Shifter

by Jennifer Reynolds

  “Yeah. Yeah. I’m fine. Do any of you want something to drink? I’ve got bottled water, iced un-sweet-decaf tea. . .” she says, getting up and going to the fridge.

  I follow right on her heels, whining low in my throat. My dad is right behind me. She ignores me. I beg Dad to ask her again.

  “Tea for me,” my dad says aloud. Forgetting to use his telepathy, he says to me, “You can insist all you want, son, but if she doesn’t want to talk about whatever it is that is bothering her, I’m not going to force her.”

  She pretends she doesn’t hear him and says, “Here’s your tea, Mr. Sullivan.” Devan and Mom hadn’t asked for anything put she pours them drinks anyway.

  “Please call me Daniel,” Dad says, taking the cup from her. She nods and repeats his name.

  “And I’m Katelyn,” my mother says when Abby hands her a drink. Abby laughs a little. “Is my name funny?”

  “Oh, no,” Abby says embarrassed by her outburst. “It’s just—Dimitri, Devan, Darius, Daniel—I was expecting you to have a D name.”

  Mom laughs. “Yeah. I think we over did it with the Ds. It started out with Daniel junior. He died a long time ago. Hunting accident,” she says before Abby can ask. “Then Darius came along and we decided to go with D names. Mind you, we weren’t expecting to have four boys. Do you have any brothers or sisters?”

  “Just one sister. We’re real close, though.”

  Conversation picks up easily after that. I continue to watch her as much as possible. Occasionally she catches me eying her, though I do try to make myself focus on my father. I catch him watching me with a smile on his face. When I ask him why he is looking at me like that, he shakes his head. My mother, thankfully, doesn’t seem to notice me looking at her. I think Devan does, but I never catch him looking at either one of us. His mood seems to get gradually worse and worse the longer they stay.

  “Are you sure you don’t mind if Sam comes by?” my mother asks, as they are getting ready to leave.

  “No. If it will help stop that woman and get Dimitri back to normal, she is more than welcome. Can she do that popping in and out thing that you guys do?” Abby replies.

  “No, but I’ll drop her off,” Devan says. “Just call the second he shifts. He has to be in his human form. Dimitri says Mave didn’t touch him, but Sam says a spell that strong should have come with some sort of physical contact and would have left a mark. I’ll also stop by tomorrow and drop off some stuff for him.”

  “Thanks, he could really use some clothes,” she says without thinking. Her face turns red again as she realize what she has said.

  “Nudity is part of shifting,” my father says without missing a beat. “If you spend too much time around us, you will become immune to seeing naked bodies.”

  “I don’t think I will ever get used to that,” she says, her face growing brighter. I try to enter her head to see what she is thinking. I see images of myself naked from the night before and my shirtless body from earlier this morning. Snippets of her thoughts flow in and out, and I realize that she is thinking that she has a hard enough time taking her eyes off my half-naked body, never mind my naked one.

  My father laughs, and everyone says their good-byes. She plops down on the sofa when they leave, as if she is relieved they are gone. “Next time, I think I’ll leave you guys alone. That was uncomfortable with all of you conversing that way.”

  I want to tell her I am sorry she was uncomfortable, but all I can do is leap onto the sofa and sit quietly beside her.

  -----

  “Abby… Abby wake up,” I whisper to her sleeping form early the next morning.

  She rolls over mumbling and opens her eyes. To my surprise, she doesn’t scream at the sight of me crouched down beside the bed.

  “What time is it? How long have you been human?” she asks, flipping on her bedroom light and rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

  “It’s one in the morning. I’ve been human about a minute,” I say, taking a seat at the foot of the bed. She looks me up and down, and a small frown crosses her lips, as she takes in my appearance, making me smile. I wonder if she is disappointed that I have on clothes. I look her over, trying to decide if she has on shorts or if she is just in a shirt and panties.

