《Lunar Phases》


 1 – Coming of Age

    I¡¯m awake. What I should be doing is tearing off the sheets, and springing up to embrace the day. Instead of moving, I freeze. Something more than personal pride in my birthday is marking the continuation of my existence in a new way. Something more substantial. An end. Today is a beginning to all things but one. My growth spurt has come to an abrupt halt. The stretching limbs and constant fast forward will cease now. Development complete. Physical growth, from embryo to adult in ten years has been arduous. A game of catch-up my body played with my mind. Ironic that a ritualistic day celebrating birth would mark a journey¡¯s end for me.


    I lay on my pillow, trying to shove away the typical sluggishness plaguing me in the mornings. I won¡¯t miss sleeping nearly twelve hours a day, every day. Now that I¡¯m done growing, I won¡¯t need so many hours to recuperate from it. In the grand scheme of things, having spent half my life wasted in a dreamscape is fractional when sized against the lifetime ahead of me. Being a half-phaser holds the same benefit of prolonged existence. Presumably. We don¡¯t actually know. I¡¯m the benchmark. Regardless, my family doesn¡¯t sleep. Not since their phase transition.


    I haul the pillow over my face. Half-phaser. My other half? It¡¯s human. In this case, being half and half isn¡¯t about even sides. I¡¯m not fifty percent phaser or fifty percent human. I¡¯m one or the other. I can¡¯t have the best of both worlds. I have to choose. Suffocation seems simpler than making this choice. Honestly, the moon should choose, in the same way it chooses our phase trajectory in the first place.


    New Moon = dark fire phaser


    Waning Crescent = dark water phaser


    Third Quarter = light air phaser


    Waning Gibbous = light earth phaser


    Full Moon = light fire phaser


    Waxing Gibbous = light water phaser


    First Quarter = dark air phaser (this is me)


    Waxing Crescent = dark earth phaser


    Yawning again, I contemplate lying back on the bed and shoving away the whole day. To my parents, Rusty and Mary Willows, the ten years of my childhood were unbearably short when weighed against an eternity. Phasers have that luxury, I reckon. Time is gauged differently when it¡¯s endless. Having grown so quickly did steal from them moments normal parents linger over. I¡¯ll concede to that, but the short time for them seemed excruciatingly long for my body, which was trying desperately to catch up with my mind. Why? Because fusion. Their fusion, specifically.


    Fusion is one of our significant phase transitions, where a phaser is supposed to link to their other half. Their soulmate. This fusion creates synergy for both phasers, an endless energy supply shared between a light and dark phaser. My parents put the cart before the horse with me. Not only did my father go against protocols, fusing to a human, he fused to a human, who unbeknownst to them, was pregnant with me at the time. His seed. They were just dumb about it. Like I said, cart before the horse. This fusion prematurely invoked my phase transition to adulthood. My mental development was instant.


    I was never a little girl, despite my childlike form indicating otherwise. My mental awareness began in utero. It shifted from nothing to everything all at once, upon the aforementioned fusion. I still had to learn things, as an adult might have to should a wave of amnesia overwhelm their brain, but it wasn¡¯t the same type of learning. My hollow silo was waiting to be filled. My education required no repetition or quizzing to confirm the teaching. I was the perfect student. Retention began at my phase transition, the moment my father and mother connected on that elevated, physical level.


    I sit up on the bed, tossing the pillow to the floor. Overthinking is a burden coming with my attribute. I can¡¯t forget. I remember every movement, every moment, and every interaction of my life. The name of every person I¡¯ve ever met. The darkness prior to my birth. The voices surrounding me before I could put them to faces, then those faces speaking words they couldn¡¯t believe I understood. I remember the regret, reluctance, acceptance, and finally understanding of everyone around me. I had a retentive mind from the beginning without the limitations of space. Infinite. While I learned and grew intellectually, my mind did this far quicker than my body. My physical development wasn¡¯t immediate, though it was significantly hastened. A single decade instead of two. Maybe not slow, comparably, but slow to me without ample motor control.


    Slow motion steps find me in front of my closet, where I open it to the onslaught of clothes enough for twenty children. Carefully calculating, I choose a blue, strapless satin halting at my knees. Dad will appreciate the use of his favourite color, finding it the loveliest shade on both his ladies. It¡¯s more nostalgia than anything. My mom used to have the most glorious sapphire eyes before their fusion. The length, or lack thereof, might be a problem, but I¡¯m an adult now. He¡¯ll have an entirely new range of things to grow accustomed to in the coming months, least of all how much skin I¡¯m showing.


    I pull the dress over my head, smoothing it out to fall along the curves of my finished form. Having a dad who can read your every thought is problematic, making it quite difficult to have a mind of my own. I¡¯m concerned I¡¯ll say or think the wrong thing, show the wrong thing, and I love him so deeply I can¡¯t bear to cause him pain. On the other hand, having to never fully explain myself is a blessing. What he can¡¯t read, I show him. This is my gift. It¡¯s the gift to project thoughts into someone¡¯s mind, the opposite of his ability to hear thoughts.


    All phasers get a gift from Luna. That gift depends on a combination of our element (air, earth, water, or fire) and our schism (light or dark). Our schism determines whether our gifts are defensive (innate) or offensive (requires touch/activation). As a light air phaser, Dad pulls. Conversely, I push. All air phaser gifts are mental in nature¡ªmind reading, future seeing, memory sifting, etc. Earth phaser gifts encompass flora (plants) and fauna (animals), relating to healing or growth. Water phasers work with the metaphorical heart, reading or manipulating emotions. Fire phasers¡­they shapeshift.


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    Dad¡¯s never purposely taken anything he heard and used it against me, but he relays everything to Mom. The time for secrets between them has long passed. Part of what she received in the fusion is a bridge directly to Dad, a sort of two-way radio in their heads. They have to push the button to talk, though. I¡¯m insanely envious of that partition. My thoughts are an open channel to him. There¡¯s no choice for me. They know. They know my every thought, hope, and dream. They know everything, yet they know nothing. Why? Easy answer. I haven¡¯t figured myself out at this point.


    My free time is sparse. When given the choice, I prefer to spend it with my Grandpa Miller and Vera Findlay¡ªmy mother¡¯s side of the family. Those times are full of things seeming simpler somehow. He lives by a ¡®need to know basis¡¯ philosophy, which is absolutely fine by me. He loves me without conditions or questions and cherishes all moments we spend together. He never asks what isn¡¯t my secret to tell. He¡¯ll never truly know how much I appreciate that.


    ¡°Mary,¡± he¡¯d say to my mom. ¡°She¡¯s growing like a bad weed. You did real good.¡±


    Begrudgingly, I swing my feet over the side of the bed. It never made a lot of sense to me how a bad weed could be good. That¡¯s what I am, though. A bad weed, caused by my lunar phase. I¡¯m watched more cautiously, judged more harshly, and, in the case of my family, forgiven too easily. They tend to overcompensate for how I¡¯m viewed outside my fishbowl. Dark phasers get a bad wrap. Earned, I guess. At least it used to be.


    Being special is second nature and altogether common on my dad¡¯s side of the family, for everyone including me. Our gifts are unique and important. I understood this but still feel like running away from it sometimes. Grandpa and Vera know nothing of phaser life. From them, I learn what it means to be human. With them, I¡¯m a special kind of special. There are no expectations, calculations, or stipulations. They love me for me, whatever that is. They¡¯re my escape.


    ¡°And who am I?¡± I¡¯d ask, steel grey eyes settling on his aging face.


    ¡°You know the answer to that better than me,¡± Grandpa would say.


    When my face turned serious, he always laughed, explaining through the words Vera first said to me, ¡°You¡¯re every piece of good passed down from many generations, until the good grew enough to become you.¡±


    Grandpa isn¡¯t a talker, but he never minded repeating those clean, easy statements he heard from the lips of Vera, who¡¯s something more than a great storyteller of Tetrad legends. She carries with her a defined sense of history focusing on generational augmentation, evolution based on birth rites. She gives him peace he didn¡¯t know before her. I want to touch that, take that. It isn¡¯t mine to have. The closest I¡¯ll ever come to amity is being around them for as much time as I possibly can. For the most part, that¡¯s enough.


    On my father¡¯s side of the family, the phasers fill my life with laughter and love and nothing of what the outside world would dream to envision of monstrous myths. I¡¯ve heard many stories, lore and legends, always finding my questions answered when I seek out the truth inside the tales. They don¡¯t lie to me. I¡¯m not sure they could if they wanted to. All great epics are bound by some degree of legitimacy. With me, there¡¯s a lot of trial and error involved in the learning curve. Each phase forward of my life marks history, making new myths. I¡¯m a testament to something not accurately catalogued in phaser record. Something new. Something not meant to exist.


    That¡¯s another reason I run away to Grandpas whenever I can. Having a light earth phaser in close proximity leads to many inspections, trials, charts, and exams, to the point I sometimes feel more like a test subject than a real person, let alone a child. I was never a child. Pete means no harm, and I¡¯m happy to help, just not altogether eager to be an experiment for him. To be fair, he¡¯s the reason I¡¯m so attuned to my two halves, so aware how incredibly different they are from one another. His mate, Rick, is a dark earth phaser, documenting every discovery, along with mitigating the majority of my growing pains. They¡¯re my teachers.


