Shifter

by Jennifer Reynolds

  I give him an indulging smile in which he seems to be able to read the truth.

  “I don’t think so,” I finally say.

  “Oh, I’m sure there are plenty of men or…women…” He pauses as if inviting me to state my preference, but I don’t divulge anything. Nodding his head, he smirks at me. “Anyway, I’m sure that there is someone out there who would enjoy your company.”

  “No one I’ve met recently,” I say, looking at him pointedly, wanting to ask him if he wants to spend time with me.

  “I bet if you opened yourself up a little you’d see that you get more attention than you think you do.” Is he offering?

  “I’m plenty aware of how people react to me. I promise.” I look down at the ground suddenly feeling the need to not make eye contact with him.

  “Let’s test your theory. Go out with me this afternoon. Take me on a tour of your town, and I’ll show you how much attention you get.”

  My head jerks up painfully. I search his face to see if he is being serious. He looks serious, but he can’t possibly be serious.

  “Going out with you would be the only reason I would get any attention,” I say, countering his point and ignoring the fact that he might have just asked me on a date.

  “You don’t give yourself that much credit, do you?” His eyes grow a little sad.

  “I know better. I’m not a stupid person.”

  “You aren’t as smart as you think you are,” he says a little flirtatiously.

  “Oh, I’m definitely as smart as I think I am.” Shit, am I flirting back? This isn’t good.

  “All right, I agree. You are as smart as you are beautiful.” His words are teasing, and I know I’m taking them the wrong way, but I can’t help it.

  “And the insults just keep on coming.”

  “Damn it, woman, I can’t win for losing with you. Fine, don’t go out with me. I still say you should get out more often.”

  A little shocked by the man’s boldness, I say, “That’s easy for you to say. Giving advice on something you’re on the outside of is always easy. I will keep an eye out for your brother. In the meantime, you should go talk to Grace.” Saying this, I take a step back into my house and go to shut the door.

  “Thank you, Miss…”

  “Abby. My name is Abby.”

  He stands there for a moment waiting for my last name. When I don’t give it he says, “Thank you, Miss Abby.”

  “You’re welcome.” I shut the door before he can say anything else. For reasons I cannot understand, I’m pissed. I’m pissed at myself for being nice to him. Being nice to some people seems to always make them feel as if they have to be nice right back. This means that they say things they don’t mean, things that piss people like me off and give those who are delusional false hope.

  I bound down the hall, fling open the bathroom door, and glare at my new cat. I can’t yell at him, despite how much I want to yell. Locking him in the bathroom was punishment enough. I don’t pick him up though. I leave the door open to let him come out whenever he feels like leaving.

  I put the flyer on the fridge door, make myself a glass of milk, and crawl into bed where I cry myself to sleep.

  “What the…” I nearly yell, jerking up from my pillow. The phone is ringing. Why is my phone ringing? I glance over at the clock to see that I slept for nearly an hour.

  “Hello,” I answer, not looking at the ID.

  “Abby, you all right?” my loving, overprotective best friend since childhood who now lives three hours away asks.

  “Yeah, Crystal, I’m fine. I was napping.”

  “What’s wrong?” She knows me too well. I only nap when I’m upset.

  “Nothing. Just having a pity party. Nothing you haven’t heard before.”

  “Did someone say or do something to you?” I want to hug her for the overprotective tone.

  “No, an extremely good-looking guy was nice to me.”

  “I see. Did he ask you out?”

  “Kind of. I’m not sure. He might have, or he was just being overly nice to the fat girl to prove that he isn’t a chauvinistic pig. Either way, you know me; I took it all wrong. Don’t get me wrong, I was nice to him, but I’ve been down on myself ever since, especially since he told me there was nothing wrong with me. Like he knew I was being all insecure.”

  “That was sweet. Are you sure he wasn’t interested?” she asks in a way that suggests that she would lay money on the fact that he was, and I ignore her.

