Summer Shifter Days

by V. Vaughn

  “Don’t worry about it. I shouldn’t have touched it. My fault,” Mal said. He tried to keep his voice normal, but it came out as a low growl.

  “Give it here,” Cassie said. She was standing above him with her left hand out and her wand held delicately in her right hand. “I took advanced healing when I was only nine years old. I scored higher than any witch or wizard in my preparatory school.”

  “Good for you,” Mal said. The world was all sharp edges, bright lights and bludgeoning scents. Cassie’s freshly scrubbed soap smell burned at his nose. “Could you move away? Your scent—that soap—it’s too harsh.”

  A moment passed. Something changed in Cassie, in her scent. If he was a better shifter, he’d be able to read it, to filter out the soap and the delicate floral perfume and to sense her emotions. But that wasn’t him, at least not yet. In a wounded voice she said, “This is perfectly normal soap. It’s not my fault, I mean, I didn’t intentionally . . .”

  Little miss perfect couldn’t take criticism, Mal realized. “Why did you lock your lunch in a silver safe in the first place? Is a sandwich bag too low-class for you?”

  “I’ve been using this since I was a little girl, I’ll have you know. I designed it myself after Erica Brescher snuck into my lunch and cursed it with a frog-face hex in grade four. One can’t be too careful around witches,” she sniffed. “Now let me see about that hand.”

  Mal sighed and held it out for her. “I usually heal in an instant.”

  Cassie held his hand so lightly, he could barely feel her touch. But even so, something thrilled within him as her fingertips stroked around the burned area. How long had it been since he’d been touched by anyone? Since before he was bitten, since before that night walking back from band practice, when a dark shape had launched itself silently out from an alley and sunk its teeth into his leg and pulled him screaming into the darkness.

  “This doesn’t look good. I hadn’t realized how anathema silver was to you people,” Cassie murmured. There was a joy in her eyes, not at his pain, but at discovery. She was seeing something new and it was like lightning running in her blood.

  “You people? Seriously?”

  “Oh hush, you know what I mean. Lycanthropes.”

  “Shifters.”

  “My grandmama used to tell stories of the Loup Garou that lived near her, up in Quebec. She was a wonderful woman. Marched to her own drum and did nothing that she was supposed to. She fought in the shifting wars, they say, though she would never speak of that to me.”

  “Shifting wars?” Mal was lost.

  “The wolves fought the bears who fought the ravens who fought the great cat tribes, and they all fought each other. Our history books gloss over it, but Grandmama was there. She served as a sort of court healer and adviser to the wolf king.”

  “There are bear shifters?” Mal said, trying to keep up.

  Cassie scrunched up her eyebrows, but still didn’t take her eyes off his burn. “Y’know what, let me ask Grandmama what to do about this.”

  “She’s still alive?”

  “No, of course not,” Cassie replied. She reached into her purse and pulled forth a crystal ball the size of a peach. She held it out in her palm. “You will need to help with this. It takes at least two people to speak to the dead. Though it will require no magical knowledge from you, just place your hand lightly on top of the orb. If anything seems weird or dangerous, remove your hand and the ritual will be broken.”

  “We’re going to talk to the dead? Right now? Here, in the quad?” Mal glanced around. Other students had blankets spread out and were reading or lunching or napping. At the far side of the quad from them one couple was kissing and had their hands down each other’s pants. They were in the shadows, but to Mal’s senses they may as well have been making out on top of him.

  “Would you prefer a spooky old house at midnight during a thunderstorm?” Cassie asked archly. She held the crystal ball out and closed her eyes, pronouncing the incantation in precise calm phrases. Mal placed his hand on top the orb, not knowing what to expect, and then it was like he was falling.

  The earth melted away beneath him, grass and soil becoming smoke. He fell with Cassie, plummeting into darkness. The orb between their hands pulsed with a blinding light. Darkness surged around them. Was this what was supposed to happen, or was this the kind of thing he should pull his hand back to prevent? Mal tried to remove his hand from the crystal ball, but he was stuck to it as if it was an orb of glue and not glass.

