Balam stopped to ask, “Have you given Ana your name? You are mates?”
Chance frowned in confusion, but Ana thought she understood what he meant. “We aren’t married, if that’s what you mean.”
Chance’s almond skin flushed into a deep crimson as he said under his breath, “We just graduated high school.”
Balam shrugged. “I have had many wives. I was first married at sixteen years. It was never the same after my true mate. No one compared. If you do not share a name, you do not share a room. All your energy must be focused on shifting now. No distractions.”
Ana caught the trace of a smile on Balam’s lips.
“Ana, this is your room. Come, Chance.”
She wandered into her room, and dropped her travel pack on the bed. Chance’s sad eyes relayed just how disappointed he was.
Balam led him away and presumably to his own room to settle in. Ana tucked her clothing into a small wooden dresser and flopped onto the bed once she was done. The rain had stopped and the birds were singing a chorus after their midday shower. The crisp fragrance of wet leaves and bark filled the room. Her favorite smell—fresh rain.
As she lay on the soft bed, her eyelids grew heavy. The last couple of days had been a whirlwind. Now that her body was at rest, exhaustion overcame her and she fell straight to sleep.
Chance dropped his backpack to the floor and stopped in the washroom to splash water on his face. He peered in Ana’s room and found her resting so he darted downstairs to the main living space. Balam was busy placing wood in a hearth and Chance settled onto the couch to watch his great-grandfather. No longer covered only by a cloth, Balam wore a pair of thin cotton pants with a colorful red sash wrapped around his waist. After Chance reflected on Niyol’s memories, he decided Balam couldn’t have aged even ten years but his grandfather’s memories had to be over eighty years old. If he had to guess, he would say Balam was in his sixties.
He was pretty confident that shifters weren’t immortal. They could die. But he had never met an older shapeshifter before. Excluding Niyol. Although he believed his grandfather hadn’t used his powers since he was a young man.
“Are you deciding if you can trust me?” Balam asked with his back turned to him as a blossom of light grew into a crackling fire.
“Can you ever really trust another shifter?” Chance asked. “You said something about there not being many of us left. Is that true?”
“Yes. We take time to mature. Sixteen years to discover if a child has the birthright. When the seed takes root and the energy is awakened, it is a dangerous time. You have already met one who craves power, who has the sickness. Fresh shifters are easy to pluck, for they have little defense. The young are susceptible to misusing their gifts without guidance and can be tempted down a path, like your cousin.”
The warmth from the fire radiated to the couch. A red glow illuminated Balam’s face as he stoked the wood and cast shadows along the creases of his mouth. The last couple of months had been such a drain, but sitting here with Balam, Chance felt rejuvenated.
“Markus seemed insane. He said he’d killed his own grandfather. What happened? What would make him do that?” The memories of Niyol witnessing his brother murdering their father were unnerving. Were they just bad seeds or was it a shapeshifter sickness?
Balam seemed to understand the question. “Could this happen to you? That is what you want to know, yes? The true question is, what was Markus like before he sought his elder’s power? I do not know what your grandfather taught you, so I will teach you everything as though you are an infant.”
Chance hated that. Infant. It made him sound like a baby—inexperienced, naïve. Balam pulled out a narrow stick from the fire and held it up for Chance to see. Its tip was aglow.
“When the power is awakened in a shifter, it is small like this flame. You must work very hard for a very long time to stretch your capacity to hold more power.” He gestured to the belly of the hearth and its fiery contents. “When you absorb another’s life force, it expands your own. It doesn’t help that we are drawn to each other like moths to a flame. Youngsters are weak and most importantly, impulsive. If you have a strong character, you may not be tempted. At my age I have no use for more power and risking my mind is not worth it.”
Balam reached into the fire and withdrew another stick engulfed in flame. “When you saved your Ana and died, you drained all of your power. And when Niyol saved you, he gave you all that he was. You did not lose your knowledge, but would have gained his as well. You feel him inside—his memories?”
