Sophie's First Shift: There’s No Turning Back (Shifters Take Manhattan Book 1)

by A. M. Sommers

  CHAPTER NINE

  Five minutes later, Sophie and Marko are in an Uber crossing the park on their way to the Perez family home on Fifth Avenue. While Sophie wants to meet Mrs. Perez, she feels uncomfortable dropping in without warning. Marko tells her not to worry, that it was his mother’s idea that she and Sophie should right away meet.

  Their Uber is an immaculate late model lavender-scented Toyota Camry, which while comfortable feels a little cramped. Sophie uses peripheral vision to watch Marko, who looks more relaxed than he has since the incident. She texts Will warning she’ll be later than she thought.

  Marko’s doorman’s appearance is unexceptional, but when he reaches across his desk to hand Marko a package his uniform jacket falls open to reveal a shoulder holster. Even for New York, Sophie thinks, armed doormen are unusual. Usually, they just have a bat handy to cope with unruly visitors.

  Once in the elevator, she asks Marko about the gun. “It is nothing,” he tells her, “my family and our neighbors have many valuable possessions that bad people would like for their own. It’s how it’s always been.”

  When the elevator doors open at the penthouse level, Sophie realizes the Perez’s apartment encompasses the entire floor. They are in a marble-floored foyer with oversized mirrors framed in ornate gold. She can see through to the enormous living room which has multiple lead framed windows, with stained glass accents, that overlook the park. While Sophie has never wanted to live anywhere but Greenwich Village, the Perez view gives her pause.

  Without thinking about formalities, Sophie walks straight to the windows. It’s dusk, but she can still see that a recent snow coated the trees’ branches with snow and sequins. She can see across the park to the majestic buildings lining Central Park West. Amazing.

  She hears the rat-a-tat of high heels coming closer and turns to meet the stunning Mrs. Perez, who looks to be about her age, if not younger. Her thick, black, perfectly-highlighted glass-smooth center-parted hair is fashionably bobbed at chin-length. Her slightly almond eyes are heavily lashed; her olive skin is pore-less and her lips generous. Her only jewelry, besides her plain wedding band, is a pair of simple platinum hoop earrings. Her perfume hints at gardenias.

  “Thank you for agreeing to meet with me on such short notice, Mrs. Perez,” she says extending her right hand.

  “Please, call me Isabelle,” she says, taking Sophie’s hand in both of hers. “Marko and I both felt it imperative that we meet right away. May I offer you tea or something a bit stronger?”

  As a teacher, Sophie has always felt she should model perfect behavior, but now, what the Hell? “A glass of red wine would be lovely.”

  “I agree,” Isabelle responds, with only the slightest trace of an accent. “Marko, please ask Roberto to bring us a bottle of cabernet and some glasses. And then, please go to your room and begin your homework. I would like to speak to Mrs. Parker alone.”

  This is so crazy, Sophie thinks. We’re going to sit here high atop Central Park, before a crackling fire, and talk about werewolves. “Please, call me Sophie,” she gets out.

  Isabelle indicates Sophie should sit next to her on the couch closest to the fire. “Marko thinks so highly of you,” she says as a slight youngish man in black pants, a white jacket, and black tie enters with their wine. Roberto places the tray in front of them and leaves without saying a word. “Gracias,” Isabelle calls out.

  She pours out two glasses and hands one to Sophie. “There’s no adequate or appropriate toast for a time like this. I’m sure you agree, Sophie.”

  Sophie looks down at her glass and says nothing. How does she begin asking a student’s mother if she knows her son is, at best, delusional?

  “Marko has been upset, has felt guilty, ever since Guillermo attacked you. He feels it his fault because he introduced you to Guillermo. Unfortunately, he was proud to show off his attractive young teacher.”

  “Well, that’s very flattering,” Sophie says, knowing the statement inane. It’s obvious that Isabelle has been drinking from the same bottle of Kool-Aid that Marko has. What should she do next?

  Isabelle takes Sophie’s hand. “I know what you must be thinking. Why am I sitting here with this woman who is as crazy as her son? Am I correct?”

