The Secrets Within (Shape Shifter Secrets Book 1)

by Noah Harris

  “Besides,” added Michael, “the enemy is already onto him. If they know about him before he knows about them, he could be in great danger. We’re going to have to tell him.”

  “How should I befriend him first?” Isda queried. “Enroll in a class of his, make friends with his best friend, recruit him for a volunteer cause?” Over the years, these and other methods had been used to ease new members into the pack.

  “Unfortunately, we can’t,” Michael concluded, furrowing his brow over his brooding eyes. “I didn’t foresee the enemy being on his trail this early. We’ll have to dispense with the usual song and dance tactics.”

  “So, he’ll have to do it the hard way,” Gideon added, “like me.” Michael’s look toward him softened slightly.

  “It was a necessity, Gideon, but I do wish we could have eased you in. As in this situation with Nick, I hope you can see there are times when safety must prevail over pleasantries,” Michael affirmed.

  “Sure,” Gideon conceded. “I get it, but I’m telling you, he’s not ready.”

  “He’ll have to be,” Michael stated flatly.

  “So, tonight, then?” Isda asked. Michael nodded, sighing deeply, aware of the weight that learning of the pack, much less the war, would bring to Nick’s life. He hoped the boy turned out to be as remarkable and resilient as he suspected. In his experience, however, people of great potential often had difficulty living up to it when they had been lied to as it bred a sort of central distrust on a very basic level.

  Perhaps somewhere deep inside Nick sensed this already, but he could never really place why he had difficulty trusting others. He thought, maybe since he learned he was a shifter, that it was just some basic sense of isolation or difference because he had only been around his family and humans.

  Having finished his classes for the day, Nick completed his assigned reading, on a blanket in the square, near the student union. He shut his device off with a flick of the power button and rolled over onto his back, enjoying the warm sun baking his legs as his face and torso remained in the shade of the tree above. He opened his eyes and stared at the array of branches diverging in all directions, with leaves of light green, dark green or variegated and hanging moss-branches growing all over it, but sharing a central, common trunk of strength.

  Out of nowhere, a young woman with fiery red hair and near-translucent skin suddenly plopped herself down right next to him.

  “Hi!” she beamed, with an overly sunny disposition.

  “Hi,” he responded cautiously, searching his memory for any recollection of this young woman in his classes.

  “I’m Fiona,” she relayed. Her mannerisms were almost childlike as she twisted the grass, on the ground before her, between her fingers, as she spoke. “I saw you speaking to Abby and Jared at the Frosh welcome the other day. I’m Jared’s cousin, so I just thought I’d say hi, so… hi!”

  “Oh, okay. I’m Nick.”

  “How do you know Abby and Jared?” she inquired, but she seemed to already know the answer as she appeared to listen to the response patiently, more out of politeness than interest in the answer.

  “I went to high school with Abby and her twin brother, Philip.”

  “Oh, yeah, where was that?” Fiona asked.

  “Tallahassee,” Nick replied, and then fishing, he responded. “Where did you and Jared grow up?” After a moment, he added, “I don’t really know him that well.” He cracked his knuckles casually, which seemed to break Fiona’s sunny disposition for a moment, but then she recovered.

  “Oh. Well, I grew up in New York, actually. Just got tired of the cold.” She watched him squirm for a few moments at the incomplete answer.

  “And Jared?” Nick continued, since he had gone this far.

  “Jared grew up all over. His dad works for a global company, so he’s lived all over the world. The last thing his dad worked on was a big deal in Atlanta, so he ended up going to school here in Florida.”

  She didn’t even let him respond before adding in an instant, “You’re interested in him, aren’t you?”

  Nick was taken aback by the question, both at the bluntness of it and at the realization that he was that transparent. He recovered nicely though, leaning back, not yet wanting to reveal the truth to this girl he barely knew and, for no logical reason he could really pinpoint, didn’t really trust.

  “What is this, 2nd grade?” he replied. She smiled—a confirmation if ever there was one. With that she rose, nearly as abruptly as she had arrived.

