I grabbed blindly for another knife, but it just made me feel sicker, so I threw it toward the tree without thinking. It missed the target by ten feet and sailed off in the wrong direction.
“Shit,” I muttered.
“Is everything okay?” Adrian inquired. “You seem distracted.”
“I’m fine. This has never happened before. I just need a minute.” I pressed my palms into my eyes, took deep breaths, and counted to ten. It was what my sister and I had learned to do when memories of our parents became too overwhelming. I slowly removed my palms from my eyes and found Adrian in front of me, scrutinizing me carefully.
“You’re not fine,” he concluded. “You can tell me, you know. I wish you would trust me.”
“I do trust you,” I blurted almost too quickly. “But, I’m messed up and I have a lot to deal with, and I don’t want you to have to deal with any of this.”
Adrian’s eyes softened. “You’re not messed up,” he emphasized slowly. “You may be complicated, but you’re not messed up. And don’t worry about what I can and can’t deal with.”
I forced myself to laugh a little. It rattled like broken glass in my throat. “Okay, but let me know when things start getting too much for you. You know how I told you my parents died?”
Adrian nodded. “Yes, I remember you told me your mother died.”
“She and my father died in New York earlier this year. They’re journalists, you see – or they were – and they were doing a month-long project on the homeless population in New York City, or something.”
Adrian’s brow furrowed and he seemed to turn a shade paler, but he didn’t interrupt.
“Anyway, they were murdered – stabbed to death by a crazy psychopath who was probably homeless and will probably never be caught.” I closed my eyes to keep the stinging tears from leaking out. “It’s been a lot to deal with.”
“That’s why you’ve been having trouble with the knives,” Adrian murmured.
“Probably, yeah.”
“Do you have any pictures of them? Your parents, I mean.”
It was an odd question to ask, but I didn’t say anything. “Yeah, actually, I think I do.” I got my phone out of my pocket and navigated to the back of my photo album. I hadn’t cleared it since they had died. “Here.”
Adrian took the phone from my hand and stared at the picture of my parents and Heather. I had taken it that summer when we were hiking – it was the last picture I had taken of them, I realized.
Adrian wordlessly handed the phone back to me. He looked shaken. What I had told him must have really affected him. I was afraid the family tragedy would have been too much for him to handle, and I instantly regretted telling him.
“We’re all doing better now, though. Matt – my brother – was able to get a book deal through my parents’ company. I think it was because they felt guilty that my parents had died on a business trip. But at least that means Matt can stay with us now. Dylan’s really been helping too,” I said, trying to change topics.
“Has he?” Now Adrian seemed distracted.
“Yeah, I’ve known him since we were kids. Our families were really close. I think of him like another brother.”
“A brother?” Adrian repeated.
“Of course. What did you think?”
“Nothing. It’s just, people have been saying – you know what, it doesn’t matter. You should probably go home, take some time to recover.”
“No!” I objected much too adamantly. “I want to stay,” I said in a calmer voice. “Please.”
Adrian looked me up and down carefully, as if to assess what I would be capable of. “Alright, but no more knives for today. Arisella’s probably returned from her patrol by now, so she will help you with the change.”
I frowned. I wasn’t quite so sure I wanted to stay anymore.
“But I’ll be watching, so don’t worry. I’ll keep Arisella from hurting you.”
The sliding glass door opened and Arisella stuck her head out. “I heard my name?”
“You’re up,” Adrian announced, directing his attention toward his sister. “But you’re only working on the change, that’s it. No knives. No hand-to-hand combat.”
“Where’s the fun in that?” Arisella whined in disappointment.
“I’m serious,” Adrian growled at his sister. He sat down on the grass by the tree and stared off into the distance. He seemed to be lost in thought. Hopefully not too lost. I did need him to watch Arisella.
“Okay, I’ll teach you how to change,” Arisella sighed. She glided directly in front of me, so that I was staring straight into her eyes, and I couldn’t look away. “But we’re going to take it slow, so tell me if you get tired or if you start feeling sick.”
