by Zoe Chant
Jenny stared. Was that why she was having so much trouble? She had been so sure about the path of her life. She was going to be the best lawyer, the best sister.
Now, here she was, unsure of everything, right down to the shape of her body and the direction of her heart. Her sister was better than her, at everything, and Jenny was unexpectedly the one falling apart.
“Believe me, darling,” Magnolia was saying, “I grew up on a very different island than this, and thought my life would play out in a very different way. But I chose differently, and haven’t looked back, and you’ll figure out the best path for yourself, too.”
Without revulsion, Magnolia picked up one of Jenny’s misshapen hands. “You may not be used to all the new features, but don’t forget for a moment that you are the beautiful sum all your parts.”
Jenny wished she had a fraction of the confidence the big woman exuded. “Thank you,” she said genuinely. She couldn’t consider the claws or the webbing beautiful, but she tried to remember that becoming an otter had saved her life.
“Oh honey,” the big woman said cheerfully, “You are as welcome as the dawn! Now, it’s been two weeks since I had one of Tex’s margarita’s, and that is two weeks too many.” She heaved to her feet, tucking the silk Jenny had cried on back into her big orange beach bag.
“Jenny! Oh, Magnolia, you’re back!”
Jenny turned at Gizelle’s cheerful call.
“Gizelle, honey!” Magnolia opened her arms, and Gizelle darted in and gave her a swift hug. “You’re getting brave, darling,” Magnolia told her proudly.
“There were so many people,” Gizelle told her frankly. “It was noisy and smelly while you were gone. But I didn’t break anything and I only shifted…” she counted silently on her fingers until she ran out.
“That’s excellent,” Magnolia told her before she could finish. From anyone else it might have sounded patronizing, but Jenny felt like it was genuine and gracious. “And you’ve met Jenny.”
“She’s a twin,” Gizelle said, as if Jenny wasn’t standing right there. “I’m helping her. She needs it.”
“That’s lovely of you, sugar,” Magnolia said with an amused sideways look at Jenny.
Jenny wasn’t sure if she should feel insulted or not, but decided she mostly felt touched by Gizelle’s attention and Magnolia’s kindness.
Gizelle took Jenny’s hand, not appearing to notice Jenny’s reluctance to give it to her. She didn’t flinch at the claws or webbing. “I want to practice shifting with you before dinner,” she said commandingly. “I’m good at it.”
“You enjoy that,” Magnolia said with a wave over her shoulder. “I’m off to the pool deck for the rest of the afternoon! I’ve missed the sunshine!”
Jenny let Gizelle lead her in the opposite direction. Perhaps shifting would take her mind off of the memory of Travis’ heartbroken face while she decided what she was going to do about him.
It’s not what we’re going to do about him, her otter told her slyly. It’s what we’re going to do with him.
Chapter 9
In the wake of Jenny’s stormy exit, Travis bent down slowly and picked up the chair she had toppled over. He put it carefully back in place on its feet, keenly aware of the presence of Tex and Laura, and the absence of his mate.
“Well,” Tex said, full of false cheer, “that didn’t go quite the way I expected it to.”
“I’m sorry,” Laura said, more sincerely. “She’s going through a lot right now, of course.”
“Of course,” Travis agreed numbly. Lynx was pacing miserably in his head.
There was a moment of awkward silence, broken by the arrival of Graham, the lion shifter in charge of the grounds. It was odd that his entrance was the loudest thing in the room; he was as quiet as always.
Graham cleared his throat, looking from one uncomfortable person to another. “Storm hitting in a few days. Scarlet’s got me shuttering the cottages that aren’t being used,” he said gruffly. “Said Travis might have some thoughts on electrical things that need extra protection.”
“I’ll come with you,” Travis said, glad for the distraction. He picked up his toolbox and went for the stairs down. “Start at the bottom and work up?”
Graham gave one last suspicious look at Tex and Laura, then shrugged and answered by following Travis, his machete over a shoulder.