  “See ya,” and she skipped away.

  Nick shrugged and closed his eyes again, finishing his short study break with an appreciation of the warm breeze rustling his ebony locks. Suddenly, the piercing pain of an approaching sharp headache, interceded, and Nick glanced at his watch which read 4:50 p.m., right on cue. His body was telling him it was time for his five o’clock dose of Nydor. As he moved to rise, his arm caught the sunlight and for a fraction of a second it seemed to be transparent, as if the cells were shifting on their own without his effort or control. Staring at his arm for another few minutes, it looked normal and the strange episode did not occur again. Since the splitting pain was moving from the back of his head up to the top, then oozing down the sides like an egg cracked atop his skull, he hurried home for his Nydor.

  Back in his dorm room, he had just popped the top on the Nydor bottle when there was a knock at the door. He felt the hair rise on the back of his neck again, just as he had that morning in the quad. Pill bottle in hand, he shuffled across the tile floor, in his socks, to answer it. Isda stood before him, her striking Asian features punctuated by a pixie haircut, shorts, t-shirt and sandals. She was doing her best to look like a non-threatening human. Isda eyed the pill bottle.

  “That stuff is bad for you,” she instructed. Nick assumed she thought it was something else, of course.

  “It’s not what you think,” he responded. She stared at him knowingly, but said nothing. He looked back at her awkwardly; she had knocked on his door after all. “Do I know you?” Nick asked.

  “Not really, but you need to come with me,” Isda answered. Nick popped his pill and Isda winced slightly. As he did every day after his pill, Nick just wanted to lie down for a while. He rubbed the back of his neck as if it were stiff.

  “Look, I’m tired. I’m not really feeling like signing up for anything right now,” Nick began to close the door, but Isda stopped it with the toe of her sandal.

  “I bet you’re tired, if you’re taking that crap to suppress your powers. As I said, it’s really not good for you.” She stared at him intently, making sure he clearly understood her meaning. He seemed to, but to be sure, Isda caused her own arm to momentarily become translucent just as his had a few minutes ago. “I’m like you, Nick, and we need to speak with you.”

  He was taken aback and his peaceful, routine day had suddenly turned extraordinary. His heart raced, and his head still pounded, swimming with the prospect of meeting another shifter.

  “We?” he searched.

  “My friends, who are like us,” she confirmed, never actually saying the words. ”Listen, why don’t you lay down until that stuff stabilizes in your system? Meet us at 7:30 this evening at Saturn & Stars Coffee.” She stepped away, and Nick looked at her, unsure of whether this had really happened. He wanted to run after her, but tiredness and a splitting headache won out, so he set his alarm for seven and flopped onto his bed. Unsure if he could even begin to fall asleep on the heels of such news, the biology of his advanced system prevailed and he was out within a few minutes.

  At seven, Nick awoke, feeling better. He jumped up in anticipation of meeting the short-haired girl, briefly wondering if he’d dreamed the encounter. He hadn’t even asked her name, he realized. Soon he drove along Fairbanks, growing impatient and feeling as if the traffic lights were secretly programmed against him, since they each turned red as he grew near. He streamed Pandora and tapped the steering wheel with the beat of the music to distract himself. His cell
phone rang in the seat beside him and, glancing down, he saw ‘Abby’ on the screen. Since he was just minutes from his destination, he let the call go to voicemail. Finally pulling up in front of Saturn and Stars, Nick squeezed into the last remaining parking spot in the small lot, hoping the monster truck next to him would not ding up the door of his small car.

  Nick entered the coffee shop and noticed it carried an atmosphere more like that of a small pub. Adorned with odd antiques, books and twinkle lights, the live music trio in the corner demonstrated some talent with a modern indie flair. Since the front door fed straight into the line, Nick ordered a coffee before scanning the room for the short-haired girl. Awaiting his order, he looked around the room but didn’t see her. After receiving his coffee, Nick dropped the change in the tip bowl and walked stridently toward the back room, where there were only a few small tables. Amid all the vibrant, gallery-style art on the walls, Nick saw her sitting at a table with two other guys—one with long blonde hair who leaned far back in his chair with cavalier diffidence, and a second, with hair so short it was hard to tell it was anything but some shade of brown. The second man stared at him with a dark-eyed intensity that was almost unnerving. It was like he wanted to both challenge and welcome him all at once. Reaching the table, Nick stood before them briefly before sitting down. He stared at them for another moment, taking in their presence. These are shifters, he thought, noticing the tingling nerves within his body, a sensation he would later come to realize signaled the presence of other shifters.