My lips tilted upwards. “Showing me mercy, for once?”
“Just empathy,” she said without emotion. “Now, tell me what you were doing every time you changed.”
“Wha-?” I stumbled, taken aback by her sudden seriousness. She rolled her eyes impatiently. “Um, the first time I was attacked by a caecus, the second I was attacked by you, and the third – well, I didn’t actually change a third time. I thought I would, but I didn’t. I was in the woods, and I thought Dylan was another caecus. But he wasn’t.”
“Interesting, you almost killed your human,” Arisella snickered. “Well, every time, you thought you were in danger. More specifically, you thought you were going to die. So when we’re practicing the change, you’re going to have to replicate these feelings of danger without the actual danger. Do you understand?”
“Yes?” How did you just replicate feelings? That seemed a lot harder than hitting a target with a knife.
“Think of a memory, a strong memory,” Arisella suggested.
“Oh, now this sounds cliché,” I muttered disappointedly.
Arisella scowled. “Screw cliché. Just do it. Memories are going to be your strongest trigger for emotions.”
“Fine.” I closed my eyes and thought back to the first time I had changed, the way I had felt when the caecus pinned me into the wet mud, under the stench of rot and death, as it dragged a long nail down my torso…
But I didn’t feel afraid anymore. I just felt… angry. My body did nothing -- no quivering, breaking, doubling over in pain.
“It’s not working.”
“Try a different memory,” Arisella suggested. “You may have to run through a few.”
The next time, I envisioned Arisella launching knives at me, laughing at my inability to escape. I shivered with rage and willed the change to take me. But still, nothing happened.
“It’s not working,” I groaned. “Those were some of my most painful memories.”
Arisella smiled evilly. “I guess we could just make some new, more painful memories for you.”
“NO!” Adrian and I both shouted at the same time. Good, so he was paying attention.
Arisella threw her hands up. “It was a joke!”
I eyed her suspiciously. “What’s the memory you use?”
“The time I found my mother in her chambers, and I discovered that my father had killed her,” Arisella shrugged. “Rage is my trigger.”
God, how could she talk about her mother’s death so indifferently?
“And fear is my trigger,” I muttered. Rage would have been easier. I thought back to the way my mother had died, and my hand went to her pons out of habit. She had been wearing it the night she died -- when she had been stabbed in a cold, dark alley by a stranger with a knife. I squeezed my eyes shut and put myself into my nightmare. But this time, instead of observing her, I was her. I was the one being followed by the ebony shadow. I was the one he took by the hair and shoved mercilessly to the ground. I was the one whose neck he plunged the knife to. I was the one who died.
And I felt helpless, terrified, and alone. It was all so vivid, and I became trapped in the terrors of my own mind, unable to find my way out. The scene kept replaying in my head, like a nightmare, only I couldn’t escape i
t by waking up.
I barely even noticed that I had fallen to my knees, or that I was in agony. This time when I changed, I felt more desensitized, like my bones were liquefying and reforming rather than breaking and being put back together from the shattered pieces.
When I opened my eyes, I felt heavier and closer to the ground. I was alarmed to discover that I had lost the physical ability to stand upright. I stared down at what should have been my hands, and found paws. I was anatomically armed with claws I could extend and retract, not to mention that I was covered in a dense layer of black fur. Like a body-length sweater, I felt it on my face all the way down to my tail.
Hold on. A tail!
I flicked my tail around fluidly in amusement. I would enjoy having a tail.
I directed my attention back to Arisella, who was staring at me openmouthed. Behind her, Adrian seemed awestricken as well.
“She’s…” Adrian began.
“Beautiful,” Arisella breathed, grinning.
I felt shocked. I would have been willing to bet money that “beautiful” was not one of the words Arisella would have ever used to describe me.
I tried to open my mouth to say something in response, but only a strange, deep rumble emerged.
“You won’t be able to keep the change long, so we have to hurry. Wait here.” Arisella ran into the house, leaving me alone with Adrian.