Chance nodded.
“If you had been at full power when he gave himself to you—” Balam brought the sticks together and their flames grew as one “—your power would have grown. But you were empty and Niyol had very little power. Now you must work to refill your reservoir. It will be easier than growing from infancy again.”
Well, that was a little bit encouraging.
Balam used the sticks to stoke the fire, and then thrust them back in, causing the pyre to spark and hiss. “You and your grandfather gave yourselves in a healing connection. This is very different from when you kill another shifter because you funneled all your energy. An impression of the soul is connected to your energy. This is why you have your grandfather’s memories and know all the animals he ever shifted into. Normally, when a shifter dies or is killed, his power can no longer be contained and bursts out. If it is absorbed by another shifter, it is fragmented and incomplete. You must consider also whom you are absorbing. Was he kind or a murderer? Did he take on other’s powers? Too many personalities. It is a sickness of the soul.”
Chance shivered. He flashed to his sex education class in high school. The whole room had snickered when Mr. Daly informed them that when you have sex with someone, you’re really having sex with everyone your partner’s been with. Although this was altogether different, it was the same idea.
It wasn’t all that bad having part of his grandfather inside of him. The memories had died down. They only really emerged when he called on Niyol for help and support. He considered what would be going on in Markus’s head. He had killed his grandfather, who Chance knew had already killed before. Markus had a huge amount of power but was unstable. The memories and voices in his head would be murderous and nerve-rattling. The thought raised a serious question.
“What do you do if another shifter wants to kill you? Markus—I don’t think he’s dead. If he comes after me, what do I do? Is there another way to stop him outside of killing him?”
“Most shifters who grow and mature don’t wish to kill others because they understand the cost—but sometimes it is unavoidable. We do not tend to stay around each other for very long, so the draw does not become tempting. Crazed shifters are dangerous. Distance yourself from them and avoid getting into a fight. If you can evade them, it is best. The only safe way to kill a sick shifter is from a distance so you don’t absorb their power but that is not always possible.”
Chance leaned forward and scratched his head. Without looking at Balam, he asked, “So how long can we be around each other before either of us gets tempted?”
“It feels good being around another shifter—rejuvenating. You will never become enough of a temptation to me. And you—I can protect myself from you if you ever become weak and cannot resist yourself.” Balam smiled widely and his teeth gleamed white in the light of the fire. He seemed to relish the thought just a little too much for Chance’s comfort.
“I don’t understand. How could Markus have killed his grandfather? He must have been far more powerful.”
“There are ways to weaken shifters. Shifters with the sickness live off their survival instincts. A sick shifter’s strength and weakness is his fragile mental state.”
“Can you identify other shifters? Can I?”
“At your age the best you can do is listen to your instincts. When you get to my age, you can feel the power inside of someone.”
Chance was about to ask another question when Balam s
topped him. “I can see you do not know much about who you are. Niyol kept many things from you. It is a blessing you are alive. I will answer more questions later. Tomorrow we will rise with the sun and I will see what you do know. Now let us wake your Ana and feed your tired, empty bodies.”
Chapter 21
Ana’s body lay tangled in her sheets. Her sleep shirt twisted up, exposing her smooth skin and cotton underwear. Chance swallowed hard and tried to calm his desire.
He stepped forward in silence, not wanting to rouse her just yet. Long brown hair swept across her back and hung limply off the edge of the bed. The steady rise and fall of her chest mesmerized him. He fought the temptation to climb into bed with her. Balam was right—she was a distraction. A lovely one.
Chance knelt beside her and breathed in her familiar scent. He brushed her hair off her neck and placed a gentle kiss below her ear. She stirred and her eyes fluttered open. A soft groan escaped her lips as she stretched and rolled toward him. Her hands moved down to adjust the sheets and she covered herself.
“Good morning, beautiful,” he said.