    Walking back to the closet, I stretch down, reaching for a pair of stilettos, which tie in laces up my calves. So. Many. Shoes. For the most part, Grace has practicality in mind. For a long time, I really couldn¡¯t wear the same thing on more than one occasion, rapidly outgrowing everything in my wardrobe. Grace is a spirited light air phaser, easy to love and fun to be around. I assume part of her over-interest has something to do with the fact my presence inhibits the gift she possesses to see the future.


    My future is as unknown to her as it is to me. That makes her curious. She spends hours trying to identify some pattern in my expressions and mannerisms to predict what my next movement will be, using deduction instead of the gift she¡¯s without. I don¡¯t think it ever works out very well. I don¡¯t have the heart to explain I have no idea what I¡¯ll do from one moment to the next, so there¡¯s no way she¡¯ll be able to do that for me.


    At least it provides her with some entertainment. She and the other phasers are all getting antsy to leave. Small town speculations have already made it impossible to lead any type of normal existence. It¡¯s unsafe to stay. It¡¯s time to move on, and I¡¯m holding them back. Normality halted for them while I grew. I¡¯m done growing. Where will they go now? Will I go with them?


    Satisfied with my attire, I move over to the vanity and sit somewhat awkwardly on the stool. It badly needs to be replaced by a larger version, but I can¡¯t seem to let it go. It was a gift from my best friend in the world, a friend who now intentionally avoids me. He¡¯s present, yes, though never so close as he once was. Not for the last three years. Creepy peeping, I call it. Dad¡¯s quick to correct me when I do. He says it¡¯s watchful waiting. I prefer to call a spade a spade. Reaching down, I run my hand along the smooth grooves, each carved curve forming into the beautiful wolves representing him. My distant shadow. My light fire phaser.

 2 – Coming to Terms

    Jack Findlay has been a part of my life since the moment I was born. In fact, he came to snuff me out. Remember what I said about being a bad weed? There¡¯s a reason it¡¯s true. I mean, it¡¯s not true, but as they say, stereotypes exist for a reason. I¡¯m a dark phaser, and dark phasers draw energy from subjectivity sketchy places. Unlike light phasers, who draw energy innately by proximity to their elemental connection (i.e., water from water), dark phasers draw energy from humans. Yeah, stealing someone¡¯s breath away is a legitimate thing for me. Only, I don¡¯t have to for two main reasons. One, I¡¯m still half human. Two, artificial air works just fine. In a pinch, I can feed from an animal, but the retention is substantially less. More of a snack than a meal.


    Right, so Luna messed us up by design, but she also gave us fusion to correct the schism of light and dark. Fusion ordinarily happens at the onset of maturity phase transition. Chosen mates. Ideally, a dark phaser chooses a light phaser of the same element. This creates synergy. The light phaser draws energy innately, sharing it with the dark phaser. I say chosen mates instead of fated mates since sometimes people choose wrong. Unfortunately, the choice can¡¯t be undone. It¡¯s forever. Most people choose for love, some for convenience, a few for hierarchy, and the rest, like me, choose for survival. That¡¯s what I did. To save my own life, I fused with the wolf set on eating me.


    Jack¡¯s a light fire phaser. Fire phasers have one gift¡ªshapeshifting. Where the schism comes into play relates to their ability to control their shift. A light phaser has full control of their shifting. A dark phaser must be commanded to shift. This has led to pack mentality in the fire phaser segment. Pack, pod, herd, whatever. They can become any animal, but their group needs an Alpha leader, who dictates the animal. Jack¡¯s an Alpha. I should probably also explain at this point fire phasers have split off from the other three elements, or they were kicked out rather, because of their strong views about eliminating all dark phasers from existence. Yeah, it¡¯s definitely our fault we had the bad luck to be born when we were. Anyway, that¡¯s a centuries old world problem we aren¡¯t solving today. For now, I¡¯ll condense it to say fire phasers are on one side. Air, earth, and water phasers are on the other. Humans are the river running between us.


    When Jack came to kill me, I fused with him in an effort to save my own life. It worked. He can¡¯t kill me now, being we share a soul or whatever. There¡¯s a mountain of problems with what I did, the obvious one being we¡¯re not of the same element. He can¡¯t in any way feed me energy or vice versa. That doesn¡¯t negate the bind, however. The bind doesn¡¯t care. It¡¯s an enhancement. Not a requirement.


    Worse, had I known what I was signing up for, I may have opted for death. The description I was provided with, after the fact, makes it sound like an arranged marriage no one arranged. Well, I arranged it, except I had no idea I was doing that. The impact was immediate, and it didn¡¯t just affect us. Our families, our friends, they all got sucked into acceptance too. Maybe accepted isn¡¯t the right word. Maybe endured is more accurate. Regardless, fusion is meant to happen after the maturity phase transition. You know, once someone is an adult and can fully seal the mate bond. I¡¯d be lying to say I didn¡¯t spend a few years romanticizing the notion of having my one. It felt oddly comforting knowing no matter my place in life, there was someone there waiting for only me. As I matured and started to experience new feelings, the physical aspect of reciprocated affection was awkwardly terrifying.


    I consider my family, phaser and human alike, in pairs. Mom and Dad, Pete and Rick, Grace and Jarek, Bridget and Sam, Grandpa Miller and Vera. They¡¯re bound and content to be that way, fawning and affectionate toward one another, something different than the lavished attention they all pour equally over me. From the outside looking in, it appears much more intrusive. Borderline invasive. I don¡¯t fancy that. Not yet. In fact, what few free moments I can spend daydreaming, which are ridiculously limited due to lack of privacy, I spend seeking freedom, separation, and silence. I certainly don¡¯t spend them sitting around waiting in wonder to marry Jack Findlay.


    Desperately trying to comb through the bronze curls atop my head, I moan in frustration at the mess of hair. The sound of my voice startles me. In truth, I don¡¯t speak a lot, not with my vocal cords anyway. I have no reason to, what with the projection gig I have going on. When the voice sings out, it¡¯s nearly always a shock to me it¡¯s mine. It changes¡ªchanged¡ªso frequently it isn¡¯t something I ever had a chance to get used to. Small things like my unchanging voice are signs I¡¯m done growing. My bearings will be adjusted soon, and perhaps I can set myself on cruise control for a while, until some sort of balance presents itself.


    My inherited ringlets drape loosely at my waist, unmoved by my futile attempts to untangle them. Defeated, I wind them around themselves, placing them at the back of my head, where I fasten them with a clip straining to contain them. It¡¯s a sophisticated look suiting the day. Soon enough, I¡¯ll be getting it cut. This time, I might not take the scissors and find my scalp, as I did in frustration three years ago. Being nearly bald didn¡¯t bother me as much as it did everyone else. My family viewed the gesture as a short-lived fashion statement instead of pressing me for reasons why I¡¯d do something so foolish. Unsurprisingly, it grew out in record time, which helped me avoid the onslaught of continuously raised eyebrows. Jack didn¡¯t notice, or if he did, he never thought to ask me why I did such a childish thing. That would¡¯ve required him talking to me, resulting in unneeded emotions and embarrassing explanations. The detachment allowed for healthy reflection. For both of us.


    The curl slaying wasn¡¯t done as a type of trend-seeking but as an attempt to cut the fusion ties. A failed attempt. Honestly, I was just hurt and acting out. I wasn¡¯t quite a woman but feeling such strong emotions of longing, it was wildly unbearable. Had I chosen a more opportune time to try the human diet, maybe the phase of puberty wouldn¡¯t have affected me so strongly, so hormonally.


    Food. Huh. That¡¯s different. Strangely, though my brain isn¡¯t quiet, my stomach is. Typically, I wake wanting to chew through the pillow to get to a food source. Even after a nap, I wake up hungry. My appetite fluctuates from starving to famished every waking hour, never levelling. I can¡¯t seem to sate it, the devastating desire to consume. This stems mostly from my body using up its nutrients nearly as fast as my system absorbs them. Human food lingers a bit longer in my digestive tract, trailing through a system designed to thrive on that. Tiny problem there. I can¡¯t stand the taste of it. No matter how many flavours I try, none of them compare to breath bags. It¡¯s like a kid being asked to make a choice between soda and water.


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    I have two choices where nourishment is concerned. I can either fill myself as mortals do, seeking nutritional sustenance from product, or maintain a diet of canned air, which bypasses the need for normal mineral intake. The food allows a cellular process to occur within my blood where it regenerates itself, while canned air directly flushes out the old, replacing it with new. My choice is to recycle or replenish. Like all green go-getters, the recycling option has side effects I find it hard to appreciate. After an extended stint on human food, specific human annoyances rear their ugly heads. Restroom visits. Acne. Menstruation. Weird desires to kiss boys who do not want to be kissed.


    My stint of humanitarianism was short-lived, largely due to another human limitation that came crashing into my heart like a bag of bricks¡ªself-consciousness and doubt. I never would¡¯ve dreamed it possible, not in the way everyone made out the connection to be. It never dawned on me while I was feeling so much like a woman, my form showed only an almost-lady, no more than fourteen. When I tried to show Jack exactly how appreciative I was of his constant vigil, his rejection swept me into a swirl of confusion. When time continued to mark his absence, I realized it was more than physical rejection as a result of my developmental phase. He just didn¡¯t want me.


