Shifting Fates (Urban Fantasy Shifter Romance Book One)

by Aubrey Rose

  “No, silly, you don’t marry anyone,” Kit says, bringing out another doll that I suppose is meant to represent me, long black streaks of hair drawn down the paper. “You’re the queen.”

  “So I rule the kingdom?”

  My mouth still has a smile on it, but Kit’s answer has pierced me deeper than I thought such a small barb could pierce. She didn’t mean it, I say to myself. Of course she didn’t mean it. It still hurts.

  “Yes. You rule everything. You’re the queen.”

  “Well, if I rule the kingdom, I decree that we are eating Christmas dinner right NOW!”

  Kit squeals and runs to the table to set out the cloth napkins and scavenged silverware. She places the settings carefully around the wooden circle. Nim sets out the water glasses while Lily and Logan spoon out portions of the ham and vegetables, and in ten seconds we’re all sitting around the low table, ready to eat.

  I take Kit’s hand on one side and Lily’s on the other, and then we’re holding hands around the meal that smells better than anything we’ve eaten in the past year.

  “Thank you, Lily and Logan, for preparing this wonderful dinner for us,” I say. “Thank you to Nimrah for getting the gas for the stove. Thank you to Kit for the beautiful lights.”

  “Thank you to YOU for getting us food,” Kit says.

  “Thank you all for another year together,” I finish. “I love you all.”

  “Love you all,” Kit says.

  “Love you all,” Lily and Logan say together.

  “Love you all,” Nim says, and he’s looking straight into my eyes when he says it.

  His black eyes are too dark for me to understand. Pensive, desirous maybe. I picture his body, strong and naked, the way it is after he shifts. Something catches in my throat and I cough to get rid of it. I know what he wants me to think, and I don’t want to think it.

  The others fall to, digging into the hearty dinner, but Nim waits a moment before picking up his fork. My eyes move to my plate and I begin to eat.

  “Delicious ham,” I say, after the first bite. “Perfect!”

  “I want ham every dinner,” Kit says, shoving a fork of steaming meat into her cheek and talking all the while. “I want a ham as big as my whole plate!”

  “I could eat a ham as big as this table,” Logan says.

  “Remember how we got this table?” Lily said. “Nimrah was the one who found it.” She is cutting her ham delicately into little pieces with her knife. I don’t think she’s had a bite yet.

  “I remember!” Kit scoots forward in her chair so that she’s sitting on the edge. “I remember! I remember Nim fell into a big puddle of poop!”

  Lily’s face turns bright red, but Logan and Kit burst into bright peals of laughter. Nim leans back in his chair, a half-grin on his face. He’d lost the big wooden spool coming down the subway track as he rolled it down a slight slope. It had wobbled and dipped as it balanced on the subway track, and Nim had tried to catch it before it rolled forward into the sewage puddle ahead of them.

  Of course, the spool had caught on one of the train ties and Nim had flown straight over it, landing headfirst in the muck.

  “I would have caught it too, if you hadn’t been screaming at me so much not to fall in,” Nim says.

  “I was trying to help,” Kit says.

  “Hey Kit,” Logan says. “If I’m ever in a fight with a bear, help the bear.”

  Kit scrunches her face up for a second before she gets the joke, and then she falls off of her chair in a fake agony of embarrassment. Then she scrambles back up and quickly goes back to eating.

  “I was only little,” she says, twitching her freckled nose and taking another huge bite of potatoes.

  “You’re pretty damn little now,” Lily says.

  “Lily, don’t swear in front of Kit,” I say half-heartedly.

  “I am not little! I’m eight! I was only seven and a half then!” Kit pouts for a moment, and then her face breaks out into a huge grin. “Nim smelled so much like POOP!”

  “Stop talking about poop!” Lily cries. “It’s dinner time!”

  “Hush,” I say, becoming aware of how loud we’re getting. “We shouldn’t shout here.”

  “Hush,” Lily repeats. “It’s dangerous.”

  “It’s okay,” Logan says. “Besides, we’d see the lamp flash if there was anything coming near us.”