“Morning.”
The clouds cleared overnight and the sun had just begun to illuminate the sky. Birds trilled loudly and their morning praise echoed in the bedroom. Ana’s green eyes crinkled into a frown.
“Hmmm.”
“What?” Chance asked with concern. Overall, he thought everything had gone pretty well yesterday.
“Aw, it’s not a big deal. I just haven’t gotten to stargaze yet in Mexico. It was too cloudy last night.”
“Oh, I’m sure you’ll get your chance. Come to think of it, I bet Balam knows plenty of constellations. Weren’t the Mayans astronomers?”
The thought seemed to brighten Ana’s mood considerably and she sat up, her expression lighter.
“Good point. Well, if we want to get going for your first lesson with Balam, I need to get dressed.”
Chance stood and waited. When it became clear he wasn’t going anywhere, Ana laughed and pushed him away. “Go on. I won’t be long.”
He stopped teasing and leaned over to kiss her lips. Then he reluctantly left the room and headed downstairs. As soon as he saw Balam, the anxiety and excitement he felt upon waking returned.
A pile of bananas sat at the center of the dining table and a ceramic pitcher filled with dark steaming liquid. Something that looked like pancakes were stacked on a plate. Balam waved to the food and said, “Feed yourself. Is your Ana coming?”
“Yes, she’s getting dressed.”
He leaned in to smell the drink as he reached for a cup. Because it was so dark, he assumed it was coffee but after a sniff, he realized it was hot chocolate. He poured himself a cup and took a sip. A touch of spice bit at the tip of his tongue as he tried to identify the layered flavors. He was familiar with cinnamon, but the others were beyond him. Satisfied, he took another mouthful as he reached for a pancake.
“Did you make these yourself?”
Balam adjusted in his seat and said with a sour expression, “I do not take pleasure in cooking and cleaning. I miss my wives’ meals. But I chose to be alone and not to bury another. It is the price for my solitude. I am Mayan. We made the calendar, invented the concept of zero and created an advanced writing system. I can learn how to cook.”
“How many wives did you have?”
“Ten. Over time. I enjoy the quiet now but I would give anything to be with my true mate again—your great-grandmother and my last wife. I would have given myself for her like you did for your Ana but it was not possible.” Balam shook his head and took a sip from his cup.
“Can you tell me—how old are you?”
“I saw the fall of the Yucatán to the Spanish conquistadors. I no longer count my years, but is somewhere between five and six hundred.”
Chance coughed on his corn pancake, sending particles of his breakfast onto the table just as Ana emerged.
“Morning. You okay, Chance?” She leaned over the pitcher and said with a sigh, “Mmm, hot chocolate. It’s my new favorite. Wish my grandma made it this way growing up. Instead, it was straight out of the packet.”
Ana poured herself a cup and tilted her head at Chance. He cleared his throat and swallowed what food remained in his mouth.
“Balam was just telling me how many wives he had. And you won’t believe his age.”
“Do I look good?” Balam asked. He rose, struck out his chest and held his head to the side. He looked like one of the hieroglyphs at the ruins, regal and proud.
Ana squinted and said, “Sixty?”
“Add a zero,” Chance said as he put the last bite of pancake in his mouth.
Her jaw dropped. “Really?! That’s amazing. Is that old for a shapeshifter? I mean, have you ever met anyone older than you?”
“The older shifters tend to stay hidden. If they do not want to be found, you will not find them. I am old but there are older shifters.”
Chance’s great-grandfather had actually seen the Spaniards invade and conquer the Yucatán. He had lived through an entirely different era. If Chance chose to live an extended life, he could see humanity change as Balam had. However, there was a problem with that scenario. Ana would age and die long before him. His grandfather’s choice to turn his back on his powers made more sense now.
Ana sat down at the table and nibbled on a banana while she blew on her hot chocolate. Her brow furrowed and she remained quiet, clearly lost in thought. Chance reached across the table, grasped her hand in his and met her eyes.