  Cassie’s face was placid as they fell. Her hair was whipped by the wind, her body was stretched out straight from Mal’s, as if she was lying down on the wind. Her sun dress snapped and popped in the gusts. A half-smile lit her face as she continued the ritual.

  He knew he shouldn’t look down, but looking up was like being at the bottom of an infinitely deep well and looking across at Cassie made him hurt in some inexplicable way. He tried to reach out for something with his wounded hand, but all he could catch was smoke. Below him a mottled red light pulsed slowly.

  The light grew closer and it was almost maybe a mouth. A giant mouth ringed by sharp, sickly yellow teeth. As they fell farther and faster, he recognized the mouth. It was the wolf. The wolf that bit him. The wolf whose offspring lurked inside him. And they were falling into it.

  It wanted Cassie. It wanted more. It wanted to swallow the world to sate its hunger.

  He couldn’t do that. Mal couldn’t let that happen. It couldn’t have her. He barely knew her, but the urge to protect her, to keep her safe, ripped through him like a thunderbolt. With his burned hand he seized her wrist and held it tightly, despite the pain, and he tore his other hand away from the orb.

  And then.

  In a breath.

  They were back on the picnic blanket.

  Cassie looked at him with confusion. “Why did you break the spell? I was having quite a lovely conversation with Grandmama. Really it was the best reception I’ve ever had. It was as if I was sitting with her in her little cabin in the woods. I could smell the pines and taste the sweet tea.”

  “You didn’t see it? You didn’t feel it?”

  “What on earth are you talking about?”

  Mal told her what he’d seen, and at first Cassie was skeptical but as he continued she realized he wasn’t playing a trick on her and her eyes widened with shock.

  “You fell into the ball,” she said. “You saw your greatest fear. Oh, this is so exciting.”

  “Exciting? It almost devoured both of us.”

  “It takes true power to tap into the crystal ball like that.” She clapped her hands with glee. “Do you know what this means?”

  That he had a murderer in his heart that wanted to kill Cassie and eat the world?

  “It means that we’ve been going about this all wrong. I’ve been concentrating our lessons on finding the little spark of magic within, but it’s like we’ve been standing in the middle of a forest fire and trying to light a match. You don’t need to kindle your talents, you just need to control them.” She beamed at him, like she’d found the answer and Mal risked a half-smile back.

  “Yay?” Mal said.

  When he closed his eyes all he could see was the wolf’s teeth snapping at Cassie’s bare legs.

  7

  Cassie was bubbling with excitement. Seeing her grandmama again had been amazing, even if it had been brief. She’d been in her old cabin, during the war. It was barely larger than her family’s dining room, but grandmama made it work. The wooden floors were etched with runes and protection circles, but not in a crazy hermit way. They looked more like incredible murals of red metal laid into the oak beams. The walls were lined with precise tools and also paintings her grandmama had done. One of the paintings hung in her family’s hall now. It was oil paint, rather expressionistic, of a handsome man standing shirtless on a hill, with an axe over his shoulder and a pile of split logs at his feet. Grandmama had written in looping script, “The One Who Got Away” on the bottom.r />
  The contrast between her grandmama and her mother couldn’t have been more stark. How was it possible that one came from the other? Grandmama had been a free spirit. She’d graduated school as a nurse, which was one of three options available to witches at the time, and traded in her starched whites for stalking through the woods alongside a werewolf pack. She couldn’t put her finger on why it meant so much to see grandmama, maybe it was just that someone in her family was actually happy to see her.

  On the way back to The Keep, she sketched out plans in her head about ways to help Malcolm focus his gifts. Everyone said that the Afflicted couldn’t really do magic. That what they did was a crude parody, like a parrot speaking. But what she felt within him—that was real. She should have been working on her own project, but there’d be time for that later in the week. If she couldn’t help Malcolm, it wouldn’t matter, she wouldn’t even have the chance to present her research.