  “What’s with you and shifting at night?” she asks, sitting up and letting her blanket pull around her thighs. Disappoint floods me when I see that she is wearing shorts. She catches me looking at her and yanks the blankets back up. As if she is suddenly aware and fearful of her appearance, she begins to flatten her hair while searching for a clip.

  “I’m not sure. Don’t call Sam though. We’ll wait until I shift at a more suitable hour.”

  “You sure? She may be our best chance at stopping Mave.”

  “Yeah, but it’s too late now. I seem to be shifting regularly. Chances are high I’ll find myself human during the day sometime soon.”

  “You want me to make up the sofa?”

  “Nah. I’m not tired. Product of being a house cat. I sleep all of the time. If I’m still human when I get sleepy, I’ll make it up myself.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yeah. I’ll let you get back to sleep. I just wanted to let you know I was human in case you hear me moving around in the house.” I move to get up and head back to the living room.

  “You want to watch some TV with me?” she asks in a tone that suggests that she doesn’t want me to leave. “I’m up. For now at least. I’ll probably fall back to sleep soon, but if you want, you can…”

  “You sure?”

  “Yeah,” she says, handing me the remote as I walk around her bed and lie down beside her. I don’t crawl under the covers with her. I want to, but I don’t think it will be appropriate. “Put it on whatever you want.”

  “Abby, I want you to know that I’m grateful for everything you’ve done for me.”

  “It’s all part of the engrained southern hospitality that runs through my veins,” she says in a near perfect southern belle tone.

  “I don’t think so. I don’t know of another person who would put up with all this.”

  “Oh, there are others out there who would. We are few and far between, but we are out there.”

  I stop on the Syfy channel to watch some B rated alien movie as I settle myself back in the bed, knowing it is her favorite channel.

  I don’t have a clue as to what movie I am watching; I’m too busy watching her out of the corner of my eye. I can’t believe she invited me to lay in the bed with her and watch a movie. I’m betting she only did it because she was too tired to think about what she was saying.

  She rolls over onto her side facing me and her leg slides against mine. A blaze of heat runs up my body at the feel of her. Her bed is only a full; therefore, in her position it is impossible for her to not touch me. My need for her grows as I lay there. It takes all of my self-control not to touch her until I know she was asleep. Only then do I settle myself alongside her. Our bodies barely touching.

  I reach out a hand and move her hair behind her ear in order to see her face better. Anger builds in me as I watch how peaceful she is when she sleeps. I haven’t seen her this at ease in days. I am the cause of all of her anxiety. I need to get out from under this curse soon, so that she can go back to her life.

  -----

  Weeks have passed and most of my shifts have come at night or in very short bursts of time. I wouldn’t let Abby call Sam until I knew I was going to stay human for a long period of time. There is no point in calling her to come if I am just going to change back into a cat as soon as she gets here, I keep telling everyone. My family is growing anxious and impatient, but they understand why I am putting things off. What they don’t know is that I’ve been procrastinating that way I can get to know Abby better.

  Abby’s sister is also beginning to notice a change in her behavior. She’s been able to dodge her sister’s questioning and pushing, but she’s going to have to tell her something soon. She is sleeping in later, because she in
sists that I wake her whenever I shift. I don’t know if she just doesn’t like the idea of some stranger wandering around her house without her or if she doesn’t want me to be alone, not that I am alone. Devan pops in sometimes, and we have our telepathy link, which is steadily growing stronger. I prefer it when she is up though. We spend most nights talking and watching television. She asks a lot of questions about being a shifter and the supernatural world.

  I thought she was going to fall out of the bed when I told her how old I am. I’m technically two hundred and forty years old. Shifters aren’t immortal or anything we just age slowly after puberty. I kind of wish I hadn’t told her my age. Every once in a while she throws out old man jokes that are only slightly annoying but that she thinks are hilarious. When she throws them at Devon, they are hilarious.