“Ana and Chance, eat your fill and let us go. I wish to see what my great-grandson can do. If we look at the clouds, our work will not get done.”
Ana finished eating and gulped down her hot chocolate. Balam turned to face the outdoor balcony and said, “If we were all shifters we could fly but it looks like we must walk out as we walked in.”
Balam handed a square of folded fabric to Chance. “For you. Go put it on.”
He ran upstairs, changed out of his clothing and struggled to wrap the cloth around his waist so it wouldn’t fall off. When he was satisfied it was secure, he met Balam and Ana at the entry.
Single file, they descended the staircase into the dark cave and finally surfaced in the jungle. Balam guided them through the leafy wilderness. Animals stirred all around them and Chance’s senses were overwhelmed.
They entered a clearing after a short walk. Palm trees lined the area and the uneven ground was punctuated with roots and rocks.
Balam stopped and said, “This is a good place. I want to see you shift into the largest animal you can.”
Ana gave Chance’s arm a squeeze and went to stand beside Balam. Chance took a shaky breath. He hadn’t taken the thunderbird form since showing it to Ana just after Niyol’s death. His power reservoir had been too depleted since then to re-try it or much else. The first time out with his great-grandfather he wanted to impress him but he wasn’t confident. Each time he’d called on his energy recently, he’d had an underwhelming response.
Chance slipped off his sandals and as his grandfather had taught him, he lowered himself to the ground cross-legged and began to calm his thoughts. His energy was sluggish and did not crackle with excitement as it used to.
Minutes slipped by as he wrestled with his powers. With his eyes closed he envisioned the mapping of the thunderbird, its enormous wingspan and powerful talons, to no avail. It was like pushing a boulder up hill. He just couldn’t take its form.
Filled with disappointment, he instead chose to focus on the grizzly bear. The black nose and massive furry body had quickly become one of his favorite embodiments. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d taken its shape.
Again, his energy resisted the powerful animal’s form. The tingle of his skin lasted but a moment before it released like a wave breaking against a beach. A branch snapped above, which reminded him he wasn’t alone. He was glad he couldn’t see his audience. You’re not going to impress Balam with your ability to sit still.
A spot low on his back still tingled and he arched his spine in an effort to relieve the itch. He turned to see Ana, who wore a bright smile of encouragement and Balam, whose arms were folded across his chest. His serious, watchful expression made Chance wary. He wasn’t impressed, that much was clear. Chance wondered what would impress him.
“Now I want to see your smallest animal.”
The smallest? What did that matter? After he’d become a squirrel in his first shift, he’d never looked back. But if Balam wanted him to take on the smallest animal, he’d do just that.
He walked a tight circle, sat and wrapped his tail snugly around his feet. With his eyes closed, he collected his energy again. His skin contracted as he shrank in size. Trying to stuff his power into such a small form took effort. When he’d shifted down to smaller animals in the past, he had always gone down in size very slowly. This was different. It felt as though he’d put on a shirt that was three sizes too small. His lungs were instantly tight and he began to wheeze. A funny squeaky, chatter-y sound filled the air and he realized the sound was coming from him.
After a few minutes, he recovered and he scurried to Balam’s feet. His tail twitched involuntarily and flopped over his head.
Ana sat and hugged her knees. He could tell she was suppressing a grin.
“Very good. Now I want you to switch between these two forms until you cannot any longer,” Balam said.
He turned and attempted to walk with as much dignity as he could. Positioned on the piece of fabric he had wrapped around his waist earlier, he cleared his mind. The agitation rolled away and he set to work. The process exhausted him. Maybe it was supposed to. But he didn’t give up.
Chance began to tire after the first couple of shifts, at which point it began to take a long while to generate enough strength to phase again. He paced around the clearing until his energy allowed him to change one last time into the cougar and he padded over to his great-grandfather with his head down.
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