  Sophie blushes and looks away. “I came here to talk to you because I’m concerned about, well, the strange things Marko has been telling me. I like him very much, so I’m worried about him.”

  “And now? Isabelle asks. “Do you think we should be locked up somewhere together? Or, do you want to ask me about the changes you’ve been experiencing?”

  She lets go of Sophie’s hand and reaches to softly stroke her neck, the area where an angry scar should be visible. Sophie flinches. “You’ve known since the first day after Guillermo bit you that you’d been changed. Did you tell anybody that your wound disappeared over night?”

  Sophie shakes her head.

  “It must have been so hard to keep that secret to yourself, to not know what’s happening to your body. You didn’t want anybody asking you questions that you yourself could not answer. I am so sorry for what you are going through.”

  “Thank you for understanding,” Sophie responds. “I know the attack wasn’t your fault or Marko’s.”

  “Guillermo’s father is a business associate of Enrique, my husband. We told him what his son did to you, and he sent Guillermo away, out of the country. He is very ashamed of his son’s behavior, and desires to know what he can do to help you through this very difficult time.”

  Sophie stares at Isabelle. “Just what do you mean by this very difficult time?”

  “Ah, I see you still doubt all that Marko has told you,” Isabelle tells her. “You don’t want to believe that you will soon become one of us. I totally understand your fear.”

  “And, what do you mean by ‘one of us’?” Sophie asks, somewhat defiant.

  “In two days, there will be a full moon, and you will go through your first transition to a wolf. I’m afraid, despite all I will do to prepare you, that it will be a painful and frightening experience. I chose to make the transition, it was very much what I wanted, but the pain was still great.”

  “You must know,” Sophie says, tears flowing. “that I can’t believe what you’re telling me. It is just too strange, too unbelievable. I’m just a normal girl, a wife, a teacher. You seem nice and rational, but this can’t really be happening.”

  “I understand, my dear. Please watch, I know how to convince you.”

  As Sophie watches with growing alarm, Isabelle steps out of her suede heels, pauses a moment, deeply bends her knees, and jumps straight up, nearly reaching the apartment’s eleven foot ceiling. When she lands, it’s on four paws. A beautiful slate gray wolf with a white muff licks Sophie’s hand.

  ****

  Sophie hears someone wailing, but it’s not Isabelle in her wolf form. She’s the banshee.

  In the time it takes Sophie to take three deep breaths, the wolf leaps up and Isabel gracefully descends. After sliding back into her shoes, she goes over to an art deco mirror to check her hair, adjusts her part, then turns back to Sophie.

  “I’m sorry if I shocked you but convincing you with words alone was taking too much time, a transition is so much more convincing and efficient. I hope you took notice that assuming my wolf form was not painful or dangerous. In the future, that is how it will be for you.”

  Sophie, who’d jumped up when Isabelle started transforming, sits back down and covers her eyes with her hands. She’s still blubbering. “I’m just an average person,” she says repeatedly, like it’s her new mantra.

  Isabelle again takes her hand. “Sophie, you were never an average person. You are beautiful, well-educated, charming, spirited, and good-hearted. That is how you will remain. In the future, you will face many challenges, but the new strengths you will gain will see you through.”

  “Please, isn’t there some way you can help me stay the way I am, or the way I was?” Sophie pleads.


  “No, my dear,” Isabelle sadly says. “I will help you, guide you, through your first transformation. And, I will help you adapt to your new powers. You have much to learn. But, I can’t undo what Guillermo has done. I have known him since he was a little boy, but he will never enter our home again. He is now an outcast.”

  “That doesn’t really do me any good at this point, does it?”

  Isabelle remains empathetic. “No, all I can do is guide you.”

  Isabelle leaves the room and comes back with an embroidered handkerchief for Sophie. The two women sit hip-to-hip as Sophie blots her tears and delicately blows her nose. “I think you better start cluing me in on what I should expect, how I prepare,” Sophie says, clearing her throat.