    After that misfire, my actions were more and more inappropriate. I¡¯d yell, cry, and take faux panic attacks over simple, everyday difficulties. I was acting out. Dramatically. While my mind was full of stop, I couldn¡¯t help but go. My self-restraint was lost somewhere inside pubescence. On a positive note, I added a certain entertainment value breaking the monotonous continuum for my phaser family. My inappropriate behaviour reminded them of a part of themselves they hadn¡¯t seen in centuries. The human part. Just two of them knew how to handle my tantrums. Pretty good odds for me to win whatever I wanted at the time.


    The first contender was my mother. She¡¯s the most recently changed, so when the strangeness occurred in me, human strangeness, Mom remembered most of it with vague detail, trying her best to walk me through what were some personally awkward times. I gave up on human food quickly after that, shaking away those ill effects.


    The second contender, and ultimate winner, was Jarek. He¡¯s a dark water phaser. Of all my family, he has the easiest time dealing with my temper tantrums. Water phasers deal in emotions. Where light water phasers read emotions, dark water phasers manipulate them. When my personality started to shine through, in less than appropriate ways, Jarek formed a bond with me, an understanding and acceptance. Mostly, he was able to talk things through with me, listening to my concerns and calmly showing me another side. Of course, there were times I was beyond reason, so he cheated, using his power to break through my bad mood. It pleased him to be of such a valid and necessary service. It pleased me he cared enough to want to help, especially when I was so often out of line. We have a bond beyond that, though. As the only other dark phaser, requiring the human supplement to replenish our energy, he understands the difficulty we face, generally. The judgment. The caution. The concern.


    When I acted out with the scalping, it was Grace, his mate, who first saw my new hairdo. She would¡¯ve bound my hands together using any means necessary had she seen what was coming. The block between her gift and I is problematic for her. That block, I should add, is a result of my fusion with Jack. She can¡¯t see behind the firewall. The second person I saw was Bridget. Her mouth twitched a tad. Pretty sure I almost won a smile for that one.


    Bridget¡¯s my guardian angel, if angels are ice cold with raven hair. She¡¯s heavy on the side of bitter, longing for what might¡¯ve been, unable to freely step forward knowing what she left behind. I think it has to do with her phase. She¡¯s a light air phaser like Dad and Grace, but where Grace sees the future, Dad sees the present, and Bridget sees the past. Kind of hard to look forward when all you see is what¡¯s behind you.


    When Mom found out she was pregnant, everyone thought she should terminate me, being the gestation was wholly unnatural. Bridget saved my life when she sided with Mom, who was adamant I should live. I¡¯m not judging. The whole scene was messed up. They were right to suggest termination. By the end of the first week, she was looking more than three months along. The fear wasn¡¯t about her being harmed. She did gain some exceptional healing and other side benefits like phasers have, thanks to fusing with Dad. It¡¯s just there was no way to project when I¡¯d make my way into the world. They¡¯d planned for a caesarean birth, theoretically early. That¡¯s how it usually happens, to prevent the negative connotations of dark phasing, but their timing was unfortunately off. I came too early¡­or late¡­however you want to look at it.


    Bridget¡¯s defence of Mom, and subsequently me, was due to her own inability to conceive. Whether the baby was hers or not, it was the closest thing she¡¯d ever come to motherhood. Luna grants pregnancy. It¡¯s an extreme rarity for phasers to be given that gift. In Bridget¡¯s case, it¡¯s impossible. Her mate, Sam, is a light water phaser. Mixed element fusing never results in moon babies.


    Come to think of it, my entire family is something of a band of fusion misfits. Of the lot, Rick and Pete are the only ones who did what was expected of them. Pete¡¯s a light earth phaser, while Rick¡¯s the corresponding dark earth. Everyone else? Nonstandard fusions. Maybe that¡¯s why they¡¯ve become their own tribe. They didn¡¯t really fit in anywhere else. Me? I took the misfit all the way to level ten, fusing with the enemy.


    Lifting myself from the stool, I walk over to the full-length mirror to admire myself. I don¡¯t look anything like Rory. Rory¡¯s gone. I¡¯m Aurora Willows. My body holds the truth of maturity in every curve. I¡¯m no longer the little girl, the child. I¡¯m a woman, from my perfectly plump lips to my stilettos. I¡¯ve grown. That process is complete whether I, or any of them, want to admit it. Staring at the beautiful woman¡¯s reflection, I feel tears well up at the corners of my eyes for the loss of a youth, too soon gone by. I wanted nothing more than for this day to come. Now it¡¯s here, and I want to rewind the clock. I¡¯m not ready.


    The knocking makes me shudder. It¡¯s not coming from the door. No one¡¯s here to shake me out of my confused state, as they¡¯ve been every day for the last decade. No one¡¯s here to hear the thoughts in my mind or read the expressions on my face, overstepping private boundaries. No one¡¯s here to overextend my personal limits by instantly rushing in to soothe away all my emotions before they rocket out of control. No one¡¯s here to talk me out of absolute insanity. I asked them not to be, made them promise to see me from this day forward as an equal. An adult. They¡¯ve picked a very inconvenient time to start listening to me, or was it the perfect time? I¡¯m alone. The rapping sounds are coming from my knees crashing together with enough force that if they were a hundred percent human knees, they¡¯d have shattered already. In chorus, my chattering teeth chime in, clanking together in a way actually causing my mouth pain. Now that my movements are mine, and I have full range of motion melded with mind, it¡¯s time to figure myself out. I¡¯m all grown up. What a terrifying thing.

 3 – Conditional Attendance

    The fresh air on my walk to the main house fills my lungs with nature. Trees crowd in to comfort me, branches brushing my arms as I pass, encouraging me onward. I step cautiously, not wanting my heels to sink in the earth below. There¡¯s a rustle in the leaves behind me. Instinctively, I sniff the air, annoyed the creature is downwind, so I can¡¯t scent which one it is. It isn¡¯t my phasers. They can be trusted to fulfill their end of the bargain. My guaranteed attendance to this birthday party had specific conditions.


    Grace was the only one to argue my wishes. She wanted to embellish with a childlike theme one more year. Helium Hysterics was one of my favourites. Everyone had to speak in a high pitched voice the entire night. It was amusing, to say the least. That was my first birthday party, the beginning of a ritual she delighted over each year after. Grace has a way of getting everyone involved, whether they want to participate or not. When manipulation and bribery won¡¯t work, threats are effective.


    Again, the nearly inaudible shifting of undergrowth comes from behind me. ¡°Creepy peepers,¡± I grumble.


    Not waiting for a response, I pick up my pace. Whoever it is doesn¡¯t matter. It¡¯s not Jack. It¡¯s one or another of his little minions sent to do his bidding. In the last three years, I¡¯ve spoken to him once in human form. It was a brief altercation, void of personal connection. Totally business professional. I let him think I¡¯m oblivious to his constant vigil. If he wanted me to see him, to know he¡¯s still watching, he¡¯d make it apparent. Maintaining the distance between us says far more than words ever could. Sad fact, if I asked for closer contact, he¡¯d give it. Sadder fact, I won¡¯t. Punishing myself by being without him is the only thing I can do to apologize for what I stole from him. His freedom.


    Relationship status: it¡¯s complicated. Fusion is complex. It should be an easy matter of all life¡¯s forces shifting, and when they do, tunnel vision has the fused seeing nothing but the fuser, sewn by a million invisible, invincible threads. Obviously, it isn¡¯t so simple. If the puppeteer is unable to move the marionette, the cords hang motionless, rotting. My fire phaser is fighting against the connection. The battle won¡¯t last forever, yet I have no desire to be second best when the big, bad wolf finally stops trying to rival Luna. After all, I¡¯m not the one who was fused. As the fuser, I do have a choice. I don¡¯t have to settle for anything. It¡¯s my future. I won¡¯t live it for anyone else.


    ¡°Rory,¡± calls a voice from behind me. ¡°Wait up.¡±


    Tessa¡¯s in Jack¡¯s pack. Because of that, she knows everything about me Jack knows and vice versa. Wolves hold no secrets. The pack mind is completely united, a by-product of his fusion to me. At least he got something out of it. We¡¯ve formed a strong friendship, to everyone¡¯s surprise. Tessa despises phasers. Since I¡¯m half, no one understands why she¡¯s drawn to me. I¡¯m not suspicious. Sure, I can¡¯t tell her anything I don¡¯t want repeated, but that¡¯s expected. Accepted. She isn¡¯t deliberately reporting my every move to Jack. She doesn¡¯t have a choice. We have that in common. Our bond stems more, in my opinion, from the fact I¡¯m the only other person she can confide in who happens to have fourteen chromosomes. I sympathize with her. Like me, she has no one to share her pain.


    She slows her run when she catches up to me. ¡°Someone thought I needed an escort?¡± I ask glumly. Jack doesn¡¯t enjoy me gallivanting through the forest unprotected.


    ¡°Sorry,¡± she mutters.