  There’s been no sign of Mave. However, I’m sure she knows that I’m spending more and more time human. I keep looking for her to show up but she never does. Devan says she is still M.I.A on their end. Sam’s old coven is doing what they can, but they can’t do too much until she talks to me.

  Chapter 21

  ~~~Abby~~~

  I’m getting way too used to Dimitri being here. I’m letting my guard down too much. I’ve purposely fallen asleep before sending him to the sofa, so that I can sleep in the same bed with him at least for a little while.

  If he isn’t in cat form when I wake, he is on the air mattress in the living room. A time or two I’ve started to tell him that he didn’t have to sleep there anymore, but I’m afraid that he will insist on sleeping in there because he doesn’t want to sleep with me.

  The only reason we end up in my bed most nights is because my bedroom is where the larger flat screen and Blue-ray player are. Before he arrived, I spent most of my television viewing time in the bedroom.

  I am enjoying having him here, to tell the truth. The only problem is that Carrie knows I have a secret. I hate not telling her about Dimitri. She keeps popping up at the house at random times trying to catch me doing something. Luckily, most of those times Dimitri has been in cat form. On the two or three times he hasn’t, he hid himself from her. His ability to shift himself from room to room in a blink of an eye helps with this. I get a kick out this when she has had the kids with her. She sends them off into different parts of the house, looking for him. I’ve found him hiding in the strangest, smallest places. He growls that sexy growl at me when I find him curled in a ball under my bed or the hall closet. I have to laugh, which makes things worse.

  The last time I found him, he was in the corner of the basement hiding behind all of my Christmas decorations. He was sweaty, dusty, and fuming. I promised him then I would do my best to dissuade her from coming over for a while.

  In fact, Carrie and I are having another long phone conversation about my secret at this moment. “Come on Abby; just admit you’ve met a guy. Doug down at the grocery says you’ve been buying beer and more meats than you ever have. I know you aren’t a vegan or anything, but you’ve never been one to eat a lot of meat, and when you do it’s always chicken not beef,” Carrie says a bit harshly.

  “I’m trying out some new recipes. You know, broadening my horizons,” I say even though I know she isn’t buying it.

  “And the beer?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve felt the need to drink lately. My life’s been so disappointing,” I say, trying to sound a little down but not suicidal.

  “That’s no excuse to drink.”

  “I know, and if you ask Doug, he’ll tell you that I’m only buying a six-pack at a time, and it takes me days to drink it. Carrie, I know you’re worried about me, but I’m fine. Really.”

  “Where are you at? Why don’t you come over for a while?” she asks.

  “I’ve just pulled up in my driveway. Why don’t I come over Saturday to see the kids? You do have them this weekend, don’t you?” My sister only has one ex-husband, but he gets the kids so randomly and when he doesn’t have them his parents do, so I never know which weekends she has them and which she doesn’t unless she tells me she is going to have them.

  “Of course. You really think that S.O.B would get them when he isn’t court ordered to? But why can’t you come now?” The plea in her voice is prominent. She thinks if she gets me to herself, she can annoy me to the point that I tell her, and she is probably right.

  “Because I’m tired. I’ve been running errands all day, and I haven’t worked out today.”

  “You look fine. You can forgo that thing for one day,” she says pleadingly.

  “Yes, and that one day will turn into two and two will turn to four and before you know it I’m the Goodyear blimp all over again.”

  “You were never the Goodyear blimp.”

  I grunt in contradiction.

  “Fine. Whatever. Do what you want.”

  “Don’t be a spoiled brat,” I chide, feeling her revert to her annoying, whiny, sixteen year old self.

  “All right. Love you. Call me later.”

  “Love you, too. And I will,” I say, hanging up the phone. Normally, I don’t condone talking on the phone while driving, but when she called just as I was turning onto my street, I put her on speaker, which annoys her because she can’t hear me very well. It was her fault. She kept calling and calling, so finally, I answered.

  I get out of the car and am about to pop the trunk to get my bags out when I remember that I had passed right by my mailbox. I hardly ever get any real mail at my home, but a small O.C.D part of me never lets me go in the house without checking it.

  “Hi there,” a male voice calls from behind me as I am opening the door to my box. I spin around to see a scraggly looking man in his mid-thirties crossing the road toward me.

  “Can I help you?” I ask wearily.

  “Are you Abby Sinclair?” he asks, as if he knows that it is my name. I instantly dislike the tone of his voice—a tone that suggests something bad is about to happen to me.

  “Who’s asking?”

  “I am,” he says, smiling and showing his canines. He probably thinks I don’t know about weres and don’t know that his teeth are a dead giveaway as to what he is.

  “And you are?” I ask, fisting the wad of junk mail.

  “A friend of a friend so to speak.”

  “Sorry, I’m not Abby, but I will give her a message if you want to leave one.” I close the mailbox and take a step back away from the box, the road, and the unknown man.

  “You’re getting Abby’s mail,” he says, looking at the address number on the box.

  “I didn’t say I didn’t know her. I said I wasn’t her.”

  He inches his way closer to me as I inch my way back up my drive.

  “That’s enough. I’m not playing this game with you. We both know who you are,” he snaps.

  Chapter 22