  “You know he wasn’t. He was only nice because he wanted something from me.”

  “What did he want? Did you give it to him?” I do laugh this time at the eagerness in her voice.

  “He didn’t want that.”

  My new cat nudges my hand, and I pet him. “Feeling bad for your bad behavior, are you,” I mouth down at him. He nudges my hand again and meows. I give him a hard scratch for the meow. He almost never makes a noise.

  “No, his brother is missing,” I tell Crystal. “A witness said she saw him heading into my neighborhood. Devan wanted to know if I had seen him. We talked for a few minutes, then he left. He was fine. I’m so ashamed. I answered the door in sweats and everything.”

  “Were you braless?” I can picture her raising her eyebrows suggestively as she asks this.

  “God, is that all you think about? And no, I had on a bra.”

  “Yes, and damn.” She said the “damn” as if she was disappointed that I had had on a bra.

  “Why?”

  “Have you seen your tits? They’re about beautiful.”

  “Gay much?” I tease.

  “Shut up. They are your best asset aside from your eyes. And we all know men don’t look there.”

  “Yeah, well, my breasts might be big, but the bigger I get, the saggier they get.”

  “I bet your nipples still stick straight out when they are hard, and that’s all men care about, isn’t it?”

  “You are incorrigible. And I wouldn’t know. My nipples haven’t been hard for a man in a long time. And I don’t pay attention to them when they are hard for other reasons.”

  “All the more reason to invite him in the next time he comes by your house.”

  “I doubt he will be back.”

  “I don’t know about that. Did he have money?”

  “I don’t know. Why?”

  “People with money can afford to be persistent. How old is his brother? I didn’t hear an amber alert on him.”

  “You wouldn’t have. He’s thirty-two.”

  “What?”

  “Yeah. Hold on, and I’ll read you the flyer.” I get out of bed, my nameless cat following behind me.

  “His name is Dimitri Sullivan,” I read to Crystal as I walk over to my desk and take a seat.

  My new friend continues to follow me, which is strange. He never gives me this much attention. He meows again and head-butts the flyer. I move it out of his way, and he swipes at it, snagging it with a claw. “Stop it,” I tell him and continue reading the information to Crystal. “He is thirty-two years old. Six foot one. Weighs roughly two hundred pounds. Last seen on foot in the area of Smallbrooks. His brothers’ names are here along with a number to call if someone finds him. Devan was the one to come to my door. He said that he, his brother, and some friends were going door to door asking if anyone has seen him.”

  When I lay the piece of paper back down, the cat sits down on the picture right over the man’s face and puts a paw over the name. I give him a quizzical look before going back to my conversation. He is a very odd cat indeed.

  “He must be important to his family. Did they call the police?” Crystal asks.

  “Yeah, but there isn’t much to go on or to do. There is no evidence of foul play. The evidence suggests that he simply walked away from his life, and I’m betting that is what he has done. I feel kind of bad though. His poor brother is torn up about it.”

  “That Dimitri guy sounds like an ass. I mean who just up and leaves his family like that.” />
  “We don’t know the entire situation. Damn it, cat, stop.” In a need for attention, my new cat has started pawing at the paper. When I pull the flyer out from under him, I notice the gashes he has made have removed the man’s name. I give the cat another questioning look, and he stares intently at me as if he is trying to tell me something. I look down at the paper, then back at him, but before I can ask him anything, Crystal asks me a question.

  “Huh?” I ask unsure of what she has said and throw the paper back onto my desk.

  “I asked what’s going on.”

  “Oh, nothing. My new addition has been acting strange all day. For a month now all he has done is mope around here, then all of sudden today he follows me to the front door when Devan knocks, showing an actual interest in something. When I open the door, he leaps on Devan, attaching himself firmly to the man’s shirt. He doesn’t try to climb up him or even try to escape the house. He just latches on to the man as if he is drowning, and Devan is his lifeline. And now, he keeps pawing at the flyer. He tore a hole right through the flyer and is now sitting on it, again.”

