to ask for space. Space Dustin seemed determined to give him, as the man hadn’t called, or even texted to inquire about Seth’s injures. Both wounds had nearly completely healed, or at least enough for Seth to get a tennis shoe on his foot and walk properly. Did Dustin honestly believe “I don’t think we should see each other for a while” meant “ignore me completely”?
A few moments later, a distinguished-looking gentleman of advanced years stepped into the waiting room.
“Mr. McDaniel?” The man completely enveloped Seth’s hand in his.
Seth rose from the chair he’d sat in for perhaps two minutes, tops. “Mr. Clooney?”
“Please, call me Richard. I understand you wish to speak about your aunt’s will.” The elderly gentleman let out a gravelly chuckle. “About time you got here. Come on back to my office and let’s chat.” Richard’s pronounced Southern drawl brought back memories of Seth’s father and Aunt Irene.
Seth sniffed the air, but not a trace of Possum Kingdom “otherness” clung to either the attorney or his receptionist. What the fuck? Since when did he start sniffing people? He recalled a few noses in the recent past, hovering close to his neck.
Richard chuckled again. “No, Mr. McDaniel, I’m not kin, though I’m fully aware of what you’re doing. You’re hardly the first to include a good sniff with the handshake.”
They entered a spacious office, every available surface covered by paper. A computer sat on the desk, and the documents spread across the keyboard led Seth to believe it didn’t receive much use. Built-in bookcases lined the walls, and for a moment, Seth pictured how such an arrangement would work in the sitting room. You’re selling the place, asswipe, stop dreaming, the part of him longing to return to Chicago informed him.
“You know about…?” Did Richard buy into the lunacy, or did Seth ride the crazy train alone? Or maybe Dustin told you the truth, said the part of Seth resolved to put down roots, renovate the farm, and take baby pictures at the nearest hospital. And sleep with Dustin every night! his libido chimed in. Yeah, that too.
The attorney eased down into the chair behind his desk, which emitted a startled squeak! “Oh yes, I’m fully aware of how your town differs from most. My wife, the late Mrs. Clooney, grew up there, though she somehow managed to dodge the family curse.”
“Some might not think it’s a curse,” Seth replied, honor-bound to defend his heritage.
“Your aunt certainly didn’t believe it to be. Called it a gift, and seemed determined to uphold tradition—single-handedly, if need be. Broke her heart when your grandmother carted you off to Chicago. She’d be tickled pink that you finally came home.”
Must everyone remind Seth of what he’d missed? “I regret not making the trip while she was still alive. I’d been led to believe she didn’t want anything to do with me.”
“Oh, she wanted you, without a doubt. Even approached me for legal advice. Your grandmother was a strong-minded lady and threatened to expose the town if Irene didn’t back down.” Richard narrowed his eyes, peering over the tops of his glasses. “A lot of people made extreme sacrifices to protect the innocent, up to and including falsifying official documents. Irene wouldn’t risk exposing those good-hearted souls to possible legal action. I hope you understand.”
The lengths necessary to keep the true nature of the town and its residents concealed hadn’t occurred to Seth before. Constant duplicity must be a heavy burden on poor Dustin. “I’m starting to,” Seth told the lawyer, still somewhat mystified that he was having this conversation. A small part of him still hoped the whole possum thing would turn out to be a joke. Either Richard was in on the ruse or—it wasn’t a joke. “How can you talk about this so casually? I mean,” Seth said, dropping his voice to a whisper, “we’re talking people turning into possums, aren’t we?”
Seth half expected the lawyer to gasp and shout, “What the hell are you talking about?” Instead, Richard coolly replied with, “Some say it’s the other way around: possums turning into humans, but, yes, you get the gist of it. Now that you have a better understanding of the entire situation, what are you going to do?” He raised one bushy brow.
Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck! It’s real, it’s not a dream! Seth’s last hope of returning to his safe little world—a world devoid of possum shifters—vanished in an instant. “I honestly haven’t figured it out yet. I’m hoping you’ll help me.”
“You’ve been over the papers I’ve sent?” Seth nodded. “I’m sure you’ve noticed how well off your aunt left you.”
“I did.” A lot of zeroes trailed the five on her savings account balance alone. A lot of zeroes. “Do you mind if I ask how she came across so much money?”
One side of Clooney’s mouth hiked up. “The family’s been here a long time, and I’d love to tell you that they made every penny honestly. However, some of it’s moonshine money, dating back to Prohibition, and let me tell you, possums make really good thieves.” He smiled more fully. “But one day a friend insisted your aunt invest her little nest egg and encouraged her to buy stocks that caught her eye. Well, she liked apples, so—”
Seth nearly choked. “What? My aunt, who didn’t even own a computer, bought tech stocks?”
“Made a fortune off them too. And she left behind a good deal of land—land I’m certain developers are foaming at the mouth for.”
Seth shuddered, recalling the men who’d tried to fleece him of the property. “Yes, sir.”
“Tempted?”
“If I get an offer that’s not insulting—yes.”