  Campus was especially beautiful with everyone gone, or maybe without the stress of hurrying to class or passing midterms the students just seemed prettier. Cassie wasn’t crazy enough to wander Penrose after dark, but with a warm wind gently blowing and a feeling of possibilities in her blood, she was sorely tempted. The stars sang in the sky above. The scent of night-blooming jasmine and other magical flowers welcomed her. Come out into the night, they beckoned. But her feet knew the way home and only the way home, no matter what her heart wanted.

  A howl ripped through the evening stillness. Something pained and savage and not far away. Was it Malcolm shifting and crying out? Should she go to him? Cassie paused on the steps of The Keep. Once she entered, she’d need to stay put until dawn. There were rules. Old rules. But until she crossed the threshold, she was free. If it was Mal, and he was in pain, who else could help him? Who else did he have? He’d said something about roommates, but if they were anything like Maddie they’d just use their relationship as a way to sabotage him.

  Another howl split the air. This one closer. Could you count the seconds between howls to see how close a werewolf was? Were they like thunder and lightning?

  Something flashed in the windows of The Keep. The wide oak doors flew open. Two suits of armor—some of the enchanted guardians of women’s virtue that patrolled the dorm—were struggling with a shape that Cassie couldn’t quite see. It was person-shaped and shimmering, like a waterfall in the sun. Another boy with some magical camouflage no doubt, trying to sneak in.

  The guardians paused at the doorway and hurled the shimmering shape down the steps where it bounced with a series of ouches and fucks and owws. The shape rolled and landed next to Cassie. The field around the boy was perfect when he was still. Cassie couldn’t see it at all, but when he moved it struggled to keep up with him.

  “Invisibility cloak?” she asked, reaching out a hand to lift the guy up.

  “I didn’t mean anything weird by it. I was just trying to see if it would work. I don’t even know anyone who lives here.” The voice was thin and reedy. “And it’s a magic belt I made. Final project. This was to be my proof that it could work for military applications in the real world.” He took her hand and hefted himself to his feet. He was shorter than her and his hands were damp with sweat.

  Cassie slid her wand from her sock and cast a quick analysis charm. “Your refresh rate is too low. It’ll fool tired people and mundanes, but it wouldn’t stop even the dumbest animal from seeing you.” Glowing runes floated around his head, the results of her charm. It was a spell she herself had invented to help debug her own creations. Only she could see the golden words burning in the air. “You also failed to mask your scent, your breath, your footfalls or your sounds. Your mind is clearly human, too, and a boy’s no less. No wonder the guardians caught you. You did everything wrong.”

  The invisible boy jerked his hand away. “Fucking high-born bitch,” he sneered. “You’re all so goddamn special aren’t you? You think the world revolves around you. You’re born on third base and think you hit a homer, you know what, I appreciate your advice. Because I’m going to use it. I’m going to sneak back in here. And I’m going to give you a surprise one night.”

  Cassie’s fingers burned on her wand. It’d be so easy to lash out. Fifty different offensive spells popped into her head. She could set him on fire. She could summon an eel in his throat. She could cut his fingers off with but a word and a gesture. But no. She was already in trouble enough. If she hurt the vile little troll, her mother would just use it as an excuse to punish her more severely.

  “Whats the matter, girlie? Afraid that a real wizard like me is too much for you?” The invisible boy stepped closer to her.

  Cassie flicked her wand up at his belly and said, “River of earth” in the old tongue. A purple light flashed from the tip of her wand and then vanished.

  The boy laughed. “What was that? Is that the best you can do?” His voice was cruel and mocking, but it just made Cassie feel tired. She’d been around his kind all her life. Mundanes who though born wizards had it easy, or men who though women couldn’t do proper magic, as if having breasts and a uterus got in the way.

  “One of the things about being high-born,” Cassie said. “Is that you spend all of your school years around vindictive little monkeys who need to be taught a lesson in politeness. One learns quickly how to deal with an aggressor in ways that are all but invisible to the headmasters.” She smiled politely and nodded as a rumble sounded from the invisible boy’s belly.

  He groaned and doubled over.