  “You can feel us coming now, yes?” Michael asked. Nick slowly nodded and took a chair, still wary of them without knowing why. “Good,” Michael added, perceiving the true strength of Nick’s power now that he was closer to him.

  “What are your names?” Nick asked.

  “Manners, of course. I apologize, Nick. This isn’t usually how we do this,” Michael responded, then paused slightly, looking at Isda and Gideon. “This is Isda,” she smiled, with a wry grin and a wink. Michael then gestured to Gideon, who sat his chair back up, so it was flat on the floor, as a gesture of welcome. “This is Gideon,” Michael continued, and then Nick’s gaze shifted toward him, waiting. “And I… I am Michael.”

  “Nice to meet you all. Obviously, you already know my name,” Nick measured his words carefully. “I didn’t know there were any others like me here.”

  “That’s because your powers have been weak until recently. Once you turned eighteen, they started to grow. You’ll sense more and more every day from here on out,” Michael advised.

  “Plus, that stuff you take, the Nydor, dulls all your senses and your powers. It gives you the headaches too. I’m surprised you can function at all, much less go to classes and make grades. Most of us couldn’t do that!” Isda exclaimed.

  “I bet I could,” Gideon prickled, assessing Nick silently as the conversation progressed.

  “All the same,” Michael moved on, overlooking Gideon’s posturing. ”While with most of us, it might keep things in check—which is probably what your parents were thinking—your power is too strong to be controlled and will soon overtake the ability of the Nydor. You won’t have any idea of what to expect. We can help guide you and teach you how to use them.” For a moment Nick thought that sounded agreeable, but there was one more piece of information he hadn’t counted on.

  “And how to prepare for the war,” Gideon blurted hurriedly. Michael shot him a reproachful look, and Gideon shifted slightly in his chair. Nick leaned back.

  “Gideon, it would have been nice to talk to him for more than two sentences before springing the war on him,” Isda scolded, as if he were a sibling. Though he wasn’t, decades together in a pack bred a familiar dynamic.

  “War?” Nick was trepidatious.

  “I’m sorry, Nick. As I said, this isn’t how we usually do this, but we fear that if you’re not informed, you may fall into danger. There is a war going on. Actually, multiple wars involving our species, but since we are here and now, let’s focus only on the main one that could affect you at this time. The others don’t really have any way of touching you, at least not under the present circumstances.” Nick nodded and took a sip of his coffee; hanging on Michael’s every word. Again, he was momentarily distracted by the man’s intensity, but re-focused his attention as Michael continued.

  “There are five shifter tribes in existence that we know of. Some humans don’t know about us at all. Some shifters, like your family, don’t affiliate with their tribe, and some of their offspring who are shifters, like you, don’t know about us either. Then there are humans who know we exist, but we’re more of an abstract concept to them, an entity with whom they don’t interact, kind of like angels, perhaps,” Michael sighed deeply. “Some humans, however, know exactly what we are and seek to use us to gain power for themselves.”

  “How can they do that?” How could humans even catch them, given the difference in strength and abilities? Nick wondered.

  “If we fought on an equal footing, they couldn’t,” Michael agreed. “But they use deception, misdirection and lies. Plus, they sometimes use the power of other shifters and, with that; it is definitely possible for us to be captured.”

  “Powers of other shifters—how?” Nick asked. Michael glanced at Isda with gravity, and even Gideon seemed uncomfortable with this line of conversation. Isda leaned in and rested her hand on Nick’s, in reassurance.

