Markings (8 page)

Chapter 9: Chronic

I
can call you
what
?”

“
Shifters
.” Aaron exaggerated the word. “You know, like, shape-shifters? We are the Miew Demos.”

I stared. When I was younger, like middle school age, I’d had the biggest infatuation with fantasy novels. Well, an infatuation with books period. I liked the stories about the vampires who didn’t want to hurt their human lovers, and the witches who had to solve puzzles and make spells to save lives. But—ironically—my favorites were the stories about shape-shifters, those who can change their physical appearance between human and animal.

“But we aren’t like Cain,” Aaron added quickly. “We’re sort of like, I guess you could call it, an enemy clan? And we don’t start rippling or cracking as our bodies rearrange.”

“I see.” I ran my hands through my hair, trying to soak this in. It was not easy. “Okay, so let’s say I believe you for one second. What do you—
we
turn into?”

“You really don’t know?” he asked, amused.

“Should I?”

“Uh, what’s a mutt’s worst enemy besides another mutt?”

My eyebrows shot up. “We turn into
cats
? Are you kidding me right now?”

“We’re not talking house cats, Lina,” he assured, his smirk turning into a grin. “No, no. We’re talking the meaning of feline: we’re literally the wildcats.”

“
Wildcat
?” I couldn’t say that word and put my name next to it. It was like trying to put two magnets with the same polarization together: it was just not happening.

“Our clan is relatively small. We’re a very rare breed of people.” His smile fell. “Actually, a better term might be
endangered
.”

Staring at my hands, I tried to picture paws in their place, tried to imagine the feel of fur covering my body. Scary. “What do you mean endangered? Like, we’re being hunted?”

“Pretty much. Yeah.”

“By what?”

His grip on the steering wheel tightened. “The Iew Keftey . . . creatures like Cain.” He flashed me a guilty look. “That’s, um, the real reason why I had stitches. I do jog on the reserve, but it’s to keep watch for the Keftey. I got into a fight with an intruder trying to break our borders. Then, that next Friday I was on the edge of the reserve and got into a fight with a real wildcat—one that wasn’t a Shifter. The gang found me and took me to the shelter. I don’t like cages all that much, and Ellen forgot to let me out before she left, so—”

“Holy Mother of Pearl. The cougar! The cougar in the cage was . . .” I trailed off.

He smirked. “Me.”

I shook my head, closing my eyes. I couldn’t bring myself to believe him, though the evidence was all right there. It was just so unreal! But if Cain could do it . . .

“He knew my last name,” I said suddenly, thinking of the creep.

“What?”

“Cain. He knew I worked for you at the shelter, said something about ‘just like her’ and um . . . scents from around the world or something? Like I was an exotic perfume?”

A strange rumbling came from Aaron’s throat. He bared his teeth before slamming a fist against the wheel. “Dammit,” he muttered.

“What is it?”

“You are very special, Lina. Do you remember before you left? When I sort of . . . threw myself on you at your house and shut you in my car?”

“No, that was just so easy to forget,” I snarked.

He rolled his eyes. “So, the Iew Keftey have a very distinct scent to a Shifter nose, as we do to them. And uh, the night I brought you home, when you opened the car door
 
. . .”

I cringed. “You smelled them?”

“Sometimes they send the fastest members of the pack into our territory. Scouts—or we call them spies. I waited until you were inside to go looking, and I caught one about the time I heard you near the woods. But if Cain knew so much . . . shit, there must’ve been another.” Aaron shivered, his arms suddenly in goose bumps. “They make terrible sounds when they’re killed. I’ve never heard anything more haunting.”

“Sounds.” There it was again, the memory of that terrible cry, the feeling of knowing something suffered torture in the woods that night.

The pieces were coming together. Everything from the last two weeks that I couldn’t explain or didn’t understand started to make sense. An odd kind of sense, yes, but still. I sunk in my seat. Staring out the window, I thought about how cats had great eyesight, many with better eyesight than humans. That explained the goodbye to my glasses. And the leopard spot thing was pretty self-explanatory. Cain couldn’t have known all those little facts about my life without help, or without stalking me.

This Shifter thing was getting harder to deny.

Aaron stretched in his seat as we came to a stoplight. I admired his freckles as he flexed his arms. I watched his eyes flick back and forth between me and the light. My heart did this weird flutter thing.

“Aaron?”

“Hmm?”

“Thank you. For saving my life . . . And, um, I’m sorry I treated you the way I did. You just scared me.”