Graham was exactly the company Travis would have chosen for this task; he kept conversation to exactly what was necessary and no more.
The cottages were not built for strong winds; such weather rarely came to the island. Graham and Travis moved all the outdoor furniture and decoration into each cottage and made sure every door and window was latched securely, moving anything fragile back from windows that might get blown out.
Travis turned off the meters at each cottage, so no power would be running through them, and had Graham help him pull down a few solar panels in more precarious positions. He checked outdoor lights for stability, and screwed a few fixtures in more tightly.
Graham scanned the greenery as well, and judiciously took down branches overhanging the cottages that looked like they were a breakage risk.
Travis thought he muttered as he made every cut, and as they left the last cottage, asked curiously, “How’d you end up here, Graham?”
Graham had been the only other employee at Shifting Sands when Travis had started, though it hadn’t been long before Bastian and Breck had been hired. A series of cooks had been fired in short succession before Chef arrived with Magnolia. Getting her to stay on as a long-term resident had been a coup for the kitchen, because Chef wouldn't have stayed without her, and he had proved to be a genius at food preparation, earning his nickname within a week.
Graham was quiet so long that Travis had stopped expecting an answer. Then the gardener finally shrugged and volunteered, “Got a letter from Scarlet. Seemed like a better option than any of my others.” He didn’t elaborate about those previous options, but Travis wondered, as he had several times before, if there was a slight British accent to his words; he didn’t sound entirely American.
“You?”
Graham’s query was a surprise. He rarely pursued conversation, if he could be coaxed into it at all.
“Grew up in a native village in the middle of nowhere, Alaska,” Travis said briefly. “Went to the city to get my certifications, but cities don’t really suit me. I saw an employment ad in an underground shifter magazine I subscribed to and it sounded like a nice change of pace. I sent a resume, and got a letter back inviting me out. It was supposed to be temporary, but Scarlet never ran out of work, and I honestly can’t imagine living somewhere else now.”
Could he? Jenny must have had a life established in California, maybe she was planning to return to it.
We would follow her, Lynx assured him, even though they both shuddered at the idea of a crowded Californian city.
Graham grunted, slicing down an overhanging branch efficiently and hauling it back out of the way into the hedge. Travis knew that their brief moment of conversation had ended. He finished the last power disconnect, and double-checked the latch on the door.
Whatever the storm brought the next evening, Travis was fairly certain that the resort was ready for it.
Whatever his mate brought, he’d be ready for that, as well.
Chapter 10
Jenny wondered if Gizelle had forgotten about her. The tiny woman had demonstrated a shift into her gazelle form, then wandered away to nibble on the grass without a backwards glance. Currently, she was grazing earnestly across the little lawn where they had been meeting every day, ostensibly for Jenny to practice shifting.
Most days, Gizelle had Jenny shift several times, repeating her advice about thinking as the form she was aiming for, not about the form she was aiming for. Jenny’s shifts had grown less painful, but she still dreaded them, and she was still never fully human.
This time, her fingers had no webbing, but the short, no-nonsense claws at
the ends pressed little divets into her palms when she clenched her fists.
Jenny sighed and lay back in the prickly grass, looking up into sky. It was blue and clear, and the sun beat down with even more strength than the Californian sun. There wasn’t the slightest hint of a breeze, and the early afternoon was sweltering. Jenny fanned the bottom of her sundress to cool her sweaty legs. Maybe she should bring a lawn chair out with her next time; the grass prickled distractingly at her skin, making her think of her otter’s coarse fur.
She wondered if lynx fur was softer, and suspected it was. Laura had told her everything she knew about Travis, without Jenny asking. Her sister was clearly more excited about her mate than Jenny was, and seemed puzzled that Jenny as still trying to avoid him.