  “Is it still plugged in?” Nim asks, frowning suddenly. “I thought we unplugged it from the extension cord. When we were testing the Christmas lights.”

  Logan blinks.

  “Oh, I guess we did unplug the cord, didn’t we? Lily, plug the cord back in,” he says.

  “Say please,” she says.

  “Pretty please with a dingleberry on top.”

  “Gross!” Lily crosses her arms.

  Nim leans over and plugs the lamp into the extension cord. It flashes once, and everyone goes silent.

  Kit’s eyes go wide and she brings the back of her hand to her mouth.

  “Do you think—”

  Another flash.

  “Shh,” I say, and the air could shatter like crystal around us now, that’s how tense we are. The lamp is flashing, flashing. Kit sucks her pinky finger in terror. I can tell she’s trying not to whimper or give us away.

  We’re all sitting completely still around the table when we hear the footsteps. They’re not overhead, though.

  “They’re in the tunnel,” Nim mouths to me. I lean over and pull the plug from the generator. The Christmas lights turn off. The lamp is flashing like crazy. Logan’s sensors work, alright. I only hope they weren’t too late.

  Then Nim pulls the lamp plug out of the extension cord, and we’re all plunged into darkness.

  In the dark, I feel Kit take my hand. I reach out and grab Lily’s, and then we’re all moving backwards together, toward the ladder that will be our emergency exit if we need it. If they come in. I pray they don’t come in.

  Normally we have time to move the furniture around, make the small enclave look uninhabited. Now, though, there are half-full pots of leftover food on the table. The stove is hot. There’s no way they could miss us, if they looked in through the door.

  The unlocked door. Damn. I shake my head. We can’t risk locking it – the noise would give us away.

  The steps are louder now, and I can make out at least three separate pairs of footsteps. Three guards. We could fight them, if we have the advantage of surprise. Or we could run.

  The dim sweep of their flashlight comes in through the cracks of the entrance door. I look up, and although my eyes are already adjusting to the dark, I cannot see half as well as if I were in wolf form. In the dimness, I can only barely make out the ladder rungs.

  The ladder goes up to an abandoned playground that people have been using as a dump yard, and our emergency exit is well-hidden under several layers of trash and junk. It’s unlikely that soldiers will be patrolling up there.

  Of course, it’s unlikely for soldiers to be patrolling in the tunnels, and here they are. I can hear their steps coming closer, the hard soles of their boots clicking on the damp stone. If we try to escape, that would mean pushing open the ladder entrance, and that will be louder than any talking or laughter. And they would still be chasing us. We might escape, but then we’d have to find another den to live in.

  I hope that they walk right past the side tunnel. I hope they never find our den.

  Kit is breathing fast, and in my hand I can feel her claws beginning to extend and retract in pulses. I pull her to my chest and kiss her on the top of the head. If we have to run, she’ll be the first up the ladder.

  The footsteps pause outside of the entrance, the flashlights swinging around and lingering on the door to our den. I hear Nim next to me shifting into panther form. He is breathing fast, too. I can hear it. I bow my head and prepare to shift if I have to.

  I hate shifting. Well, no, that’s not the right word. I like being a wolf. I like having strong legs, being able to
run. But down in these tunnels, there’s nowhere to run, and since I don’t do it very often, it hurts more.

  Kit’s heartbeat is so loud I can hear it in my ears. Maybe it’s my heartbeat. I can’t tell.

  The steps continue on.

  I exhale. It’s a minute before we are sure they’re gone entirely. I let go of Kit’s hand and go to plug in the Christmas lights. They don’t look quite as colorful as they did before.

  Logan plugs in the warning lamp. It’s stopped flashing.

  We’re safe. I breathe in again, then out, regaining my composure.

  “Are they gone?” Kit asks.

  “They’re gone,” I say. Maybe another patrol will come, but for now we’re safe.

  We finish dinner, but our conversation is hushed and careful. After dinner, I bring out the bar of chocolate.

  “I knew it was the present! I smelled it!” Kit cries softly. “I smelled it when we were in the tunnel.”

  “There’s another present for you yet,” I say, kissing the top of her red frizzed head. “This is dessert.”

