Shifter's Destiny

by Anna Leonard

  And then the instant was over, and she was moving away, aware that Maggie was watching every move they made a little too carefully.

  There was a man sitting on an overturned crate at one end, but he and Josh sized each other up once and then the old man had nodded and gone back to whatever he was writing in his notebook. And then the train lurched forward again, and they were moving.

  The car was half-filled with plastic crates the size of refrigerators, but the floor was surprisingly clean, and Maggie was already busy making a little nest of sorts in the far corner, pulling out her sweatshirt to have something to sit on. Elizabeth did the same, and leaned against one of the crates, letting out a sigh. After a minute, Maggie scooted over and rested against her.

  For the moment, at least, they could stop and relax, letting the rail rumble underneath them, taking them...somewhere else. No tickets, no map...no way to predict where they might get off or when. It was insane, and yet comforting, at the same time.

  Maggie was too restless to stay still for long, and once the rocking of the car became more familiar, she got up to explore. Elizabeth was tempted to warn her to stay close, but Maggie skirted around the other man without being told, leaving him a full half of the car, and Josh was there watching, as well.

  Reassured, Elizabeth took all three backpacks and resorted them so that they each had some food with them, just in case. Maggie had made very smart choices: except for the sandwiches she put out for them to eat now, it was all prepackaged goods that would keep—a small jar of peanut butter, a sleeve of crackers, a handful of granola bars and a box of pretzel sticks. She had also grabbed an assortment of fruit, including bananas, which Maggie hated—but knew that her sister loved. Touched, Elizabeth kept them for her own bag.

  As she worked, she kept glancing up at Josh, who had settled on the floor across from her, and kept staring at the freight car’s door with a strange, almost pained expression on his face. Once again she wondered what they were taking him away from—and why he was still traveling with them.

  All at once he seemed to come to some decision, and when Maggie came back to them, he indicated that she should sit by him.

  “I’ve not told you much about my family, have I?”

  “You haven’t told us anything,” Maggie said, already anticipating a story.

  “Ah. Well, we have the time now, don’t we?”

  Elizabeth kept working, but listened in, just as fascinated as her sister, as he began to spin patently fantastic tales of a great herd of Mustang, who lived just like normal people most of their lives, holding down jobs and going to school—but twice a year gathered in a great herd out on the Western plains, and returned to their proper state, running wild with the wind.

  “In the herd, the stallions are there to protect and defend and otherwise be useful,” he was telling Maggie now, “but it’s the females who make the decisions.”

  “Like Elizabeth!” Maggie crowed, and then looked guiltily at her sister. Pleased that Maggie had recovered some of her fun-loving spirit, where she had been so fierce before, Elizabeth just smiled and shook her head.

  “Yes. Elizabeth would have made an excellent leader,” Josh said, smiling up at her, and then added, “but she is far too young. The eldest mare is the one who leads us. When I left, Grace had been herd-leader for forty years. Nobody crosses her!”

  Maggie’s eyes were side. “Is she mean?”

  He laughed, with a wince of memory. “She can get very angry if you cross her, but no, she’s not mean. She’s a lovely woman, actually. I miss her.” He smiled. “She’s my grandmother.”

  Elizabeth, watching the two of them together, was taken aback that this quietly handsome man, so good with her sister, was the same creature that killed a man in cold blood and—she had no doubt—would have killed the other two and Meg as well, had she allowed it.

  It was antithetical to everything she believed, that violence was no answer, that discussion and negotiation were the way to solve every problem, and yet...she had to admit that there would have been no negotiating with those men, because there was no negotiating with Ray. You either agreed with him, or you were wrong, and if you were wrong then your voice was of no importance.

  She found herself, perhaps inevitably, comparing Josh to Cody. Both good-looking, yes, although Cody had been darker, with snapping black eyes that seemed to laugh constantly. Josh was more serious—a man who had seen the world, while Cody, like her, had never gone far beyond the Community.

  Cody, as much as she had loved him, had never been strong. He had never needed to; his sweet manner made people want to make him happy, and so life had been easy for him. Until she had come to him with her fears, and it had all gone downhill, and ended with him hanging from a rope slung over a tree in his backyard.

  The rush of guilt came just as fast and hard, but she didn’t let it swamp her. She had to focus on the living, now.

  Josh was strong, in both of his forms, and definitely stubborn. Nobody would force him to do anything he didn’t choose to do. He was also violent, where Cody had never, to the best of her knowledge, lifted his voice in anger. He was an unknown, and the unknown could be terrifying—and dangerous. And yet her body reacted to Josh in a way that she had never felt with Cody, in all the years she had known him.

  Elizabeth’s innate honesty twisted in her, and she had to admit—to herself at least—that she had never reacted this way to anyone, not even men she’d found unbearably hot, physically. No other man had managed to make her throat close up and her stomach get flutters and her— She hesitated, even in her mind not sure how to describe it. “Her vagina” sounded too clinical, and all the other words were too rude, but the euphemisms she had read as a teenager were just silly. Whatever word used, the truth was that when he looked at her with those dark eyes, his lids half-hooded and his gaze intent, he didn’t have to be touching her and she was still wet and ready for him, aching for the feel of him, his hands, his mouth and, yes, his cock inside her. She remembered the feeling of being astride his back, in his other form, and her cheeks flushed hotly. Suddenly she understood the eroticism of horseback riding, although she suspected that her feelings were slightly different than most.