    Tessa¡¯s never tried to lie to me. I sincerely appreciate that. Her bitter fa?ade fades in my presence, like she can be open about how she¡¯s feeling since it won¡¯t matter to her whether I think she¡¯s tough or mean or sad. There¡¯s no need to put up a formidable guard.


    ¡°I genuinely wanted to come,¡± she throws in.


    I believe her, but it still annoys me certain people can¡¯t stand back enough to let nature take its course. Instead of it being a gesture of friendship, it¡¯s been warped into some territorial desire to protect that¡¯s weird and unwanted.


    Tessa furrows her brow. ¡°How was your day?¡±


    ¡°It was¡­quiet,¡± I admit.


    She sighs dreamily. We both feel the same sense of intrusion, on different levels. In her wolf pack, Tessa has no private thoughts. Every single thing she feels and sees is thrust upon the others. Resentment helps her hold some stuff back. Sometimes she¡¯s able to go days without the boys picking up on anything other than the snarky commentary she throws their way. It¡¯s the same with Dad. He hears everything in my mind. Tessa has something of an advantage, though. Not only can they hear her mind, but their thoughts and feelings belong to her as well. So, while the struggle continues, it¡¯s two-sided, a glass wall allowing them to work as a team. One joined unit. I can¡¯t read minds. My air ability doesn¡¯t work like that. Mine is a giving talent. A one-sided mirror reflecting back all I see. Is anything ever truly one-sided? I¡¯m guessing not, seeing as Jack twisted the gift to his advantage. Can I take something? If so, what would it be?


    When we break through the trees, Tessa stops abruptly, wrinkling her nose at the smell she still hasn¡¯t gotten used to.


    You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.


    I laugh. ¡°That bad, eh?¡±


    She fake gags. ¡°The worst.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t mind me,¡± I offer.


    ¡°You¡¯re different because¡ª¡± She stops herself short.


    ¡°Because Jack,¡± I remark.


    ¡°Sorry,¡± she commiserates.


    I lift a challenging brow. ¡°Want to make it up to me by coming inside?¡±


    She snorts derisively. I know she won¡¯t. No matter how much time passes, she just can¡¯t fight the feelings she has about the trigon phasers. That¡¯s what the fire phasers call us. Trigons. It¡¯s stupid. Trigon is a proper noun. A place. Not an adjective. They don¡¯t call themselves fire phasers anymore. They refer to themselves as shifters, driven by two phases of the moon. New moon shifters are dark fire phasers, while full moon shifters are light fire phasers. Tessa¡¯s a new moon shifter. She needs the pack to shift. That¡¯s why she stays, despite being unhappy with her lot. The history and purpose of her being won¡¯t allow her to evolve her thinking, even though she, herself, is dark. Same as me.


    My birth forced this truce. A treaty exists as a formality. My phaser family considers the wolves a new branch of supernatural friends, ones they can trust. For the wolves, they trust the phasers as individuals, but not as a whole. As for dark phasers, they¡¯re hunted. Exterminated like vermin. Shifters vehemently hate phasers. More than hate. Is there something bigger than hate? Detest? Loathe? Yes to all that. Hatred as big as their hypocrisy, seeing as they¡¯re phasers themselves.


    The hatred stems from wanting to protect humans. Our group doesn¡¯t feed from humans anyway. Rick¡¯s fused to Pete, so there¡¯s no need. That leaves me and Jarek. Jarek¡¯s fused to Grace. Again, theirs is a fusion mismatch. Jarek¡¯s a dark water phaser. He can ingest tears, spit...any bodily fluid in a pinch. Bagged blood. Actually, that works for me too. I just find it gross. While ours isn¡¯t a strong friendship, there¡¯s an understanding between us. I stand in the eye of the storm. Maybe I am the storm. Yeah, I¡¯m absolutely the storm. No contest.


    Other phasers like us exist, though they¡¯re few and far between. There¡¯s no easy way to tell them apart from us. Light and dark is simple enough. Light contains white flecks in the iris, whereas dark contains black flecks. Elements are also easy. Grey for air, green for earth, blue for water, and red for fire. Except, fire looks more burnt orange unless they¡¯ve shifted into animal form, then it becomes bright red.


    Light fire phasers replenish energy via the direct element, same as every other light phaser. Dark fire phasers¡­well, they don¡¯t feed from humans. They feed from us. Or any phaser really, even from their own element. Technically, they can feed from any energy. Plants. Animals. Human food. They¡¯re basically goats. I don¡¯t mean greatest of all time, either. That¡¯s why packs are so important. Along with controlling the shift, they feed the beasts who¡¯d otherwise consume us all.


    The truce is in their best interest too. The Trinity may give us the stink-eye for toeing their lines, but mostly they don¡¯t interfere in our day to day life. If a wolf pack starts eating a bunch of phasers, it¡¯d definitely grab their attention, inviting complications. That¡¯s not to say there have never been complications. My birth was a big, fat one. They brought an intimidating group to challenge us over it. Sorry. My bad. They weren¡¯t challenging us. They were curious. They wanted to ensure there was no threat, me being the threat in all my infantile ferocity. Me, the wee babe who couldn¡¯t even coax my fingers to flip the suckers off. Seriously menacing. Needless to say, they did not feel threatened, so they skittered off back to Trigon content I posed no danger.


    ¡°Happy Birthday, Rory,¡± Tessa whispers, making for the trees. There¡¯s silence, then rustling, before she phases back into the forest. Alone at the edge of the lawn, I wish she¡¯d have walked me to the door. Had she stayed another few seconds, I¡¯d have begged her to come inside with me. She probably knew that, hence the bolting. Smart dog.


    I legitimately don¡¯t want to face everyone. I don¡¯t know what they¡¯ll say, what they expect. The last decade has led up to this one moment, the moment of my adulthood. What now? Will they fake cry, throw confetti, breathe a sigh of relief I¡¯ve made it so they can all stop worrying it¡¯ll happen?


    Last year was projected to mark this closure. Nope. I had another year in me. The advancement crept along slowly. Not nearly so dramatic as in the beginning, but progressing still. A tapering sort of growth. At first, there was a lot of panic I¡¯d be geriatric by now, causing everyone to hover too closely. So close, in fact, I was convinced I¡¯d be smothered by the attention. Having personal boundaries is a luxury I went without. While the growth slowed, and has finally stopped, the hovering did not. Time to nip that bad habit in the bud.


    I¡¯m thankful Tessa walked with me. Had I been alone to stew in my thoughts, I would¡¯ve bailed before making it to the house. Annoying or not, Jack was right to send her, even if he¡¯s too drool-minded to acknowledge she¡¯d have come on her own. As Alpha, his brain works mechanically, full of tactical and revised plans. I¡¯m his backup plan. If he can¡¯t figure out how to break the binding, he¡¯ll settle for me. Guess what? I¡¯m not sitting around waiting for it to happen.


    Tonight, I¡¯ll tell them all. I¡¯m not sure where I¡¯ll go, but it has to be somewhere far, far away. I need some me time without all the confusing connections. I need to be somewhere without expectations, without my guilt or emotions making my decisions for me. I need some freedom. Some fresh air. They can no longer make me stay, yet I¡¯m tethered by my love and inability to go against their wishes. I don¡¯t want to hurt them. As a child, a minor, I felt an obligation to maintain my place and respect them as much as any rebellious teenager might respect their parents. While I was never a regular human, restricted by typical immaturity, I did look like a child. As an adult, I can take my leave without so many lies required. I need to start by being open with my family, telling them how I feel. I need to give them the honesty they¡¯ve consistently given me. It¡¯s time for me to get gone.


    By the time I realize how close I am to the house, it¡¯s too late to shake away the thoughts. How stupid could I be? Every thought in my head was being shared for the last fifteen minutes. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. I clench my fists tightly at my sides. He was listening. He always listens. Everyone in the house will know my plans now. What will they say? Will they agree with me? Will they try to stop me? Chain me up in the basement? Yeah, no. That one¡¯s out. There¡¯s no basement in the main house or our cabin. Guilt. Luna help me, they¡¯re going to slap the guilt shackles on me.

 4 – Celebratory Detachment

    Struggling with my emotions, I start up the steps. Maybe Dad kept quiet. It¡¯s not like he enjoys rifling around in my head. Who would? It¡¯s fairly cluttered up there. He¡¯s respectful about it. If I don¡¯t want to talk through things, he doesn¡¯t mention them. If I didn¡¯t already know he could pick through my brain, I wouldn¡¯t guess he could.


    Anxiously, I put my hand on the knob. I¡¯m about to find out just how much information I gave away and how many people aside from Dad know my plans. Way to go, Rory. Score one for your first mature act. Trying to plug the outpouring of my mind, I push open the door.


    Tension nearly shuts it back against me. Oh, they know, without a doubt. The phasers present are sitting in their usual positions in the living room, trying to maintain composure. They¡¯re too relaxed, too controlled. Biting my lip, I survey the attendees, preparing myself for the accusations and feelings of betrayal.


    Sam sits, eyes focused on the television screen. His left hand holds the remote control, which he clicks rapidly, the channels shifting from one sporting event to another. His right hand twitches under Bridget¡¯s strong grip. Surprisingly, the sound of breaking bones doesn¡¯t echo through the silence. He¡¯s a trooper. Doesn¡¯t even flinch.