  “You really know how to pick them.”

  “That’s the understatement of the year. Listen sweetie, I need to get off here and work a little. I have deadlines to meet. Did you need anything in particular?”

  “Nah, I just wanted to say hi. I’ll let you go. Remember the next time hottie knocks on your door; let him in. And I mean in every sense of the word.”

  “You are bad.”

  “I’m a married woman. I’m a woman married to a man whose job takes him all over the country for long periods of time. In ten years, when I’ve had enough of his kids and his absence, I will contemplate cheating. For right now, I love my life; therefore, I have to live vicariously through my single friends.”

  “You’re living through the wrong friend then, sweetie, because the only person giving me any is me.”

  “Tapping out now. I don’t need to hear any more about you and that purple vibrating thing in your dresser. I have my own vibrating monstrosity. Love you.”

  “Love you too.”

  I click the end button, sit the phone down beside my new annoyance, and move my mouse to pull my computer out of sleep mode. Swiping his paw away from what remains of the man’s name, I mouth “Dimitri Sullivan.” He meows as if to answer me. “You like that name?” I ask, typing in the name, then say the name again. He meows again.

  “Dimitri? Is that your name, little guy?” It is an odd sort of name for a cat, but he does seem to like it. I say it again, and again he meows. “All right then, Dimitri it is. But if that fine piece of ass comes back to my door, we won’t tell him that is your name. It’s a little too creepy and stalkerish.”

  I spend the next hour or so searching for Dimitri and his brothers online. Dimitri the cat looks over my shoulder the entire time as if he is reading the sites with me. I don’t really find much on them. There is a Whitepages’ listing for his brother Devan that only gives a post office box number and no phone number. All three brothers’ names come up as employees of Sullivan’s Architects, a Nashville based company owned by their father, Daniel. If there are any other siblings, their names aren’t on the website.

  Dimitri’s bio on the company website says that he joined his father’s firm a year after his brother Devan and two years after their brother Darius. All three boys graduated with their Master’s in Architecture from the University of Tennessee in Knoxville. The company has branches all across the United States and each son heads his own set of them.

  I widen my search away from the Tennessee area and discover the oldest brother also has a Kentucky address. That is if the two people are the same people. Again, all he has is a post office box but no phone number. Wait….didn’t Devan say his oldest brother lived next to him? Were they all in Kentucky?

  I tried searching around the area of Kentucky the Internet says this Darius is from for the other two but find nothing. The youngest brother, especially, is a ghost. This lack of information makes me wonder if maybe he is the black sheep of the family. Their picture on the Sullivan and Sons Architect website makes them look like your average, run-of-the-mill family, but pictures can be deceiving. Dimitri could be the family drunk. He might have felt the pressure of having to follow in his father or brothers’ footsteps. All of these possibilities cause me to lean toward the idea that Dimitri doesn’t want his family, or anyone else, for that matter, to find him. I wouldn’t tell Devan that of course, if he ever came back around.

  I feel my face flush at the thought, then say to my Dimitri as I run my hands down his furry back, “I can’t look like this if he comes back.”