  It would have been enjoyable, those memories, and that sensation of being ready to burst into flames every time he even looked at her, if Josh hadn’t made it quite clear from the start that he would only be interested in a virgin.

  Elizabeth looked away, afraid her thoughts might show on her face. She had been a virgin once. It really hadn’t been anything special—she certainly hadn’t been a better person before she had sex, or any more loving, or kind, or...

  Enough, she told herself. Whatever his reasons, he has reasons. Don’t unicorns and virgins go together, after all? Maybe that was why...he and Maggie certainly fit together well, even though she didn’t think he saw Maggie as anything other than a little sister, now. The girl who talked to animals, and their self-appointed guardian who shifted into a unicorn at the first sign of trouble. It sounded like a fairy tale, a children’s book. In this group, she was the odd one. The thought made her oddly melancholy. Her entire life, she thought she knew how life went, what her role was, who her friends were. One turn or twist of fate, and all that was revealed as a lie. Cody gone, Ray a danger, Elders coming after them rather than defending them, and Meg betraying them like that.

  In the crucible of the bad things that had happened, Elizabeth had redefined herself, stripping away everything else—daughter, friend, baker, Community member—until only one role was left. Her only focus, for months now, had been protecting Maggie. With Josh—the Mustang—here now, sworn to protect her sister, what role could she, Elizabeth, play?

  That melancholy thought occupied her while the train rattled on, and Josh told Maggie more and more outrageous stories about places he had been, and things he had seen, until the man at the ot
her end of the car slapped his palm flat against the floor of the car, and they all jumped. Some sort of information seemed to pass between him and Josh, and when the man gathered up his belongings and slipped out the door—even though the train was still rolling, making Elizabeth gasp—Josh started to gather their own things, as well.

  “We need to get out, now.”

  Elizabeth shook her head in protest. “But the train’s still moving!”

  “It will slow down soon, and then I’ll want you to toss your bags out, and jump. I’ll go first and be there for you, okay?”

  Maggie was already grabbing her bag, making sure that her sneakers were tied tightly. She would fling herself out of a plane in midair, if her unicorn told her to.

  “But why?” Elizabeth needed more than his say-so.

  He hesitated, as though thinking over how much to tell her, how quickly. “We’re coming to an area where they check the cars. We don’t want to get caught.”

  “That man told you that?”

  “There’s an entire language for people who ride the rails, slang and hand symbols and markings. I don’t know much of it, but there are a few signals I’ve learned.”

  An entire world Elizabeth couldn’t even imagine, riding the rails, traveling like this on a regular basis. The Community, her home, her bakery, it all seemed another lifetime ago.

  “Come on,” he said, and Maggie went to the door, looking back over her shoulder as though asking the adults what was taking so long.

  Josh moved to the door beside her and slid it open a little more. They were passing through farmland now, acres of green and brown, dotted with the occasional farmhouse and cut by single-lane roads. She looked down at the slope leading from the tracks, and the ground looked frighteningly faraway. There was no way Maggie could jump it, and the car showed no sign of slowing down, despite Josh’s promises.

  He saw their expressions, and seemed to debate something with himself, then nodded. “All right. We’ll do this a different way. Get your packs on your back, and make sure they’re secured, okay?” He handed his own pack to Elizabeth, and stepped away from them, back into the car.

  And, like magic, he shifted. It couldn’t have been more than a minute, and Elizabeth wasn’t sure if she had actually seen his muscles stretch and elongate, his skin turning to hide, or if her brain just filled in those details to cover something even more impossible, but where Josh had stood, now the Mustang waited for them. A horse didn’t have expressions, but she swore that he had the most impatient look on his...face? Muzzle? His eyes, that was it. No matter what his shape, those brown eyes were the same. It was almost enough to make her laugh, how splendid that realization was.

  He struck one hoof against the floor, and lowered his proud neck, indicated that they should get a move on, and mount.

  Maggie scrambled on first, her pack bobbing awkwardly over her shoulder as she put her foot into the cup of Elizabeth’s hands and hauled herself onto that broad back. Once she was secure, she leaned forward, giving her sister room to mount, as well.

  Elizabeth hesitated, the awareness that it was Josh inside that equine frame making her suddenly self-conscious. Reaching up to grab a handful of the thick white-blond mane that felt so similar to—and so unlike—Josh’s hair, she leaned against his muscled neck and whispered an apology for pulling, then hauled herself up. Her right leg swung across his back and she settled herself behind Maggie, her free arm snaking around her sister’s waist, both of them leaning forward to keep their balance, fingers tangled in his mane. Josh’s knapsack was slung across her shoulder, opposite her own: an awkward solution, but she didn’t know what else to do with it.