    Pete and Rick stand, forcing smiles onto their quivering lips. Neither speaks. Pete opens his mouth once, but nothing comes out. Rick drapes his arm around his shoulder, in a gesture of comfort. I¡¯m pretty sure Bridget¡¯s burning a hole through their backs, so I¡¯m glad they¡¯re blocking her line of sight.


    I notice Tommy Stanton at the kitchen counter, helping himself to refreshments meant only for him. He¡¯s the youngest full moon shifter in Jack¡¯s pack and the friendliest. He¡¯s Tessa¡¯s little brother, sort of making him my brother too. It doesn¡¯t bother him in the slightest to surround himself with stinking phasers. Our phaser mascot. He¡¯s obviously oblivious to what just transpired moments before my arrival. Good. I need some back up. While blissful ignorance isn¡¯t much help, it¡¯ll do for now. As I turn to move in his direction, eight eyes beat into my back. Mouths are still opting out of breaking the awkward silence. They don¡¯t have to say anything. I can pretty easily pick up it won¡¯t be an easy night, but I did come, right? That has to count for something.


    Grace disrupts the crickets first, skipping in from the back door. ¡°Rory¡­Aurora, such a pleasure to see you,¡± she starts. Her voice is strained, like something¡¯s squeezing her windpipe. I cautiously smile when she leans forward to kiss me once on each cheek. There¡¯s no gentle hug. No excited commentary about her approval of my attire. The greeting is definitely lacking Grace.


    For the first time, I look around the room, noticing how much effort she put into subtly decorating for the night. Several vases are filled with flowers in varying shades of blue. Hyacinths, Hydrangea, and Delphiniums perfume the vicinity. Veronica laces all free surfaces. From behind her back, Grace pulls out a bracelet meant for me, made from Forget-Me-Nots. My smile wavers as she slips it over my wrist.


    A warm sensation floods my body when Jarek touches my cheek. I¡¯m glad he intervened before the pooling tears spilled over. He works his way around the room, a simple touch providing a warm and welcome shift in the tense atmosphere. While it¡¯s not a permanent solution, it¡¯s nice to be given the chance to explain my side of things, to defend myself. I don¡¯t expect anyone to turn on Dad. I just want to be heard through a voice I rarely use. If that doesn¡¯t work, I¡¯ll project my perspective. Honestly, I¡¯d prefer acceptance without cheating my way to the ultimate goal. My projections are far too persuasive.


    They¡¯ve all played roles in my life. Jarek my counselor, Grace my inspiration, Bridget my confidence, Sam my bodyguard, and Rick and Pete my educators. Each member of my phaser family has had a specific place in helping me reach adulthood. The logical course forward is for me to find my place. I can¡¯t do that when I¡¯m so swept up in everything they already are to me. I can¡¯t find my way unless I stop seeking direction from the people around me. I can¡¯t tag along anymore. I¡¯m not content with only that. The future holds too many opportunities to let them slide by because I¡¯m too scared to seek them out.


    When I feel myself getting worked up again, nerves shooting through the calm, another flood of warmth washes through me. Jarek stands close by in case I need him again. Smart. I undoubtedly will.


    When he walks in, the idle chatter stops. She walks beside him, anger flickering in her eyes. Swallowing hard, I force a smile. They¡¯re a menacing pair, beautiful beyond belief. Mom wears her emotion like a badge, lip lifting to sneer at me. Dad¡¯s more cryptic. I can¡¯t tell if he¡¯s upset or counting down to an emotional apocalypse. Their steps come in slow motion. I contemplate making a run for it.


    Jarek takes my hand in his. Grace mimics his movement on my left side. I wonder, with them holding my weight, how I managed to stand on my own two feet before that. Are they protecting me or providing me moral support? Do they genuinely think I¡¯ll be physically attacked?


    Cringing, I clock the pained look in Dad¡¯s eyes. Sorry, that was a low blow. They¡¯d never hurt me, whether I deserve it or not. If I¡¯m proving my readiness to fly solo, standing here cowering isn¡¯t the way to do it. Flanked by two people I love gives me strength enough to solidify my wobbly knees. Taking a step forward, the hands on either side of mine release their steadying grip, and I meet my parents as an equal. Whatever they say, I¡¯m ready for the rebuttal. However they want to argue their case, I¡¯ll diplomatically counter with mine. Regardless of any unforeseen emotion, I¡¯ll be compassionate yet firm. They won¡¯t make me stay. I know that. I see it in Mom¡¯s instantaneous mood swing, the way her lips move from a sneer to a quiver as my parents stop to stand in front of me. The three of us realize simultaneously it isn¡¯t their allowance I¡¯m looking for. It¡¯s their blessing.


    ¡°Happy eighteenth birthday, Aurora,¡± Dad murmurs in a voice smooth as silk.


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    Although in literal terms it¡¯s only been ten years, this was one of my attendance conditions. Acknowledgement of human adulthood. His voice doesn¡¯t waver, doesn¡¯t show any sign of hidden emotion. Maybe he¡¯s given up quicker than I anticipated. Maybe this evening can be one of celebration after all. A pleasant goodbye without a theatrical performance. He flinches. Nope. Not getting off that easy. ¡°Thank you, Father,¡± I reply curtly. ¡°It feels like it took me forever to get here.¡±


    ¡°Not nearly long enough,¡± Mom remarks. ¡°I hope you enjoyed your day.¡± She frowns. ¡°Alone.¡±


    She¡¯s assuming the alone time resulted in this decision to flee the nest. Wrong. This isn¡¯t a split second decision. It¡¯s been coming for a while. That¡¯s basically the apex of this whole problem. I need room to spread my wings. This is far too important. Once I¡¯ve chosen, I can¡¯t change my mind. Human or phaser. One or the other for the rest of my life. ¡°It allowed for necessary reflection,¡± I return cautiously.


    ¡°Oh?¡± She feigns surprise. ¡°Please tell me, if you don¡¯t mind, what decisions you¡¯ve made in your newfound adulthood?¡±


    Dad shifts a bit, uncomfortable over the way the conversation is going full speed ahead. He¡¯d have been fine with waiting for the discussion. His clenched jaw is on track to break his teeth into a million tiny pieces.


    ¡°You know already,¡± I mutter. ¡°He didn¡¯t let me explain myself before telling you.¡±


    Dad remains silent. In fact, everyone¡¯s grown silent. Even Tommy¡¯s stopped chewing, standing in the kitchen with his mouth partly open. Aware of the audience, Dad smiles tightly, trying to minimize the spectacle I¡¯m about to make of myself. A swarm of voices are buzzing through his hive, but he hides it admittedly well.


    ¡°Perhaps we should take this conversation to a more private venue,¡± he suggests, hand gesturing toward the front door.


    ¡°Why?¡± I spit defiantly, my voice rising a decibel level. ¡°This conversation affects everyone here. You¡¯ll just go off and tell them everything that happens anyway. They may as well get fresh news!¡±


    I feel the warmth again, a surge more forceful than the previous two times Jarek initiated the flow through me. I shake his hand off my shoulder. He nods once, and the pull lifts, but I know he won¡¯t be far in case things get out of hand, as they have a tendency to do with me. Folding my arms across my chest, I prepare for the onslaught of arguments. Possibly bribes or threats. The pleading will come last. While it¡¯ll be the most difficult to pass, it¡¯s the final stage before acceptance.


    When Mom opens her mouth to speak again, Dad interrupts by pulling her hand to his lips. She can¡¯t maintain focus when he touches her. Their love is an endless love, stronger than any desire, any craving that exists. No need is greater than being together. They¡¯ll still have each other, even if I slip from the triangle for a spell. Maybe it won¡¯t take an argument. Maybe a decision has already been made, and they were preparing for acceptance all along, knowing this moment was inevitable. It isn¡¯t a permanent goodbye. It¡¯s only for a short time. They have forever. We have the rest of my life. I was foolish to worry over telling them. It¡¯s going to be fine. Sighing in relief, I feel the knots slowly work their way out of my stomach.


    ¡°You misunderstand,¡± Dad interjects. ¡°You won¡¯t have our blessing.¡±


    My head tilts to the side. The fear shifting to relief shifts to confusion. How can I not have their blessing? What more is there to argue? He didn¡¯t say don¡¯t. He said won¡¯t, meaning never. Can he not see my side? Does he not know how incredibly important this is? Not just for me. For everyone.


    ¡°You¡¯re not ready,¡± he argues.


    He¡¯s speaking and not listening. What good does it do to invade my head if he isn¡¯t actually hearing what I¡¯m saying? Acknowledging what I¡¯m feeling?


    ¡°I was born ready,¡± I bark at him.


    While I openly admit body and mind have some meshing to do, that¡¯s the point of this detachment. I need to remove myself from my surroundings so I can be whole. I can¡¯t spend any more of my life fighting between the human and phaser side. It¡¯s tearing me apart at the seams. I have to figure out who I want to be, what I want to be. Is it really so hard to accept?


    I feel my temperature rise another degree, prepping to raise my voice again when he calmly repeats, ¡°You will not have our blessing.¡±


    I growl. Tommy whimpers from the kitchen, rushing toward the back door. ¡°That¡¯s right!¡± I roar after him. ¡°Go run to your Jack. You¡¯ll be disappointed to find out he gives zero shits whether I stay or go!¡±


    ¡°Aurora Mack Willows!¡± Mom snaps in a completely parental tone. Yeah, maybe I¡¯m not altogether keen on going with a change from Rory to Aurora. That made my ears ring.