  “They use the ground up bones of shifters they have killed,” Isda confided. “Sometimes other parts as well, like the heart, the nails and the hair.” As she finished, Gideon smoothed his long, golden strands reflexively.

  “It can give them some shifter powers for a short while and, if it’s ingested repeatedly and often enough, they can benefit from a somewhat slower aging process the rest of the time they’re human,” Michael stated. Nick’s head was swimming with all the information, and he felt nauseated again, unsure if it was a side effect of the Nydor, or just his new reality.

  “What shifter powers can they obtain?” Nick queried.

  “It depends on the primary skills of the shifter they harvested—that’s what they call it, harvesting,” Isda informed him. “For example, I can do inanimate objects better. Gideon is the best at animals and Michael—well, Michael is special. There are unique powers, so many that we’re discovering new ones all the time, plus certain packs with the Wisdoms, or tribes, tend to be more skilled in one talent or another. ”

  Nick leaned forward on his elbows, focusing on the three for a moment. They are telling the truth, he thought to himself with some degree of confidence, but they want more from me than they are saying.

  “So, you just want to teach me how to use my power so I don’t get myself killed, is that right? Why do you care?” Nick pressed.

  Sensing he might lose this recruit, Michael chose his words carefully, “I won’t lie to you, Nick. I believe there may come a day when we need more from you, like your help in fighting the humans; but for now—yes, we are only seeking to help you get a handle on your power and learn how to wield it properly.”

  “And with mighty strength,” Gideon added, ever focused on projecting the strength angle. If this new recruit was going to be part of their pack, he would be no help if he showed any weaknesses.

  Nick slid his chair away from the table. “Thanks for the information. I’ll think about it.”

  Michael knew that time was of the essence because the enemy was already circling Nick, but he was also aware that if he pushed too hard, Nick might get skittish and bolt.

  “Just don’t take too long.” Michael said, holding out his phone. Nick quickly tapped it, sending himself Michael’s number and then exited the room, hitting his head against a wayward twinkle light as he left. Once outside, he dialed Abby back, returning her prior call and got her voicemail.

  “Hey, Abby. It’s Nick. I have to go home and see my parents this weekend. A family conference, so to speak. Let me know if you want to ride along to visit your folks. I could use
the company on the drive.” He hung up, hoping his parents would have the knowledge—and be willing—to shed some added light on dealing with the pack.

  3

  With the trunk packed and a myriad of questions in his mind, Nick pulled up in front of Abby’s dorm, coming to rest near a large palmetto bush that obstructed his view of the approaching walkway. He texted her of his arrival, then waited, adjusting the music. He stared out the driver’s window until he heard the passenger door open, but when he turned he was surprised to see Jared getting into the seat next to him, shoving a backpack between his feet on the floorboard in front of him. All the while flashing Nick another megawatt smile.

  “Hey,” Jared was once again quite chipper considering the early hour. Nick looked at him quizzically for half a second before the rear door swung open, and Abby’s head popped in, random curls springing out of the twisted dancer’s knot on top of her head.

  “Pop the trunk please,” she ordered in her sing-songy voice. Nick obeyed automatically, still staring at Jared. Abby flung her suitcase into the trunk, slammed it shut and then flopped down in the backseat, her own backpack on the seat beside her now, its frayed edges adorned with patches of ballet shoes and Broadway show logos.

  She continued, “Hey, Nick! Thanks for the transport home. I brought a whole suitcase full of laundry along, so you’re saving me a boatload. Oh yeah, Jared’s coming, I hope you don’t mind. I couldn’t go unless Jared went, since we can’t afford to miss two days of rehearsals. This way, he and I can rehearse every morning at my old dance school—I already checked with Miss Gina—then we can just hang out the rest of the day.”

  “Geez, Abby, how much caffeine have you had already?” Nick asked.

  “None!” she beamed. “You know me… high on life, baby! You don’t mind, do you?” she asked. Nick eyed Jared.

  “Of course not,” he said, pulling out of the lot. Less than an hour later Abby was asleep, curled up on the back seat like a kitten, her head resting on her backpack for a pillow.