He blinked at me then reached across the dash slowly, like he was waiting for me to jerk away. When I didn’t, he gave my hand a gentle squeeze. “I’m sorry I scared you. This is kind of a scary thing for someone who’s been raised human. But I promise you, Lina: I’m not out to hurt you. You are safe with me.”

I nodded. “You’re off my list.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. But you’re back on probation.”

He shook his head, trying not to laugh. “Alright, fine.”

•   •   •

My eyes flickered open. I stared at my bedroom ceiling, the familiar smell of peach perfume in the air. Lurching over, I discovered a pillow under my head, a blue quilt covering my legs. I was in my own bed.

Huh
? I scratched my head and a sharp pain went through my skull. Wincing, I felt around. A small area on the left side of my forehead seemed to be swelling. I was afraid to look in the mirror. Had I smacked the headboard in my sleep again?

My duffel bag sat beside the door. Harry was sleeping on it, a big white lump denting the middle. I reached out to grab my phone off my nightstand only to realize it wasn’t there. The painted shoe on the wall, the one with the clock in it, had its hands pointing towards five’ o’clock.

I was home from the resort? Already?

“Oh, God.” My stomach twisted as today’s events returned, clear and sharp as ever. Cain mutating in the woods. Aaron saving my life. Shifters . . . had I imagined that part on the drive home?

I don’t think so
.

Getting out of bed, I went downstairs. The driveway was empty, Mom not home yet. I was about to enter the kitchen when I noticed the house phone. The little red light blinked, signaling a missed message. I clicked the button. It was Kat’s cell.

“Celina . . . Jane . . . Bayberry,” Kat scolded. I actually jumped back from the message machine. “I—I—I don’t even know where to start! How could you disappear like this? I mean, we spent two hours—
two hours
, Lina—looking for you, and all I come up with is your backpack which I don’t know if you just left out in the woods to rot or you forgot it while you were—were, ah heck, I don’t know!”

Backpack
? I thought. Ah, yes, that explained why I couldn’t find my cell phone.

“And then that note. You know, my mother might’ve fallen for it, but she doesn’t know you like I do.” Kat paused her rampaging, panting into the phone. “I don’t know what happened, Celina Bayberry, but you’d better call me when you get this . . .
if
you get this. Um—yeah. Bye!”

I hung up the phone, leaning against the wall. Okay, so I could call Aaron trustworthy, seeing as I was at home safe . . . but my other hope, to still have Kat’s friendship, was looking iffy. My eyes watered as I thought of all our good times going down the drain. I needed Kat. I should’ve just picked up the phone and called, but how would I explain?

Drifting to the couch, I sat down, curling my legs into my chest. Little details of me and Aaron’s conversation returned, details about Cain being his enemy, about the Shifters, which is what he was . . . what people at the shelter were.

I clutched one of the couch pillows.
What I will be
.

It was like sitting in the doctor’s office, surrounded by white walls, sitting on a paper-covered bed. Your heart thudding in your ears as you await the doctor, afraid yet relieved when he steps into the room. He looks at you with unreadable eyes, a clipboard in his hand, and he breaks the news to you gently: you have a chronic disease. Sure, it isn’t considered life-threatening, but
chronic
. . . that means you’ll have it forever. It’ll alter your life in some way. You don’t know what to think. Should you be scared? Burst out in tears? And when they send you home, you can’t concentrate. The day feels ruined, like your old life is suddenly gone.

It was a teacher work day, so no school today. I was relieved not to have to face my classmates. I floated about the house like a ghost, mechanically going through the actions of taking a shower, eating breakfast, and cleaning the litter box. My mind was a playhouse for worries; they bounced off the walls of my brain, trampled the floors of my logic thinking. The word
Shifter
came with the worries, again and again, relentless.

Harry was also acting abnormal. He followed me room to room, never really settling. Only when he wanted something did he act like this, so I put some wet food in his bowl. When he took two bites and walked away, I knew something was wrong. While I played on the computer he kept flicking his tail, a sign of agitation. It wasn’t until Snow and Albert found their way into my room that I knew it wasn’t just him; something was affecting all the cats.

Iew Keftey
. The term sent goose bumps down my legs. That was the term Aaron had used for Cain. When I linked that to his words about a scout snooping through my woods, I leapt out of my chair.

Standing in the front room, I stared out the window. There were no foot or paw prints across the veranda or in the yard that I could see. I examined the driveway and stretched to glimpse the front of the garage. All seemed fine.