    ¡°You can¡¯t make me stay here.¡±


    Keeping a firm grip on Mom¡¯s hand, Dad stands his ground, countering coolly, ¡°No one¡¯s making you stay, Aurora. You¡¯re an adult now. The choice is yours.¡±


    He pulled this same garbage on Mom when she wanted him to fuse with her. He said she was too young. He wanted her to experience more of her human life first. He claimed waiting was a compromise, but it wasn¡¯t. It was his way of controlling everything around him. Feeling my body begin to shake lightly, he¡¯s hitting all the right nerves. I need to show him why I have to do this. I need to show him why I can¡¯t continue to exist without this chance. I won¡¯t go without their blessing. He knows that and is using it against me. When Jarek messes with my emotions, he isn¡¯t cagey about it. It¡¯s a frontal assault. Appreciated. Dad? He likes to sneak up from behind with his guilt shackles at the ready. Not appreciated.


    GET OUT OF MY HEAD!


    He flinches. Mom¡¯s looking at him now, getting a second-hand relay. She gasps, her eyes flitting back and forth between us. I wasn¡¯t supposed to be the one losing control. I was prepared to soothe and coddle my parents when they gave in to me, as they typically do. Threatening wasn¡¯t on my set list, particularly since I should¡¯ve outgrown such childish behaviour. But here we are.


    ¡°You will give me your blessing,¡± I hiss, ¡°or it¡¯ll be as if I never existed.¡±


    Mom shudders at his side. The others begin whispering in hushed, shocked tones, contemplating my meaning. Even though I¡¯m controlled in this moment by a pure sense of rage, I won¡¯t hurt them more than that one sentence. My father, however, needs to hear the rest.


    I¡¯ve tried explaining why you need to let me leave, yet you refuse to listen. You¡¯ve made your choice. Now I¡¯ll make mine. I won¡¯t project thoughts you already hear. What I will tell you is what can be given, can be taken away. If I can put my thoughts in your head, in their heads, I can take them out too. Don¡¯t make me.


    My father falls silent. He won¡¯t share this one with Mom. Not here. I cut him to the bone. He needs some time to weigh out the possibilities. Time to decide if the threat is idle or not. Could I alter someone¡¯s thought process to that degree? Take away their memories? Would I if I could? I¡¯m not sure, and neither is he, but if there¡¯s a fraction of a chance, it¡¯s too great a risk.


    Jarek and Grace aren¡¯t looking at me when I stride past them toward the door. No one is. They¡¯re all looking at Dad, and how his heart, if it could beat, would explode from his chest, impaling every phaser in the room. His mouth is slack. His mind has fallen someplace beyond death, into a thick, black pit of despair. My victory is hollow, but it¡¯s a victory, nonetheless. They won¡¯t have a choice now. They¡¯ll give me their blessing. All of them. Being without me temporarily is a far lesser pain than never knowing I existed.

 5 – Return to Sender

    This is just great. Jack got a pack pal mental link from the fusion. What did I get? A fiery temper. Sure, let¡¯s go ahead and blame him. Perfectly sensible way to redirect the guilt train from my epic overreaction.


    My journey back to the cabin comes with a pace similar to speed walkers¡­on speed, I guess. Kneeling down, I rip the shoes from my feet, driving the heels into a poor, unsuspecting tree along my path. The laces drift in the breeze, tiny hands reaching out desperately for assistance. I¡¯m too swept up in my anger to feel badly for the Pine, almost glad whenever they come home, they¡¯ll pass by it. Maybe they won¡¯t come. Maybe they¡¯ll leave me alone to sulk or calm down, while the whole household decides whether or not my threats were idle. Were they idle? Can I do this unimaginable thing? Will I follow through with it if I can?


    Pete¡¯s not the only one capable of science experiments. I plan to try one of my own. What harm could it do, removing something small, something insignificant? I¡¯ll weigh out each prospect. Test outcomes. This potentiality is as fresh to me as it is to them. There are a lot of things I¡¯ll need to work out before I wield it as a weapon. An idle threat will become a promise. They¡¯ll have to listen to me then.


    Look, I don¡¯t want to hurt them. I love them all too much to truly want to hurt them, no matter how annoyed I am, but why should I limit myself to delicate avenues of persuasion? They¡¯re forgetting a key point, an indisputable fact. It¡¯s my life. Darn right, I¡¯ll fight for it. If I have to fight dirty to win, do I have any other choice?


    Sad fact, no one¡¯s coming willingly within gripping distance now. For the first time, my family won¡¯t trust me to show them anything, too afraid of what I¡¯ll take away. Good. They deserve a healthy dose of fear. I¡¯m not fulfilling my hopes and dreams by living vicariously through them. Perhaps their peace is my peace, but I need the chance to explore that, to come to terms with it away from them.


    Right, so the phasers are out as test subjects. I need to expand my selection criteria. I could try it on Grandpa or Vera. Tessa or Tommy might participate too. If all else fails, there¡¯s plenty of stray humans. It doesn¡¯t have to be someone who suspects me. Realistically, a stranger would be the trickiest candidate. Secrecy is foremost. If I¡¯m unsuccessful, I¡¯d have to kill someone. That doesn¡¯t sit well with my stomach. I¡¯m not a killer.


    If it doesn¡¯t work, then what? I won¡¯t run away. They¡¯ll just chase after me. If not them, Jack will unleash the hounds. There¡¯s no way they¡¯ll let me out of their sight for long. While they¡¯re working on their game plan, they¡¯ll be watching extra closely too. Vanishing isn¡¯t happening, especially with creepy peepers dogging my steps.


    This would be a lot easier if not for that blessing. I want it. Need it. Maybe they just need a little time. I can do a little time, right? Yeah, I¡¯m restless and raring to go, but what harm could come from waiting another week. Two tops. If I haven¡¯t changed their minds by then, I¡¯ll have to go without their blessing. Simple as that.


    His scent attacks my nostrils when I reach the door. My already accelerated heart rate picks up its pace. His smell is always present in the woods by the cabin. Sometimes by my window. Never stale, never so close as my doorstep, and never, not once over the last three years, in human form. This is a big deal. Epic, proportionately. The scent embracing my senses is that of the man. Not the wolf. The difference is subtle. His wolf smells like campfire, generally. Bonfire when it¡¯s mad. A warm fireplace on a cool evening, snuggled up under a blanket as you watch the flames dance, when it¡¯s happy. This scent? It¡¯s freshly chopped wood. No, it¡¯s sawdust. Glorious sawdust. My fingers rip at the door handle. Not in anger. In anticipation.


    Moving swiftly through the house, I inhale deeply. The scent strengthens as I progress. My thudding heart skids to a halt when I find my room empty. Of course he isn¡¯t here. Why would he be? His scent remains, mixed now with oak and stain. Flipping on the light, I sniff hard. This time, it¡¯s to prevent a leak. I wipe my eyes to clear them, reaching for the carefully folded note waiting patiently for me on my new chair. A solid wood replacement for the childhood version he crafted years ago. My fingers trail along the wolves dancing across the seat. This one has a back. Chiselled in striking calligraphy is my name. Aurora. I¡¯ve never seen anything more beautiful. It marks an understanding. A shift from child to adult. What does accepting my growth mean for him? For me? For us?


    Dear Aurora,


    I hope you like this gift.


    Can I talk to you before you go?


    Jack


    I sit numbly for a while, staring blanks at the paper. I must read it twenty times searching for hidden meaning. I do like the gift. How could I not? It¡¯s extraordinary. Clearly, it took him a great deal of time and patience to make. The latter for him would¡¯ve been the hardest. Jack has a fuse shorter than mine, which is really saying something. To be fair, I don¡¯t know anything about him now. Three years is a long time, particularly for a light fire phaser¡­a full moon shifter. Either. Or. Fire isn¡¯t meant to idle. He¡¯s bound to have changed. Same as I have.


    Pain slinks unbidden into my chest, snaking mercilessly around my heart. Constricting. What I did three years ago, what I tried to force on Jack, was somehow worse than the initial fusion. I understand why he bailed on me. He was hoping the distance would absolve the bond. Maybe it did, though I can¡¯t imagine he¡¯d still be creepy peeping if that were the case.


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    What exactly does he want to talk to me about? Honestly, that sentence alone should have me doing giddy cartwheels across my stone floor. It doesn¡¯t. Before you go indicates acceptance of my choice. He wants to say goodbye. Leave it to Jack to be the only person in my family not to fight me on this. Why would he? This is him winning his freedom. It gives him an out. He¡¯s the one person I want to beg me to stay. The one person I¡¯d stay for. He¡¯d rather I go.


    Crumpling the paper in my fist, I draw my hand to my chest, letting the pain grow. Each beat of my heart becomes a blade slicing through my veins. The shearing cuts work their way to my stomach, then spread out to my arms and legs. The fresh sting of rejection has me remembering the first time he didn¡¯t want me. Who knew the second time would be equally painful?