It wasn’t that she didn’t want him; she couldn’t sleep at night without imagining him beside her. She fantasized about touching his golden-brown skin, running fingers through his short, thick hair, had to try to keep her mind from wandering to still dirtier topics.
Abruptly, there was a big deer-like face right above her, blocking the sunlight. Spiraled horns curving dangerously back from between her bell-like ears.
Gizelle snuffled at her, then shifted like mercury into her human form, crouching beside Jenny. “Are you napping?” She was so close that her long, wild hair tickled Jenny, and she didn’t move back much when Jenny sat upright. She had an odd sense of personal space, Jenny had found, sometimes so close that it was uncomfortable, sometimes keeping so much space between them that conversation was awkward.
“No, I’m not napping,” Jenny assured her, though she’d been comfortable enough that she might have.
“Oh good! Let’s practice!”
Gizelle jumped to her feet in one fluid move, while Jenny stood up more carefully.
“Go!” Gizelle commanded, startling Jenny.
She shifted obediently, braced for the discomfort, and a few moments later was shaking off the last of the pain and scampering on four small feet in grass that suddenly seemed very tall.
A fleet-footed gazelle danced easily with her, leaping high into the air, then stomped an imperious foot and was standing as a human.
Jenny drew a deep breath into her capable otter lungs and tried to keep Gizelle’s advice in mind. She thought about what it was like to be a human, how much taller she was, focusing on fingers without webbing or claws. She remembered what it was like to type on a computer keyboard, how long and nimble her hands could be. She ignored her otter, who scoffed and protested that otter fingers were just as clever.
Then she was panting with the effort and looking in triumph at her fingers.
They were her fingers again, free from each other and with her old familiar short fingernails.
“I did it,” Jenny gasped, feeling exhausted with the effort. “I did it!”
Gizelle was looking at her curiously. “I… suppose,” she said reluctantly.
“I feel like I ran a marathon,” Jenny confessed, feeling a little deflated by Gizelle’s lack of enthusiasm.
“It shouldn’t be that hard,” Gizelle said. “Can’t you feel the power around you to shift with?”
“Power?”
Gizelle put on what Jenny was recognizing as her teacher face. “It takes energy to shift, of course. But it shouldn’t have to come from your own reserves. There is power all around you to draw on, just reach out and use it whenever you need. You should only have to focus.”
Was that a feature of all places, Jenny wondered, or just this particular strange island?
Gizelle continued, her expression growing distant and her voice taking on a sing-song tone. “There are wells of power that make the sunless sky, and they can make prison walls or set you free with the right key. Drink it down and you can taste the future and touch the chains that hold the world together…”
Jenny watched her with concern. “Gizelle?” She asked tentatively, hoping to distract her from the trance she was in.
Gizelle ignored her. “Voices of power. Spells set in violence and chaos. Prisons. Things that shouldn’t be disturbed…”
Sometimes Gizelle seemed normal enough that it was easy to forget that she had spent many of her formative years imprisoned and forced to remain in her animal form. And then there were these fugue states, when she ceased to make sense. It was hypnotic, sometimes more than just figuratively. Jenny reached up to pinch her neck and keep from falling into the spell with her.
The side of her face exploded in sensation, and Jenny flinched away in alarm and surprise, yelping out loud.
“What?” Gizelle asked, puzzled, but back in reality with her.
Jenny reached a cautious hand up towards her face. “I felt… something.”
Stiff, flexible fibers met her fingertips, and the barest brush sent a battery of sensory input to her face.
“Whiskers?!” Jenny shrieked. “I have whiskers!”
These weren’t a grandmother’s mustache-like whiskers, they were inches-long, and bristled out from her face like quivering array of antennae.
Gizelle looked dismissive. “They look lovely,” she promised, but Jenny could picture what she looked like quite clearly and knew better.
In her head, her otter was holding her sides and rolling with laughter.
Jenny gritted her teeth. “Let’s practice some more,” she ground out, even though she was still tired from the last shift.