  “Another present?” Kit asks. The only remainder of the chocolate is smeared around the outside of her lips.

  “Oh, I love chocolate!” Lily says. She inhales the scent of the chocolate deeply before taking a bite. We eat together, but nobody else says a word, too busy enjoying the luxury of the sweet dessert.

  We go to bed early, and I pull my curtain closed around my cot before tucking myself in. It’s been a long day. Dead tired, I’m about to fall asleep when I feel a small hand tugging at my arm.

  “What is it, Kit?”

  “Can I sleep with you, Bindi?” she whispers. “I’m scared of the soldiers.”

  “Of course,” I say. She shifts, her over-large sweater falling to the floor as she changes into fox form. Quick as anything, she hops into my cot, curling up against me. She whimpers a bit, and I stroke her soft red fur.

  “Don’t worry, Kit,” I murmur. “They won’t come back tonight. You’re safe.”

  I pet her behind the ears until she’s breathing deeply and regularly, her whiskers twitching slightly. I hope her dreams aren’t about patrol guards. I hope she’s dreaming about princes and princesses. I think about what she said: You don’t marry anyone.

  I’ll be twenty years old tomorrow, and I’ve never even kissed a boy. Maybe Kit is right. Maybe I won’t ever marry anyone. Maybe I won’t ever kiss anyone. Or fall in love. A thin chill washes through me, and I pull the blanket in tighter, up to my chin.

  “I will fall in love,” I whisper to myself. “I will kiss a boy someday.”

  I’m thinking of Nimrah when I say it. It should be him, when he’s grown, anyway. It just makes sense. He’s probably the last shifter left in New York City that’s even close to my age. The other shifters I’ve met… well, most of them deserve to be called monsters. Nim is different.

  But when I close my eyes, I don’t think of Nim. The face that flashes into my mind is that of the patrol guard, his golden hair shining under the topside lights of the Laz. His is the face that haunts my dreams tonight.

  Chapter Four

  Cage

  The six soldiers approach, three on each side of the long, black box, marching in perfect unison. The red and white stripes of the flag—Ben’s flag—stand out in sharp contrast against the gleaming black wood.

  Mother stands as still as a stone, not even blinking as they come closer and closer. She hasn’t said a word since we arrived—not that there’s anyone else to speak to. Even though the whole town’s here today, it still feels as if they’re a world away. In my mind, it’s just us, my brother Ben and the minister.

  And… and Ben’s gone now. That’s his coffin they’re marching slowly toward the deep hole we dug for him. That’s his flag—soon to be Mother’s flag—and in about ten minutes, it’s all that’ll be left of her oldest son.

  He always said he’d come back for me after he’d served his term, but this ain’t quite how I envisioned it.

  The coffin reaches the grave and the minister starts saying something. I can’t hear a word he’s saying, though… it all flies in one ear and straight out the other as my brain spins in place. The reality ain’t set in yet for me, but I know it’s going to hurt like hell when it finally does.

  Mother still hasn’t moved a muscle and she’s clenching her hand so tightly around mine that my fingers are going numb.

  The minister’s words are nothing but white noise now, wind rustling the grass as the soldiers slowly fold the flag. Ben’s flag. He ain’t coming back, Cage. He ain’t coming back…

  “Sorry about your brother, Cage,” whispers a boy behind me named Todd. I don’t answer him. I can’t.

  Todd’s sixteen, I think—he’s a year behind me in school, or at least he used to be. He used to work the tourist circuit with me every summer. We lugged downstate tourists’ whitewater rafts and kayaks for miles on our backs along the river until the coal mine offered him a job last winter. He took the coal job and dropped out of high school, just like most everyone does around here.

  Ben refused to let me take a mining job; he said it was too dangerous and that my job was to keep my grades up. Then I could get the hell out of Ontonwa Falls forever.

  “How’d he get killed anyway?” whispers someone else from either a million miles away or maybe right next to me. I feel like everything’s spinning.

  “They say it was monsters,” whispers someone else. “The City’s full of them now, and they ripped him to pieces or something. That’s why they ain’t done an open casket for him, ya know?”