Clooney let out a weary sigh, gesturing at a chair across from him. “Have a seat.”
Seth sat warily, watching the man who knew far more about his aunt’s legal matters than Seth probably ever would. Given his recent experience with realtors, how far could he trust anyone?
Clooney picked up a figurine from his desk and rolled it around in his hand—the likeness of a possum mother, young clinging to her back. Back in Chicago, Seth would have considered it an odd thing to have; here it seemed right somehow.
“Now, I don’t know how much you know about possums, but they’re solitary creatures, keep to themselves. However, your relatives learned early on the benefit of safety in numbers. Your family bought the land in the 1700s, creating a place to live openly and not have to hide. It’s been a sanctuary ever since, and kindred spirits—”
“You mean other possum shifters?” Seth interjected, wanting to ensure they remained on the same page.
Richard nodded. “Among a few others. They come here where they can live mostly normal lives. Any other virus and they’d probably receive sympathy, but Channing-Frost inspires fear and revulsion. Hundreds were killed before towns like Possum Kingdom were formed. Your predecessors fought hard for their homes, for their people. Don’t throw away their efforts as if they didn’t matter.”
What? “You… you want to me to stay here?”
“What’s your status, if you don’t mind my asking? Do you carry the virus?”
“I do.” Seth suddenly found
the carpet beneath his worn tennis shoes quite fascinating.
“Do you shift?”
“Not yet. I’m told my virus strain was dormant up until now, but I was bitten the other night. Now a doctor tells me there’s a good chance I will.”
Clooney put the paperweight down. He leaned over the desk and lowered his voice. “I’ll let you in on a secret. Your aunt left the majority of her assets to you outright, except most of the acreage, which is why I asked to meet with you face to face. I had difficulty phrasing the documents, but the land goes to the current Jack or Jill, as it provides a safe place for the passel to spend their full moons. Whoever is chosen to assume control must answer any challenges, both for the position and the inheritance.”
“Challenges?” Seth swallowed hard.
“You’re Irene’s next of kin. Providing you’re able to shift from human to animal form and back again while retaining your right mind, the leadership of the passel should pass to you.”
What the fuck? Dustin hadn’t mentioned Seth having to fight for the crown of King of Possum Kingdom. And he hadn’t been forthcoming with warnings about any challenges either. Wait ’til I see him again! “What about the challenges?”
“If other ranking members don’t find the leadership suitable, they can contest for the position, beginning with the acting leader she appointed before she died.”
“What acting leader?” Seth had a sinking feeling he knew the answer already.
“Dustin Livingston, the town doctor. Of course, rather than oppose you openly, any ambitious member of the passel might try to sweet-talk you into co-leadership.”
Oh, yes, Mr. Dustin Livingston, MD. Just wait until the next time I lay eyes on you! Seth staggered out of the mansion-turned-office-complex recalling flowers, chocolates, and casino plans, burdened by more questions and having received far too few answers.
Seth parked the truck in the empty parking lot of the First Baptist Church of Possum Kingdom, staring up at the cross-bearing steeple he recalled from his youth. The ancient structure didn’t appear nearly as bleak and oppressing at it had to his eight-year-old self. He bypassed the building and opened the wrought iron gate leading to the cemetery. Tiny white pebbles crunched under his tennis shoes.
He started near the back, with stones time-blackened and names barely discernible. Through a layer of patina on a towering obelisk, he made out an etched “Braden Calhoun McDaniel.” The elaborate stone listed the date of death as 1792. Pride welled somewhere deep inside Seth. He’d been a part of an illustrious family. A mere two months ago loneliness and isolation had ruled his life. He moved on, the decay of years lessening the closer he came to the church. How many more generations would pass before the cemetery reached its limit? At last he found what he’d been searching for, the stones of Aaron and Brenda Hynes McDaniel. How young they’d been when they’d died, scarcely older than Seth’s current age.
“Hi, Mom, hi, Dad,” he began, emotion choking back the things he’d planned to say if he ever got the chance. He dropped to his knees, idly picking at weeds around the headstone. “Dustin told me you’re not really here, but buried somewhere around the pond. I wanted to come say hello anyway.”
At a loss for appropriate sentiment, he merely said, “Hello,” opening his heart and hoping some inner voice might answer him. Nothing came. Freshly turned earth marked the plot next to his parents’ grave, where a sparkling white granite stone proclaimed: Irene McDaniel, Beloved Leader. Who’d ordered the stone? Dustin? Monica? For a moment, Seth felt kinship with those who’d mourned the lady’s loss when he himself hadn’t been there to do his part.
A panicked cry of “Saxon! Get back here!” broke the silence.
Seth glanced up at the terrifying vision of a horse-sized dog barreling straight for him, trailing a leash and an out-of-breath woman. Fear like he’d never known glued Seth to the spot.
He’d rallied together enough brain cells to process “Great Dane” before he fainted or… something, without fully losing consciousness. Every muscle in his body seized. Seth flopped helplessly to his side. A wet tongue slathered the side of his face.