    I breathe out steadily, releasing every bit of air from my lungs, beginning my calming exercises. I will not hyperventilate.


    Inhale slowly through my nose. 1. 2. 3. 4.


    Hold my breath. Focus on counting. Nothing else. 1. 2. 3. 4.


    Exhale with purpose, air out the mouth. 1. 2. 3. 4.


    Pause and hold for the final count. 1. 2. 3. 4.


    After a few repetitions, I straighten the paper, moving it to the vanity counter. My penmanship is shaky, the tingling in my fingers making it hard to write. It has to be done quickly because even my box breathing won¡¯t save me this time. I¡¯m about to suffocate myself straight into unconsciousness. Lightheaded as I am, will I make it to the bed?


    Jack,


    The chair is great.


    I have nothing to say to you.


    Sincerely,


    Aurora


    I fold the paper, forming it into an airplane. After rubbing it across my hair, I open the window, heaving it as far as possible. It drifts out of view into the surrounding trees. Good job, me.


    The pressure in my heart seems to expand with each beat. I dig my fingers into the sill to keep from crying out. It migrates from my chest to my lungs, combusting into a roaring fire when I catch the scent of something more appealing than my anger or sadness. Jerking myself through the window, I follow the hypnotic smell.


    I¡¯m only a kilometre into the woods when I see the dog. A giant Italian Mastiff. Its pitch black colouring matches the night. The hair on its back lifts, a growl bubbling up its throat. Its bleeding, which is what caught my attention. I may not like the taste of blood, but my energy well has different ideas. It wants the energy saturating the air around us.


    Somewhere in the back of my mind, I try to rationalize what I¡¯m doing. Taking this energy will help calm me. It¡¯ll garner me control enough to evacuate the scene prior to the owner finding the dog. It¡¯s hurt. Might die anyway. If my emotions weren¡¯t a hot mess, walking away wouldn¡¯t be a struggle for me.


    The dog growls louder when I kneel beside it, placing my palms on its chest. It waited too long to bite me. Not that biting me would do it any good. Nor will the paws and claws struggling to get free succeed. I¡¯m too strong. From my palms, the extraction needles first pierce my skin before burrowing deep. There¡¯s a quiet yelp, followed by even quieter whimpers, then nothing. The only sound remaining is the slight slurping noise coming from my palm straws as I drain it to dregs.


    I stand to survey the damage, wiping my hands on the dress. Yeah, there¡¯s a bigger problem here than my ruined dress. What I missed in my rush for relief was the man, who must be the owner, standing frozen downwind of me. When our eyes meet, his grow wider, glowing in the moonlight from all the exposed white. He¡¯s paralyzed. His horror shakes me to my core. I caused that. My bad.


    I¡¯ve gotten myself into some trouble. I¡¯m supposed to eliminate any witnesses. I won¡¯t let my loss of control harm my family. They¡¯ve worked too hard to mask their presence to have me ruining everything. That leaves me two choices. Either I try to use my gift to remove the memory, or I kill him. Easy pick. Memory wipe. Hands down.


    A surge of pity washes through me as I draw closer. His body is shaking violently. I could just snap his neck here and now. Throw him over the ravine. A hiking accident. He tripped over some unseen rock in the dark. Poor soul lost his dog and was searching for it in the middle of the night. A tragedy. No, this doesn¡¯t need to have that kind of ending. I can fix this. I can strip his memory.


    Tentatively, I place my palms on his cheeks, letting my gift project into him. His heart is beating almost as rapidly as mine. Once the visions work their way into his brain, confusion clouds his sight. I explore the channel I¡¯ve formed, searching for the end connecting to his mind. When I stop my projection, the tube remains, hollow now. I try blowing into the empty channel like a water hose, hoping for reverse flow. Nothing. No change. My gift is a giving one. It doesn¡¯t work in reverse. I groan in frustration. I¡¯m drawing a blank. Blanks. That¡¯s it. I¡¯ll shoot blanks. While I can¡¯t take the memories, perhaps I can overwrite them. A blank canvas.


    When I extend my gift again, reaching the end of the channel, I touch the closest memory. I see me seeing him, my eyes as wide as his. From this perspective, outside looking in, it¡¯s like images on a touch screen. I can move them forward or backward, rearrange them, but not delete them. I start firing blanks, overwriting them with nothing. His shaking slows gradually until it stops completely.


    Thankfully, I¡¯m not hearing words. The images are bad enough. I see me hovering over the poor dog, feeding from it. I blank it out. The further back I scroll, the harder it is to stop. I see the man chasing after the dog through the darkness, stumbling more than once. Blank. The dog breaking free of the leash and running into the forest. Blank. The man walking the dog. Blank. The dog growing from a puppy. Blank. The man getting the puppy. Blank. I¡¯m taking more than is necessary. This is far, far more than mental intrusion. This is invasion, yet I can¡¯t stop. I¡¯m compelled to continue firing.


    The sound of a twig snapping under someone¡¯s foot breaks my concentration, so I let go. He falls to his knees, a look of bemusement glazing over his eyes. In their reflection, I see the phasers moving to form a half circle around me. Behind them are the wolves, pacing back and forth nervously. Surprise, surprise, no Jack.


    ¡°Rory?¡± Mom whispers, too low for the human to hear.


    It¡¯s a question. She wants to know what happened. I¡¯ll give them the full recount once we¡¯re away from this place. First, I need to gauge my success. ¡°Grace?¡± I redirect.


    ¡°He won¡¯t remember,¡± she confirms. ¡°I don¡¯t understand it. He doesn¡¯t remember a thing. Not even that he had a dog in the first place.¡±


    The wolves take this at face value, padding off into the forest. I sigh in relief. As I back away from the man, who¡¯s speaking gibberish at my feet, I feel the opposite of an adrenaline rush. A wave of exhaustion spreads through me so strongly I can¡¯t fight it. I fall not seeing who catches me. I¡¯m in a deprivation chamber. There¡¯s movement, gentle rocking, then nothing.

 6 – Gears Shifting Forward

    I wake to the midmorning sun beating through the window onto my bed. Memories flash in my mind. Snapshot moments. Some mine. Others not. While embarrassed by what happened, I¡¯m also excited to see how this changes my course. I can, indeed, overwrite memories. That¡¯s no longer a question. The question now is will they force me to do it?


    There are three voices coming from the living room, quieter since I¡¯m awake. Not fresh news, you can¡¯t sneak being awake in the Willows house. It¡¯s Dad, Mom, and Grace. Where there¡¯s Grace, there¡¯s also Jarek, but he isn¡¯t saying anything. Grace is doing the most talking.


    ¡°No,¡± Dad answers sternly. His response is immediately followed by resounding hushes.


    ¡°It¡¯s the only way,¡± Grace repeats several times. Each time she says it, she gets louder. With each repetition, her voice rises an octave higher. Pretty soon, just the wolves will hear it. Whatever she¡¯s explaining is something she¡¯s seen with total clarity.


    ¡°Your visions are subjective,¡± Dad retorts.


    Of course, Dad would argue with her. He¡¯d be the only one, and only because whatever she¡¯s trying to get him to understand isn¡¯t something he¡¯s ready to accept. I consider charging out of my room to confront them. Obviously, they¡¯re speaking of me. Shouldn¡¯t I at least be involved? What did she see?


    ¡°This new talent,¡± Jarek finally speaks, ¡°requires some examination.¡±


    He¡¯s right. I did it on a whim and got lucky nothing terrible happened. Okay, something terrible happened, but it could¡¯ve been so much worse. If they hadn¡¯t broken my concentration in their arrival, I don¡¯t know if I would¡¯ve stopped. It was too compelling to keep going. Actually, the probability is leaning heavy toward me being unable to stop. Impulse control? The struggle is real.


    I decide against joining them just yet. Whatever¡¯s happening out there, Grace is doing the persuading for me. Her words will bear more weight than mine, so I sit for a while longer, straining to hear anything more than whispers meant to be words. I try to imagine what she could¡¯ve seen to have her side changing so swiftly to mine. Was it because of my actions last night? How could that simple thing affect this decision? Sure, I confused her, but confusion wouldn¡¯t be enough to tip the scales in my favour. Maybe I¡¯m being overly optimistic and what she saw is swinging the decision the other way. Against me. If that¡¯s the case, however, I doubt Dad would be so resistant to what she saw. He¡¯d be jumping on the opportunity to shut the whole thing down.


    ¡°Is there no other way?¡± Dad pleads.


    ¡°We don¡¯t have time for another way,¡± Mom interjects.


    There¡¯s a grunt. I know that grunt. ¡°If I have to¡­¡±


    If I have to.


    Exactly how many times can the same person destroy me? Is this the hat trick win? My ultimate rejection. Not even second best. Last in line when there are no other options. Worse, my family is out there trying to use our fusion bond to get whatever it is they want out of me. They weren¡¯t planning on letting me go. They enlisted Jack, knowing at his request I wouldn¡¯t be able to refuse.


    No.


    No more.


    I don¡¯t put any thought into a plan. I launch myself out the open window and start running. It¡¯s a few clicks to the road. My head start won¡¯t be much, but hopefully it¡¯ll be enough. I¡¯m three quarters to the road when I scent him upwind of me. Bonfire. I earned his anger, fair and square. Bad enough he was being essentially forced to chain me here. Now he¡¯s having to chase me on top of it. I¡¯d apologize if I were in any way sorry.