  “Unfortunately for you,” Cassie said. “At this time of night all the public restrooms are closed. You’ll have to hurry back to your dorm now, unless you’d prefer to make a mess right here.”

  “Fuck you,” the boy said, but his voice was a sickly whisper.

  “Hurry along, little troll. Ta ta.”

  The invisible shape hunched over and ran as best as it could. There was no way he’d find a bathroom in time before her bowel disruption spell took effect.

  She felt a momentary glee at the victory, but then realized that the jerkface had ruined her pleasant evening stroll. Sighing, Cassie entered The Keep, nodding at the guardians as the doors slammed shut behind her.

  They met again the next day. Cassie was all smiles and excitement, even though she’d been up half the night preparing lessons for Mal. And Mal looked even worse than the day before. Dark bags hung under his eyes. He was even more unshaven than before and his hair stuck up at odd angles. He was pale and stared off into space whenever Cassie wasn’t directly speaking to him.

  After she gave a brief lecture about control charms, which he clearly barely heard, Cassie snapped. “What is going on with you? Don’t you want to succeed? We made real ground yesterday and today we could again, but only if you commit to this and actually try.” Her voice was her mother’s voice, no matter how much she wished it wasn’t.

  Mal glared at her. “What’s the point? I was up all night, again, helping my roommates with their project. And the things they can do—I’ll never be that good. Never. I’m so far behind I may as well just quit and slink back home where they can just chain me to a wall every night.” As he spoke, his eyes blazed with fire and his fingers lengthened into claws. He was closer to the beast than before.

  Cassie regarded him. He was raging fire and she was ice. She stayed calm and cool and when he was done complaining and feeling sorry for himself, she asked again. “What’s going on?”

  He flopped back onto the picnic blanket and stared at the sky. His shirt rode up a little, revealing a nicely muscled belly with a scattering of hair leading like a trail downwards. “Do you like music?” he asked.

  “Music?” Cassie blinked. “I suppose so. Doesn’t everyone?”

  “I mean real music. Not like the chamber music and string sections and bells and pan flutes that the kids here seem to be into.”

  “That is real music,” Cassie sniffed. “There’s a very long tradition of classical music in the wizarding world. I myself took nine y
ears of piano and four of cello.”

  Mal lifted his head and glanced at her. “For real? I didn’t know you could play.”

  Cassie looked down at her fingernails. Something about the way Mal was looking at her made her uncomfortably warm. “I don’t really. Not for years. I haven’t had time since I came to Penrose.”

  “I was in a band,” Mal said, still watching her with his intense stare. “Before I got bitten and became, y’know, Afflicted, I was in a band. We weren’t amazing, but I loved it. I lived for it. Just the feeling of being on stage, letting the music move through me, it was unlike anything else. The lights, the crowd, the wall of sound. The smell of the sweaty dancing bodies and spilled beer. The way it felt when the whole band gets into it at the same time. It was better than sex.”

  Cassie blushed again, hard. Why did he have this effect on her? Was it some shifter thing?

  “You should play again,” she offered. “Many wizards channel their magic through song.”

  Mal growled and sank his clawed fingers into the earth. “Do you think I haven’t tried?” His voice was rougher, savage. He took a deep breath and continued. “One of my roomies, this guy Ash, he’s in the bardic school. He’s all about channeling magic through song. He can inspire people, really inspire them, like give them the energy to pull an all nighter or to do damn near anything. He can shatter stone with his voice or weave illusions with song. And when I see him, I just get so angry.”

  “Why?” Cassie asked. Mal was talking to her, really talking to her, and she worried that if she said too much he’d fold back in on himself and never speak again.

  “Because when I try and play a guitar I snap the neck. My fingers shred the strings. The sounds are so loud and shrill that my stupid shifter ears don’t even register them as music most of the time. When that wolf bit me, he didn’t just steal my humanity, he stole my dreams.”

  Cassie let his words hang in the air. Hearing him open up made her giddy with excitement. She could see a path forward, a real path, for the first time, but she wanted to approach it just right so as not to scare the wolf off.