“I’m sorry,” the woman said, physically hauling the monster away. “I’m keeping him for a friend, and he’s kinda strong.”
Seth opened one eye to discover himself curled on the ground in a fetal position, heart pounding. What the fuck? He liked dogs. Well…. He saw the lolling pink tongue from below and his head went swimmy again. Make that, he used to like dogs.
The lady extended a hand. Ping-ponging his gaze from the dog to her outstretched hand, Seth replied, “I’d like to stay here a bit longer, if you don’t mind.”
“Suit yourself. I really am sorry. I told my friend keeping Saxon in Possum Kingdom wasn’t a good idea.”
The woman strolled away, pulling on the dog’s leash. Seth started to rise, but the massive anvil-with-ears head swiveled back his way and he felt faint again.
“You’ll get used to it,” he heard a deep voice say. “In time, you’ll hardly even flinch.”
Seth rolled over, spying an elderly couple a few feet away, placing flowers on a grave. A spirit of connection settled over him again. Emboldened, he ventured, “Thanks, jack.”
“Don’t mention it, jack,” the man replied.
Still shaken, Seth climbed to his feet, brushing off bits of gravel and dried grass. On the way back to his aunt’s truck, he spotted a playground: swings, a seesaw, and a jungle gym. He aimed his feet toward the parking lot; they carried him toward the jungle gym.
Before he realized his own intent, he found himself hanging upside down from the metal structure by his knees, strangely comfortable.
“Those urges will pass too,” the man he’d just met said, moseying by on the path. “Usually only joeys do that.”
The woman with him smiled and stopped, patting Seth’s arm. “Welcome to the family,” she said before tottering off.
The upside-down position did have its merits. Seth’s back felt better than it had in weeks. He remained hanging bottom side up, enjoying the afternoon sun, until his belly rumbled again, reminding him lunchtime had long since passed. Once more his thoughts went to Dustin, but the moment he recalled the attorney’s words about a possible challenge, and possible pursuit for political gain, the budding fondness grew cold. Was Dustin playing him to get the land?
Seth climbed down from the jungle gym, its bright red-and-yellow paint failing to cheer him. Shuffling along the walkway, he caught a whiff of something delicious. He followed his keen sense of smell to Main Street and found a blackboard in the window of Betty’s Diner across the way that announced “Today’s special: fried chicken.”
The couple from the cemetery, along with a man, woman, and teenaged girl, wandered up, sniffing the breeze. The moment Seth stepped from the curb, a car came around the corner. All six of them froze in place, only reanimating once the car passed. “Sadly, the inborn fear of cars never quite goes away,” said the man he’d encountered in the cemetery.
That night Seth passed through the house, turning off lights and preparing for bed. His eyes fell on the notebook he’d found in the attic, what he now believed must be his mother’s journal and not a made-up story. He fixed himself a cup of cocoa and trotted off to bed to read. After a few pages, he found his name.
I wish I’d been turned before having Seth. Some of the townsfolk call him an outcast. Irene says when he grows older, he’ll show them.
A few pages later he read, I’ve asked Aaron to bite me… and further down the same page, I’m told I turned last night, but I don’t remember. Irene says in time I’ll keep my human mind in animal form. Aaron said I ate earthworms. Earthworms! Yuck!
Page after page chronicled his mother’s adventures. It broke his heart to read, My mother won’t talk to me. She won’t even answer the phone when I call. Circular stains dotted the page. Seth reverently stroked his fingers over the tiny round circles, heart clenched tight. His mother’s tears?
Around midn
ight, he reached the last entry. It’s the full moon tonight. Wish me luck. Although Aaron says it’s a bit soon, I hope to keep my human mind this time.
Seth put the notebook aside before his own tears joined his mother’s on the pages of her journal. But now, after reading her words, he truly, totally, completely believed.
Chapter 16
Dustin picked up his phone again, checking the screen for the millionth time. No message from Seth. He wanted to turn back the clock and handle things differently, in such a way that his evenings ended up with them tucked into bed together. Dustin had been alone for years, but was only now learning the meaning of the word “lonely.”
“We got trouble.” Andy barely paused to knock before storming into the office.
Dustin tore his gaze from his phone. “What? Is someone hurt?”
“Worse. Natalie from the florist shop is dating one of my guys and isn’t good at keeping secrets. It seems Junior cleaned ’em out of long-stemmed red roses. He even paid an ungodly amount to have them delivered to Irene’s.”
“Seth doesn’t strike me as the type to fall for empty gestures.”
“Junior also hooked up satellite out there and shelled out enough cash for a year’s service.”
A sensation like a dousing with cold water poured over Dustin’s head. “He’s being a little blatant, if you ask me.”
Andy crossed his arms over his chest, settling one hip against Dustin’s desk. “Blatant or not, you need to up your game.”
What? “Why? Seth is a grown man and perfectly capable of making up his own mind. Besides, he asked me to give him some breathing room.” Dustin sagged over his computer, exhausted from another evening spent as a possum, keeping watch over Seth. Even more exhausting had been forcing himself not to assume human form and hold Seth while he’d cried the night before.