  ~~~Dimitri~~~

  “Abby... Abby...run,” I try to scream at her, but it is obvious she can’t hear me, and she doesn’t move. I knew the man for what he was the moment he stepped onto the pavement from the other side of the road. His scent is mild, but unmistakable. If I hadn’t been in the window watching, waiting for her to return, I wouldn’t have noticed or smelled him.

  What is a were doing here? What does he want with Abby? I can do nothing but watch her turn to the man, then gradually step away from him. Good girl. He can’t come into the house. At least I don’t think he can, so come inside. I’ll get the rest of your things later.

  My body begins to tremble lightly, as she moves further and further up the drive with the were close on her heals. “Come on. Come on. Shift already,” I beg my body.

  The instant I see the were leap at her, I fall off the edge of the window and shift into my human form. I don’t see her make a run for the door, but instinctively, as I rise to my human legs, I use my powers to unlock and open the door slightly so that she will not have to stop for her keys.

  I am at the door when she wrenches it the rest of the way open and stumbles inside, tears rolling dow
n her cheeks. I sling her behind me and come eye to eye with the were. He grins a mouth full of razor sharp teeth and runs off.

  Slamming the door, I spin to catch Abby as she slides to the ground. At first, I think she has fainted.

  “I’m fine. My legs just feel like Jell-O,” she says apologetically.

  “You’re in shock.” I all but carry her to the sofa before going into the kitchen to get her something to drink.

  When I come back, I find her looking deeply through the fingers of a bloody hand.

  “I think he scratched me.” The words come out of her in a tremble. I set the drink down on the table and take the hand from her to examine it, but see nothing but the blood.

  “It’s not my hand. It’s my arm.” She holds out her other arm to show me a long gash that runs down her forearm.

  “You’re going to need stitches.” I mentally call for my mother, our in-house nurse, to come with medical supplies. “You’re going to be fine. How did he do this?”

  “I don’t know. He told me he knew who I was. Whom I was keeping in my house. Told me that I couldn’t hide you forever. That she was going to kill you one way or another. He said I didn’t have to die, but I would if I kept you away from her. Then he started to hit on me, but not in a normal way. He kept eyeing me, telling me he might ask for me as a consolation prize for bringing you back to her. There was something about land in there also. I sort of tuned him out and pretended not to know what he was talking about.

  “I was so scared. I’m so sorry. I wasn’t brave. I didn’t talk shit like they do in the movies. I just ran, and he grabbed for me. I...” She begins to cry, and I pull her into my arms. Despite the fact that she has blood on both arms, and I can feel her smearing it onto my back, I relish in the feel of her arms around me.

  “I won’t give you to her,” she sobs. “I promise. I’ll fight next time.”