Reluctantly, I turned my eyes towards the woods. There was no breeze today, so the trees and bushes sat silently side by side. Cracking the window open, I listened. The frogs sang from the marshlands down in the gully. Good. They wouldn’t be singing if they sensed danger.

Still I perched in the window, staying there for several minutes. Convinced that maybe the cats were just in season or something, I shuffled to the kitchen, deciding a little bit of chocolate would calm my nerves. Pulling out an unopened bar from the cupboard, I turned, poised to head to the fridge.

I caught it in my peripheral vision. Through the kitchen window, a large shape came prowling out of the trees. It slid past the window so fast that when I jerked to look, it was gone.

I stood frozen in the center of the kitchen. Luckily, the shape had not been black, but tan . . . then again wolves could be tan, I think. Did Aaron specify only one color for these Iew Keftey? Creeping to the window, I bent over the sink. I was peering towards the backwoods when a huge, tan face with slit pupils popped up in the glass.

I screamed, tumbling backwards. The chocolate bar went soaring as I tripped, fell on the floor. The giant cougar pawed at the window, jade eyes anxious—or maybe hungry. I scrambled back, hitting the wall as I stared, drop-jawed, at the unwelcome visitor.

White light blasted through the window. It shined through the glass and consumed the kitchen fast as a camera flash, leaving me blind. Blinking away the spots, my eyes focused on a familiar face.

Aaron stood in the window, trying to hold back a smile.

“Aaron!” I snarled.

He pointed sideways to the kitchen’s back door, mouthing,
Open
.

Legs still wobbly, I got up and went to it. He peered through the tiny curtained window, waiting. I folded my arms. “Come on, Lina,” he whined when the door didn’t budge.

I narrowed my eyes. “What, you can’t ring the doorbell like a normal person?”

He started laughing. “Well, I’m not normal, am I? Don’t give me the evil eye, I’m sorry, okay?” Widening his eyes, he pretended to look sweet and innocent. “Please open the door?”

So lucky he’s cute
. I shook my head then turned the lock.

Standing in the open doorway, Aaron wore a faded, long-sleeved shirt with sweatpants and flip-flops. It dawned on me that I was still wearing my ratty pants and a too-small tank top. He turned his too-cute smile on me. “You should’ve seen your face,” he said.

The heat swept into my cheeks. “I so want to kill you right now.”

“No you don’t. I can see it in your eyes.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Came to see how you were taking things,” he said. “I know this weekend was sort of . . . traumatic.”

“Oh.”
He came to check on me
.

“Yeah.” He ran a hand through his hair, stretching at the same time. I nearly reached up to pull his hand down, tell him to stop acting like a supermodel or my animal instincts might throw me on him. Now that I knew he wasn’t out to get me, the hotness factor was really hitting.

“So. How
are
you taking things?” he asked.

“Um. Okay, I guess.”

“You guess . . .”

“Yeah.” I didn’t want him to catch on to the amount of worry I felt inside.

“I see.” His eyes drifted to my forehead.

I touched the bruise I’d discovered this morning. He looked away. “What?” I asked, feeling like he had a comment.

“Oh, nothing . . . How’s your head?”

“Why am I not surprised?” My fingers gently tapped the purple spot. He was acting too sheepish for it to not have something to do with him—plus, I don’t thrash around in my sleep.

“The, uh, front door was locked and no one was here when we got back.” He crinkled his nose. “I might’ve misjudged the width of your window.”

“Really.”

“Are you mad?”

“Maybe.” Actually, I was preoccupied with the thought that he’d carried me out of his car all the way up onto my roof and through the window.
That’s hot . . .

“Too mad to go get a coffee with me?”

I hesitated.
“Um. I’m never too mad for coffee. But, uh,”—I looked down at my repulsive outfit— “Give me, like, two minutes?”

He shrugged. “I’ll even give you five. Can I come in?”

“Sure.” I stood back, letting him slink into the kitchen. The dishes were done and I’d cleaned off the counter, but even with a tidy house, Aaron seemed out of place here, like a model walking a runway in a grocery store.

Leaving him in front of the TV, I dashed upstairs, tearing clothes off as I went. I dug in my closet until a pair of skinny jeans surfaced. Instead of the usual t-shirt, I found a flowing, yellow top that I hadn’t worn since last summer. I pulled the outfit together but still felt like something was missing; or more like I still didn’t feel good enough to be seen with Aaron.