I heard a series of loud crashes, before she returned with a large, full body mirror in her arms. “Quickly, look at yourself.”
The only things I could recognize in my reflection were my pons around my neck and my piercing purple eyes, and even those didn’t really feel like mine. A large black cat peered back at me, its body seemingly larger than mine was as a human. My clothes hung in tatters around my body, pinching me tightly in strange places where the threads hadn’t broken. I picked at them in discomfort with a claw.
“The clothes are quite a bother,” Arisella observed. “Let me help.” She cut what was left of them off my body with a knife before I could object. “Oh, don’t pout. We’ll get you new ones. The Spellbourn weave undergarments that change with you.” She pulled her T-Shirt over her head and stripped off her jeans, revealing what looked like matching black boxer briefs and a strapless sports bra, not to mention her subtle six pack.
I couldn’t tell her to stop taking her clothes off, so I just tried to look shocked. Could panthers look shocked?
“That way you’re not completely naked when you change back. It’s an enchantment of some sort. All Beastbourn have them. Very convenient. I’ll likely need to spare some for you. Don’t give me that face. It’s not like I want to share underwear with you.”
So she could interpret my facial expressions. This was good.
“Adrian,” she called to her brother. “I know you said no hand-to-hand combat, but I don’t think either of us expected her to get the change so quickly. She’s running out of time, and she needs to learn. Do I have permission to fight her in an equal form?”
Adrian narrowed his eyes at his sister. “I don’t think Amber would appreciate that very much.”
“I won’t hurt her. I’ll just teach her how to fight. What use is the change if she doesn’t know how to attack?” Arisella was kind of right. My panther form was essentially a waste until I learned how to use it.
Adrian seemed to mull it over. “Amber, if you don’t want to fight, growl or pounce on Aris or do something to express your unwillingness.”
I remained still. I was willing.
“See, she wants to do it,” Arisella urged.
“Fine, but keep your claws retracted and don’t bite hard enough to break skin,” Adrian told his sister harshly.
I wasn’t sure she heard him. She had transformed into the silvery fox-cat before he had even finished his sentence, and she seemed to revel in her new form. Stretching, she let out a guttural cry in exultation. It was almost as if she actually preferred being a grimalkin.
Staying true to her nature, she pounced on me before I was even prepared, knocking me over onto my back so that she was on top of me. She flattened her unnaturally large ears against her head and bit the open air in front of my face, baring her teeth ferociously. I hissed back and pushed my paws against her chest, forcing her off me so that I could get back up.
She began circling me, and I, realizing what she was doing, started to pace in the circle as well, so I would remain a constant distance from her at all times.
Toward the back wall, I perceived some shuffling. Even though I realized that it was probably just a squirrel, I still turned my head to see what it was, only to give Arisella an opening to rise onto her haunches and launch herself at me. I managed to react quickly enough to match her movements, colliding with her in midair. Fed up with her stupid surprise attacks, I fastened my teeth onto her neck hard enough for her to let out a little yelp before returning to the ground. I felt kind of bad, but she did deserve it.
More rustling emerged from the far wall of the garden, and this time Arisella and I both looked. Even Adrian had stopped reading the book that had somehow materialized in front of him to search for the source of the noise.
The ivy on the wall was quivering, producing soft scraping noises as the leaves brushed up against one another. Arisella’s hair rose on her back as the ivy rustled more and the shuffling turned into clear grunts.
Adrian stood up and cautiously approached the wall. “Someone’s trying to get over,” he said in a low voice. “Something humanoid.”
The wall was about ten feet high, and whoever was trying to scale it sounded like he or she was having a pretty hard time. Could it be one of the Bloodbourn who were looking for Adrian and Arisella? Had one finally found us?
Arisella’s claws slid out of her forepaws, and a warning rumble rose from her chest. She looked as if she were preparing herself for a fight. I realized that, as a panther, I might actually be of some use in physical combat, and I tried to copy her behavior exactly.