Gizelle shrugged, obviously mystified by her discomfort. “We can do it some more,” she agreed.
“Until I’m me,” Jenny declared. “Just me.”
Good luck with that, her otter teased.
Chapter 11
“Want something stronger in your orange juice?” Tex offered. He was hauling trash bags in one hand and a milkcrate stuffed with gathered glass bottles in the other.
The bar was empty and Travis was alone. Only two guests were in sight, both of them on the pool deck below.
Magnolia was lounging on one of the chairs by the pool, soaking up the last rays of the late afternoon sun, a margarita in hand.
The other guest was a thickly built man with short-cropped dark hair who looked uncomfortable lounging in his deck chair. He wore mirrored sunglasses and was reading a paperback novel. A bottle of water was gathering condensation on the table next to him.
Travis considered the drink Tex was offering, but finally shook his head. He had a feeling that if he started drinking, he wasn’t going to want to stop. His heart hurt for his bewildered mate, and Lynx was yowling and pacing inside of him.
He settled for saying, “Nah.”
Tex shrugged. “Suit yourself!” He returned to cleaning and emptying bins.
Travis couldn’t get Jenny’s face out of his head, and the lost, frightened look made him ball his hands into fists and want to fight something. But there was nothing to fight, and she didn’t want his help. She had successfully evaded him for several days now.
There was nothing critical left to fix. The resort was as ready for the storm coming as he could make it. Everything was running perfectly smoothly. Even the heaps of laundry had finally been finished, and the big machines were still again.
When he looked up and saw Scarlet walking up from the pool deck, it seemed like perfect timing.
“What do you need?” he asked too eagerly. “What’s next on the renovation schedule?”
Scarlet frowned at him. “You’ve done a lot of work these last few weeks, you do deserve some time off.”
Travis frowned back, trying to figure out how to explain that he needed something to keep his hands busy while his newly-a-shifter mate decided what to do with him. Scarlet wouldn’t appreciate an emotional confession or a rambling story about mistaken identity, and she wasn’t the sort of person who invited intimacy.
Finally, he stuck with the simplest answer. “I don’t really want any time off.”
Scarlet gave him an appraising look and went to the bar. She came back to his table with one of the resort brochures. “We’re going to
have to get these updated with cottage numbers on the ones we put back into service,” she said thoughtfully, spreading it out between them. “And we’ll take the whale watching note off until we can get another boat.”
Travis leaned over the colorful map. “Cottage five could use an upgraded kitchen and new bathroom.”
Scarlet made a discouraging noise. “As busy as we were last week, we are not rolling in money. We have a boat that the insurance doesn’t want to replace, we lost an entire shipment of groceries, and the air conditioner in the hotel was supposed to be a priority.” She didn’t have to add that several of the months before that had been in the red as the resort hosted dozens of refugees from a lunatic’s shifter zoo on the other side of the island.
“What about the deck at cottage twelve?” Travis suggested, tapping it on the map. “It’s got enough rotten decking to be a hazard as it is now, and we’ve got a bunch of treated lumber leftover from our last deck job. It should be enough to redo it.”
Scarlet nodded. “That’s an excellent plan.”
“There’s enough spare tile left to retile the bathroom in cottage five, even if we don’t put in new fixtures,” Travis suggested, knowing that the deck would only be a morning’s worth of work.
“Let’s do that, too,” Scarlet agreed. “Be aware that there is a storm due to hit the island tomorrow evening. We almost never get hurricanes this far south, but it’s still a category three and doesn’t appear to be slowing down like usual. We should shutter up the cottages that aren’t in use, and we should be prepared to stage repairs afterwards.”
Travis nodded. “Already done. Bastian told me about the storm this morning, so I made sure all the cottages not occupied got shuttered and we’ve got some spare roof tile if we need it afterwards.”
Scarlet looked pleased, with a slight, approving smile and a nod. “Excellent. We won’t have many guests to worry about--”