  “All right,” she said into one backward-pointing white ear. “As ready as we’re going to get.”

  The Mustang walked to the now-open door, letting them settle onto his back as needed, and then paused. The train let out a long whistle, and the cars began to slow. Not enough, Elizabeth thought, gripping the mane tighter, closing her arms around Maggie as though that would keep her safe. Not nearly enough.

  “We trust you,” she heard her sister whisper into those white ears, and they flicked back once in acknowledgement, and then he gathered himself, and suddenly, awesomely, they were flying.

  And before she could really appreciate it, or realize how terrified she was, or enjoy Maggie’s delighted squeal, they landed hard on the ground, the impact jostling her bones and almost knocking them off the Mustang’s back. He recovered almost immediately, racing away from the tracks with long strides that felt more comfortable than the rocking of the train.

  They were in farmland for certain now, and she noted, even as the wind made her eyes tear, that he avoided stepping onto tilled ground, instead staying on the lumpier, less even land. The human brain inside the animal form, making sure that he didn’t ruin anyone’s crops.

  The Mustang could be violent, yes. It could also be gentle. She pulled her arm tighter around Maggie, making her sister mutter in protest, and let herself just enjoy the feel of so much horsepower underneath them, confident that he would not stumble, or let them fall.

  Finally, his strides slowed to a walk and, his sides heaving slightly, he stopped, allowing them to slide off and rely on their own slightly wobbly legs.

  “Oh, that was fun!” Maggie said in delight, and then stopped, her eyes going wide not with excitement, but fear. She looked over her shoulder, and then turned in a circle as though trying to catch a scent. Mustang, alerted by her behavior, or perhaps sensing something wrong on his own, mirrored her stance, turning slightly, preparing himself for action. His hooves struck at the ground, pawing at it.

  “Baby? What is it?” Elizabeth asked.

  “Bad animals,” Maggie whispered, taking her sister’s hand in her own cold one, all joy and laughter gone. “They found us.”

  Chapter 11

  Her sister’s words sent shock and fear back into Elizabeth as well, and the sense of foreboding and dread that had filled her dreams for so many weeks came flooding back in, raising all the doubts and fears that the Mustang’s presence had driven away. Suddenly it didn’t matter how brave they were, how sharp and strong his blows might be, if these “bad animals” could find them where they went, or what they did.

  Maggie’s scared expression kept her from saying or showing any of that. Instead, she tried to mimic Mustang’s ready stance, as best her weaker human form could. It was difficult to prepare herself, though, not knowing what to expect. What were the bad animals? Neither sister’s sense of them had been specific. Should they look for a wave of rabid dogs streaming toward them? A pride of lions, intent on the kill? A flock of birds, à la Hitchcock?

  What they got was the nearby slam of a car door, and five figures walking toward them at a steady but unthreatening pace.

  The ordinariness of it should have relieved Elizabeth. Instead, it made her tense even more. Another batch of Ray’s goons, it had to be. It seemed almost anticlimactic after Maggie’s pronouncement, but Elizabeth did not for a moment underestimate how dangerous this could get. Unlike the flea market, or Meg’s suburban neighborhood, there was nobody out here to see what happened—nobody to stop them from using even more violence. Could Mustang’s solid flesh deflect bullets? She didn’t think so.

  Elizabeth reached toward the unicorn’s neck, intending to tell Maggie to get on and ride the hell away, but he shied away from her touch and she looked to him in astonishment.

  His eyes were wide, his ears pricked forward, and his black-rimmed nostrils were flaring heavily, as though he were badly winded. If he were an ordinary horse she would have said he was about to bolt, but this was no ordinary horse. This was a Mustang. She reached out again and this time he let her place her hand against his side. The flesh was warm from their run, and she could feel his great heart pounding in his rib cage. Not from exertion, though. This was fear, yes
, but also anger. She could feel the difference, touching him.

  Bad animals. Whatever Maggie meant by that, whoever these people were, they frightened him, and his fear made him want to strike out, not run. Why was he frightened now, when before he had been so fierce?

  “Bad animals,” Maggie said in a whisper, pressing herself against Elizabeth’s side and sliding an arm around her waist, hugging herself against her sister’s body as though to disappear into her.

  Looking back at the five figures, now much closer, Elizabeth saw that there was something...odd about three of them. They walked wrong—upright, but barely, with a rolling pace that was more akin to a giraffe’s lope than a human’s walk. Their bodies were out of proportion, or oddly elongated, and the way they held their heads, down and forward, not erect... Something prickled at the back of her neck, and she started to understand Mustang’s fear.

  Whatever was coming toward them...wasn’t human.

  Bad animals.

  “What do we do?” she asked the Mustang, who snorted once, roughly, and lowered his head so that his horn was pointing at a downward angle, at the intruders.

  “Fight them? But how? We can’t...”

  The answer came to her as clearly as he’d spoken in her ear. They couldn’t. He could.

  “He wants us to hide,” Maggie said.

  “But...” Elizabeth looked around, uncomfortable taking her eyes off the approaching creatures. They were in the middle of a field, in the middle of nowhere. How could they escape?