  “Yes, we should start,” Isabelle responds. “Time is short. You should stay with us for the next three or four days. First to prepare, and then to heal and adjust. What do you think you should tell your husband and your school?”

  Sophie is stumped. It was hard enough just hiding her lack of a scar. She can just call in sick at work, but how can she hide from Will for nearly four days? Her recent night in the hospital was the first night they’d been apart since they were married. How much will she have to lie to Will going forward?

  “I know how you feel because I’ve been through it,” Isabelle says sympathetically. “I was an innocent girl who fell in love with a handsome and charming man who happened to be visiting my city. All my friends were drawn to him, competed for his attention. But he was drawn to me, he courted me. He became all I wanted, all my soul desired.”

  Sophie wonders if Will could possibly love her as much as Isabelle loved and loves Enrique and accept what she’ll become. Could any typical male? It doesn’t seem possible. “When, how did he tell you he was a shape shifter?”

  “One evening, he led me to a bench in a far corner of my parents’ property. We’d been there before because it was the best, most private, place to embrace. We sat, he took my hand, and asked if I knew he loved me and would never hurt me. Of course, I said. He asked if I could trust him no matter what. Of course, I said again. He said he had something to show me and made me promise I would not scream. He told me to close my eyes, which I did. After a moment, I felt some pressure on my knee. I was not frightened when I opened my eyes and saw a black wolf looking at me with gentle eyes. I knelt down and embraced it.”

  “You weren’t the least afraid?”

  “No, because I could see love in the wolf’s eyes, and I knew I could trust it as I trusted Enrique. I did feel fear, though, when Enrique said he could only marry a woman willing to become what he was. He was loving but firm. It took me several days to decide what to do. I didn’t want to lose him but agreeing to such a change terrified me. Finally, my love for Enrique made it impossible for me to give him up.”

  “You actually make your situation sound romantic,” Sophie says touching Isabelle’s hand. “What happened after that?”

  “He insisted I transform before marriage. He wanted me to accept his way of life because it was truly what I wanted and not because I felt obligated to because of marriage. He didn’t want to risk my changing my mind after we’d exchanged vows, which are very sacred to both of us. Arranging my first transition was not simple. Although a grown woman, I was still living with my parents who were very strict and traditional. When I wanted to travel, a family member always had to accompany me. You can see my difficulty?”

  When Sophie nods, she continues. “He marked me the night I said we should marry. He was as gentle and caring as possible. Then, God was my savior as I told my parents I needed time alone with God before I married. They believed I was going to a convent retreat where no outside contact with the world was allowed. They were very pleased to have raised such a devout daughter. Instead, I went to his mother who saw me through.”

  Sophie had to smile, as a non-Catholic she can’t very well claim she needs a few days with some nuns. Isabelle reads her mind and puts on her thinking cap. She rises, starts pacing, leaves the room, and comes back with a laptop. “I have an inspiration,” she tells Sophie as she fires up the computer.

  Ten minutes later, she presents Sophie with a list of several residential teacher workshops within a one-day travel distance. “You can tell the school you are ill, but you need this to explain to your husband why you are not at home,” Isabelle explains. Sophie chooses a Boston Conference focused on improving students’ writing skills, which actually sounds pretty interesting to her.

  “It is Thursday, so go home to your husband and say you just learned of this wonderful conference and must go. Instead of going to the train tomorrow, you will come here. I will register you for the conference, so you have written proof.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  After leaving Isabelle, she starts to head home to Will, but then gets hit by an intense desire to go to her real home, the house where she grew up. She wants her mommy and daddy. And her sister. In case things don’t … work out, she wants to see and be held by all of them one more time. She wants to say good-by and maybe sneak in an I love you or two.

  As she walks to the Lex subway, she texts Will to clue him in on the “conference,” so he’ll have absorbed the news by the time she gets home.