  Chapter 6

  ~~~Dimitri~~~

  Not only did I degrade myself to the point that I let her pick me up when Devan knocked on the door, but I humiliated myself when I saw my brother standing on her front porch by throwing myself into his arms. My only saving grace is that he didn’t know me. I rushed right into telling him about Mave and the curse that it took me a second to realize that he hadn’t heard a word I said.

  To make matters worse, she had to go and lock me in the bathroom. Oh, if Devan ever finds out about this, I’m never going to live it down. She is lucky that I have supernatural hearing, or I would have scratched a hole in her door to get out.

  Even though he doesn’t know what has happened to me, he knows that something has happened, and my family and my pack are looking for me. I shouldn’t have doubted that fact, but when no one had showed up to get me at the shelter or during the last month, I had actually begun to worry.

  Normally, Devan isn’t a trusting person, but I’m glad he saw something in Abby he liked that caused him to share so much information or I wouldn’t know anything. I’m sure their “witness” is Sam. She’s a powerful witch and would be able to at least point them in the right direction. I didn’t like his flirting with Abby or her flirting with him, though. Devan’s a good guy, but the two of them aren’t right for each other.

  I felt defeated when he left, but I am glad he is gone. Although, I hadn’t expected Abby to act the way she did; crying herself to sleep and all. At no point in their conversation had he said anything that should have incited such a reaction.

  I paced outside her bedroom door for the longest time trying to puzzle it out until her friend called and woke her. I quickly deduced the problem from their conversation. Anger the likes of which I have never experienced before swept over me. I want to kill every person who has ever had a bad thought toward her. I did perk up a bit at the mention of her purple vibrator. That conversation pushed aside all of other thoughts, and I wondered if she would use it after she got off the phone with her friend.

  Of course, she didn’t, though, the conversation did shift to me, and I took advantage of it to try to give her a clue about who I am. All she got out of my actions was my name. I could live with that. For now. Having her call me by my actual name makes me feel a little bit human.

  I hear her say, “I can’t still be looking like this if he comes back here,” and it pulls me into the present.

  I don’t know what the hell she is talking about. Apparently, she is continuing a conversation she has been having in her head. I don’t like the way her face turns all red with her words. The color makes her look as if she has been having dirty thoughts. I watch her face as she thinks about whatever it is that she has been thinking about and reveling at her hands in my fur. What does she mean she can’t look like she does when/if he comes back? She looks fine.

  Women. I leap off her desk, circle the sofa cushion a few times, then flop down to contemplate my life some more. Finding this unsuitable, I jump back over onto the arm of the sofa, where she begins to slightly stroke my back. All I ever do these days is take stock of everything that is or has happened to me. I feel a little satisfied with the day, despite her locking me in the bathroom. My powers are coming back. Slowly. Obviously, not enough for Devan to hear my thoughts, but nonetheless, they are coming back.<
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  I still can’t do anything to things outside my body. I can grow and shorten my hair and nails, alter my color, and the biggest thing of all is that when I eat that nasty ass food I can alter the way it tastes and smells once it hits my mouth. I can’t change the texture or the look, so I have to force myself to lower my mouth to it, but once I’ve taken a bite, I can trick myself into thinking I’m eating a burger or a steak. I have also sped my growth up slightly. She hasn’t noticed. Probably because they told her I was going to be a big cat, so she is expecting the rapid growth.

  What is she doing now? I wonder. I was nearly asleep with the feel of her hands on my back. Why did she have to stop? I hadn’t thought I would like anyone petting me. When the kids came over, I hid. They weren’t rough with me or anything; I just didn’t like them touching me. I didn’t like her sister doing it either, though, she doesn’t seem to like cats much and doesn’t feel the need to touch me that often.

  Abby on the other hand, makes me feel calm when she touches me, makes me feel as if this entire messed up situation is going to be just fine. I don’t know how she does it or what it is about her that calms me, but she does.

  If I was human, I probably wouldn’t have given her much thought. I know that is sad, but it’s true. To hear my brothers talk, I didn’t pay attention to most women. When I did, boy, I picked real winners, let me tell you. I’m not saying she isn’t pretty; she is lovely, and she isn’t all that overweight. I actually like women with curves. I like them soft and smooth.

  Okay, I gotta shift directions. I’ve never had a boner in this form, and I don’t want to start now with her looking right at me. Well, she isn’t actually looking at me as much as looking through me. She is thinking hard about something.

  No, it is more the aura she has around her. She seems happy on the surface, but the feelings radiating off her are ones of self-doubt and deprecation. She hates herself. I mean hates herself. She isn’t one of those people who talks to herself all of the time, despite the fact that she lives alone, but when she does, nine times out of ten, she is putting herself down over something.