  I want to block out all the whispers and listen to my brother’s last rites, but somehow, the only person I can’t hear is the minister. It’s as if my brain’s inviting in every voice but his, letting each and every little rumor float into my head and stain Ben’s memory.

  “No way,” titters someone else from off to my right. “It’s a closed casket because Ben ain’t got no skin anymore. The shifters wear their victims’ skin to hide themselves during the day.”

  That last one doesn’t even make sense to me, but now I can’t block out the image of wolves tearing my brother to shreds, slowly peeling back his face while he screams in agony. A nearly uncontrollable urge builds up inside me to spin around and punch every last one of these stupid fuckers in the teeth until they shut up, until they run for the hills and leave me and my brother alone. I can’t do it, though—I’m pretty sure that I’m the only thing keeping Mother from fainting right now.

  “And into your hands, oh merciful God, we commend your servant Ben,” continues the minister. “Accept into your arms a lamb of your own flock…”

  A lamb torn apart by the wolves—slaughtered for nothing, not even devoured…

  One of the soldiers hands my mother the flag while the others lower Ben into the ground, and as Mother lets go of my hand, something breaks inside me. I had the whole thing backward—she’s all that was keeping me standing. A strange panic rises like bile into to my throat as the black box sinks lower and lower, and I drop to my knees beside the grave as ‘Taps’ starts playing somewhere above me.

  Ben’s all I had left and I couldn’t even keep him.

  The buzzing in my head grows stronger and stronger until it drowns out the bugle, and my vision narrows until all I can see is Ben’s gleaming black coffin and the clumps of dirt raining down on it scoop by scoop.

  I’ll kill all of them. I’m going down to that city and killing every last fucking one of them…

  The first of three honorary volleys fires off in the distance, and tears blur my vision as reality finally sinks in. Ben’s gone forever, and everything we’d planned was for nothing. I was going to finish school and then we were gonna skip town together after his tour was up. He was saving up to start a business and I was going to help him with it.

  It’s bad enough Ben’s gone, but why’d they have to bury him here? He hated this town and now he’ll never escape.

  Mother’s hand presses gen
tly on my shoulder as I stare down into the hole, but she’s not helping. I can’t breathe. I feel as if I’m going to suffocate as the dirt finally covers my brother and—

  —and somewhere in the back of my mind, I suddenly realize I’m reliving the nightmare. I’m smothering myself with my pillow again.

  I wake up on my cot and gasp for air as the nightmare fades around me. No matter how many times I relive Ben’s funeral, the pain never lessens—it’s still as real as the day they brought his remains home. I close my eyes and lie in the darkness, listening to the soft, somehow calming sounds of the soldiers—my new family—sleeping around me. My pulse slows to normal, but there ain’t no way I’m getting back to sleep now. The sheets are completely soaked with sweat and cling to my skin with every movement, and I feel like I could use either fresh air or a stiff drink.

  I climb out of bed and throw on my fatigues, and then I tiptoe down the long line of cots. The red glare of the digital clock above the door burns 04:40 into my retinas the entire way. Out in the lounge, the grunt on night watch is lying on the couch with his feet up on the armrest. He snaps to attention and salutes, trying to pretend he wasn’t just dicking around with a comic book. I return an exhausted salute. I’d chew him out on any other day, but I’m too tired right now to care. Instead, I keep going straight past him, past our makeshift mess-hall in what was once an executive break room, and out into the stairwell.

  If there’s one thing that’ll wake anyone up, it’s climbing fifteen flights of stairs. I sure as hell ain’t enjoying it, but by the time I’ve huffed and puffed all the way up to the roof access door, my head’s as clear as ever. The rusty hinges squeal in protest as I shove the door open, and I slip out into the cold morning air.

  I may be a bit of a country boy at heart, but I’ll tell you one thing: I’m never gonna get tired of the view from up here. The city feels like it goes on forever, a speckled checkerboard of light and dark thanks to limited electricity. If it wasn’t for the winter haze, you could probably see Ground Zero from up here, the deep, black-charred hole where the first bombs struck. Tonight, though, the city just fades to a deep, midnight blue on the horizon.