  It’s half after six, so rush hour is almost over but the train is still crowded. At first, she needs to stand, but plops into a seat after one stop when a girl, a Catholic school student by the look of her uniform, jumps up and scurries toward the closing door. She leans back, centers her heavy backpack on her lap and looks around. Nobody looks particularly interesting or out of the ordinary until she sees a handsome ivy-league looking guy in a luxurious camel hair overcoat slowly inching towards her. Although he looks gorgeous and upstanding, her intuition tells her to look away, so she averts her eyes until the next stop. When she looks up again, he is standing only a few feet away. Their eyes meet and he shoots her a sly, knowing look. When he smiles at her, his canine teeth grow longer, pointier. They gleam. He’s a shifter in his human form. When he winks at her, her ability to breathe disappears.

  Why can’t she attract normal human dirtbags like other women?

  The train approaches Union Square, her stop. As soon as the train enters the station her adrenaline kicks in, enabling her to move like a linebacker past all passengers between her seat and the door. When the train wheezes to a stop, the doors remain closed. Her heart pounds wildly. Come on. Come on. When the doors finally open, she hits the platform running, pushing past the slower moving passengers at full speed to and up the nearest staircase. Once out on the street, she can’t breathe a sigh of relief because she’s too busy gasping for air. God, her backpack weighs a ton.

  The sidewalks around Union Square are packed and grid-locked so she turns west off University onto 12th Street, a tree-lined, primarily residential street that is rarely crowded. Especially when it’s fifteen degrees and dark. She’s halfway to Fifth Avenue when she hears heavy footsteps coming on fast. Too fast. Not again, she thinks, not again. Suddenly, she’s pressed up against a spiked iron fence that protects an impressive town house’s postage-stamp yard.

  The shifter in human form has her pinned, his hands hold spikes on both sides of her body. “Why did you look at me like that on the train if you didn’t want to connect?” He sounds self-righteous, not angry or evil. “I’m confused. You were giving off your scent. Were you just playing with me?”

  Sophie is speechless. Stunned. But no longer terrified. She knows what’s going on, is not happy about it, but plays dumb. She raises her arms, extends them and pushes him away. “What the Hell are you doing? Are you crazy? I don’t have any perfume on. You must have smelled somebody else. Get your nose checked, for God’s sake.”

  He observes her closely, as if judging her sincerity. “I’m sorry, this has never happened to me before. I’ve never been wrong about ….” He smiles shyly, with normal teeth, and looks embarrassed, “I’m sorry I frightened you. You just seemed like someone I might know, and I thought you
were, you know, playing games with me.”

  He apologizes again and reaches down to pick up her backpack, which dropped when he pinned her. Before he heads off back toward Union Square, he can’t resist coming close for a last sniff. He walks off shaking his head.

  Shaken, but not thrown, Sophie sadly understands that this uncomfortable encounter would probably not be her last dustup with a shifter. Isn’t my new life grand, she thinks.

  After adjusting her backpack, she continues west and then south to her parents’ house on West 10th Street, where they’ve lived since she was ten. While her family owns the whole building, they rent out the top floors so they can afford the bottom two. When she gets there, she hesitates at the bottom of the stairs and idly reaches out to knock snow off one of their shrubs. Slowly she climbs the stairs and uses her key to unlock the door.

  “Hello, family, fear not, it is just your long-lost daughter here to say hello.”

  Her mother comes through the dining and living rooms and then into the hall, wiping her hands on a dish towel. Her father follows behind her carrying wood for the fireplace. Nina comes banging upstairs from her ground floor bedroom.

  “Sophie, what a big and nice surprise to see you,” her mother says, kissing her cheek. “What brings you down on such a night?”

  “I had to do some research at the NYU library and thought maybe you could provide me with a drink before I head home,” she lies.

  “Coming right up,” her father says, giving her a quick hug, asking Nina to come help him with the glasses.

  “Are you sure you can’t stay for dinner?” her mother asks, leading her into the kitchen where a roast chicken is ‘resting’.”

  “Nope. I’m going to a conference in Boston this weekend and I want to spend tonight with Will since he’ll be alone until Monday.”

  Margaret looks at her closely and then touches her cheek. “Are you okay? Is everything all right? You look sad. Pretty, but sad.”

  “No, I’m fine. Just tired and I need to pack tonight.”