The ivy at the very top of the wall began shaking back and forth violently. Whatever it was, it was almost at the top.
Adrian froze and shifted into a fighting stance. If it was a Bloodbourn, we were all ready.
A messy brown tuft of hair appeared over the wall first, followed by a twinkling pair of green eyes. But they vanished as quickly as they appeared, because as soon as Adrian saw them, he had already produced one of his blades and thrown it toward the intruder. It flew over the top of the wall where the face would have been, had it not ducked.
“WHAT THE HELL,” a familiar voice cried from the other side.
I tried to shout at Adrian to stop, but only a series of growls emerged. Confused by the strange noises I was making, Adrian looked back at me, and I tried to plead him with my eyes to stop.
We all watched Dylan stupidly pop his head back over the wall, as if he had learned nothing the first time.
“Shit,” Adrian cussed when he recognized who it was.
“Hey, uh, Adrian,” Dylan said awkwardly as he hoisted himself up over the wall and began climbing down the thick vines of ivy on the other side. When he was halfway down, he slipped and fell on his butt. No one moved to help him. We were all frozen with shock.
“I, uh, brought burgers,” he offered hesitantly. He still hadn’t turned away from the wall since he had fallen. He seemed to be staring at something on the bricks, buried in the ivy.
“Is that a machete?” he asked with suspicion. He shifted his attention toward Adrian, but his eyes fell on the tree beside him. “Oh my God, are those knives? What are you doing out here?” It looked like Dylan was finally beginning to realize what a huge mistake he had made, and he was freaking out.
“Dylan, I’m going to need you to calm down.” Adrian held out his hands in front of him, as if to show Dylan that he wouldn’t hurt him.
“Why do you have all these kni-” His eyes scanned the garden and stopped on Arisella and me. Dylan’s eyes widened, and he moved closer to the wall.
&nbs
p; “Those are – What is that?” He pointed a quaking finger at Arisella.
“This can all be explained.” Adrian moved toward Dylan, but Dylan just backed up against the wall.
“Where is Amber?” Dylan whispered, then looked at all the knives, then looked at the big cats that were Arisella and I.
“She’s fine,” Adrian assured him.
“WHERE IS AMBER?” Dylan shouted. I suspected he was afraid that Adrian had personally chopped me up and fed me to Arisella.
Beside me I heard a tired sigh. “Forget it, Adrian. It’s over. He knows.” Arisella had silently slipped back into human form when I wasn’t looking. Dylan seemed phased by her sudden presence, not to mention her bare skin.
“WHAT IS GOING ON HERE?!” Dylan was in hysterics.
“Be quiet!” Arisella glared at him. The last thing they needed was someone calling the cops on them for noise.
Dylan’s eyes darted around the yard rapidly, searching for me. He looked terrified and helpless, like a cornered bunny.
Without thinking, I moved toward him. He panicked and grabbed one of the many knives on the ground. I froze, more afraid that he would hurt himself than he would hurt me.
Just when he looked like he was about to throw it, Adrian barked, “Don’t!”
“Then tell me where the hell Amber is.” Sweat dripped down Dylan’s brow.
“You’re about to throw your knife at her,” Arisella stated in frustration.
“Do you think I’m stupid?” Dylan spat. “THAT IS A LEOPARD.”
“While I have always thought you were stupid,” Arisella began, “she’s the panther. She physically changed into a panther.”
“That is such shit.” Out of impatience, he threw the knife at me and missed. I didn’t even have to dodge it. He had terrible aim. Cursing, he grabbed for another knife. “Even if that were Amber, you think I still wouldn’t be mad as hell that you had changed her into a leopard?!”
Adrian stepped up. “We haven’t done anything to her. She is capable of changing into a panther herself.”
“Well, then, change her back!”
“She can’t, idiot,” Arisella sighed, as if it were perfectly obvious. “If she knew how to change back, she would have done it by now. She’ll change back eventually. Just a couple more minutes-”
Feral (The Irisbourn Chronicles Book 1) Page 16