    I hear him behind me. The forest protests, ineffective whips snapping around him. Those branches are no match for Jack, paws thundering ever closer. I¡¯m almost to the road. Please, let there be a car. Truck. Anything.


    There¡¯s an eardrum rattling howl from behind me as I break through the trees. Praise be, Luna. There¡¯s a man waiting in the road, sitting astride a motorcycle. Like, right in the middle of the road. I¡¯d question the weirdness, or convenience, except I don¡¯t have time. I hear Jack beyond the treeline now too.


    The man gives me a chin lift, unperturbed by the wolf chasing after me, three times the size of a normal wolf. I¡¯m barely on the bike behind him when it takes off. I wind my arms around his waist, careful not to grip him with my full strength. My arms are shaking from the containment effort.


    He turns his head, speaking loudly so I can hear him over the wind. ¡°Hold as tight as you want, sweetheart. You can¡¯t hurt me.¡± Buddy, you have no idea.


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    I hear a low howl, followed by several more. A choir called to arms. I shudder. ¡°Easy,¡± he soothes, patting my thigh. ¡°They won¡¯t hurt you. Have to catch us first, no?¡±


    I¡¯m not shaking from fear. Jack would never hurt me. Not like that, but he would drag me back kicking and screaming. It¡¯s clear to me they won¡¯t agree to the freedom I need, regardless how much I need it.


    Pressed against his leather jacket, I can hear his trill heartbeat. It¡¯s rapid like mine. He¡¯s excited. Or scared. Either is possible, considering our current circumstances.


    I gather he¡¯s human, hence the heartbeat, but he doesn¡¯t smell human. His smell is salty sea air when waves crash on the beach. While it could just be his cologne wafting back as the air drifts past us, I think it¡¯s coming directly from him. A tropical paradise vacation in the making.


    I lean up to shout over the wind. ¡°Who are you?¡± He flinches a bit. Guess the extra volume was unnecessary. ¡°Sorry,¡± I mutter.


    That draws a chuckle out of him, the vibration in his chest rivalling the machine under me.


    He turns his head toward me again. ¡°Isn¡¯t it obvious? I¡¯m your knight in shining armour.¡±


    Now I¡¯m chuckling. Running off with a stranger probably isn¡¯t my best idea in a decade. Any port in a storm, right? He does come equipped with a horse of a fashion.


    I¡¯m far too enthralled with motoring down the highway to dwell on anything besides the speed at which we¡¯re travelling. I¡¯m flying. Being slower than my phaser family is a hindrance. I delay them. This exhilarating movement is like nothing I¡¯ve ever experienced. It¡¯s the closest to wings I¡¯ve ever come.


    The further we get from Tetrad, the more my chest tightens. We¡¯ve driven for what might¡¯ve been hours, time lost in the bliss of moving. The early markings of twilight replace the light sky. My knight pulls into a gas station. Time for a fill up, in more ways than one. He jerks his head toward the side of the building, where a wall-mounted air compressor resides. Subtle. Well, he evidently knows who I am. What I am. That isn¡¯t really answering any of the questions rattling around in my brain.


    Unfortunately, topping up does little to subdue the ache in my chest. When I return, he¡¯s leaning against his bike waiting for me, head tilted to the side. His expression is different. Not quite a smirk, though he¡¯s seemingly amused by my furious chest rubbing.


    ¡°Hurts, huh?¡± he remarks.


    I¡¯ve never been so far away from home¡­so far away from Jack. I furrow my brow, unsure how much I should share with him. How much does he know?


    ¡°In another few hours, it¡¯ll drop to a dull throb,¡± he informs me. ¡°Won¡¯t get better than that but more an annoyance than ache.¡±


    I look up at him through dusty lashes. Even resting on the bike, he¡¯s taller than me. His collared shirt is unbuttoned at the top, exposing a deeply-tanned chest under his leather jacket. When he takes a breath, I find myself taking one too. He clears his throat, drawing my attention to his face. Strong jaw. Not a full beard, yet not clean-shaven. I clamp my hands together to keep from touching it.


    ¡°You ready to tell me your name?¡± I ask quietly.


    He full-on smirks. ¡°Almost ready to hear how it sounds from your lips, yeah.¡±


    I suck in a breath. Red. Instant. That¡¯s my cheeks.


    He chuckles and lifts from the bike, swinging his leg over to mount it properly. When I don¡¯t move, he pats the seat behind him. ¡°Two more hours.¡±


    ¡°Two more hours of what?¡± I whisper.


    He gives me a high beam smile. ¡°Of being your knight.¡±


    A shudder runs through me. ¡°Then what?¡±


    He runs his tongue over his bottom lip. I track the movement. ¡°Then I¡¯ll be your day.¡±


    I stare blanks.


    He cocks a brow. ¡°You coming?¡±


    I swallow hard, trying to dislodge the tumbleweed in my throat.


    ¡°You have two choices,¡± he offers candidly.


    ¡°Two choices,¡± I repeat.


    ¡°Um-hum,¡± he confirms. ¡°One, you stay here waiting for them to fetch you.¡± He looks toward the station. My eyes follow his sight trail, catching the camera. ¡°Two, you come with me to find out.¡±


    I blow out an unsteady breath. ¡°Find out what?¡±


    He extends his hand, wiggling invitational fingers. The action sends forth a stray midnight wave. Unlike me, he can control his hair by simply running his fingers through it. No doubt mine¡¯s an unmitigated disaster. No way am I touching it to check. My hand will get stuck in there.


    ¡°Are you a flightless bird, Rory?¡± He bats lashes over the most beautiful blue eyes I¡¯ve ever seen. They see straight into my soul, pulling it closer to his. ¡°Or do you suppose if you spread those pretty wings you might fly?¡±


    I¡¯m not sure what to say. That¡¯s what I¡¯m trying to figure out. My mouth is Sahara-dry. ¡°Are we having a stranger danger moment here?¡± I croak out. Not smooth. Not controlled. Absolutely awkward.


    ¡°I¡¯m no danger to you, sweetheart,¡± he assures me. ¡°Never to you.¡±


    I extend a hand cautiously. When my palm connects with his, a strange sensation stirs inside me. It¡¯s not fear precisely, but it¡¯s something close to it, increasing my heartrate and sending an electrical pulse up my spine to my throat, constricting it. I swallow hard again in an attempt to find some relief. It doesn¡¯t help. I¡¯m dizzy, lightheaded like when I¡¯m on the verge of hyperventilating.


    He draws me closer to him, holding me steady. ¡°You coming, or am I going?¡±


    If I go, I¡¯ll be shifting the gears of my life forward, where I¡¯ve been sitting idle. It¡¯s what I¡¯ve been waiting for. My last chance to fly free. Stranger danger is a legitimate concern, despite his assurances. My knight won¡¯t even tell me his name. Asking where we¡¯re going is definitely out of the question.


    If I stay, every freedom I¡¯ve had up to now is as good as gone. They were willing to involve Jack, for Luna¡¯s sake. That means they¡¯re desperate, and desperate phasers are dangerous phasers. More dangerous than this stranger appears to be. No, they wouldn¡¯t physically hurt me, but clipping my wings? That¡¯s a different kind of hurt they aren¡¯t in any way acknowledging. As for Jack, I¡¯m already chained to him. I feel the pull in my chest, a towline urging me home. Yes, home. It¡¯ll always be that to me. Wherever my travels take me, the place of my birth and growth will forever be my home no matter the choice I make in this moment.


    My knight squeezes my hand once, and my eyes snap to his. They¡¯re sparkling, like he knows what way the wind¡¯s blowing. He¡¯s just waiting for me to catch up. ¡°Wings or chains, sweetheart?¡±


    Wings or chains. Which do I choose?

 7 – Hotel Stained Glass

    My knight pulls into an underground garage, the rumbling machine echoing through the concrete space. When he pats my thigh, I dismount. My legs are still vibrating. I¡¯m just not sure whether it¡¯s from the ride or fear. There¡¯s no way he can¡¯t feel me shaking when his hand clasps the back of my neck, but my tremors don¡¯t give him the slightest pause. He flexes his fingers, steering me toward an elevator. Once we¡¯re inside, he lowers his hand, pressing the wall to expose a closet, where he swaps out his riding leather for a smart suit jacket. Bad boy turned business professional is what he meant when he said he¡¯d be my day. Clever. No less attractive in either case. Neither out of place. Unlike me. Me? I¡¯m a windswept wreck. Whatever my worst was prior to this moment, I¡¯ve topped it. Good job, me.


    ¡°Handy,¡± I mutter.


    In the mirrored reflection of the interior, I catch his smile. It¡¯s devilish, sending a fresh wave of tremors along my spine. As the elevator doors open to the ground level, his hand clamps around my neck again. Part of me wants to shake it off. I mean, it¡¯s odd being steered. He pushes. I move. Another part of me sort of likes that I¡¯m a tad in front of him so he can¡¯t see the expressions undoubtedly contorting my face. We stop in front of the reservations desk, bypassing a line of people checking in and out.


    Heartbeats chorus through the open space, with its high ceilings giving the false illusion of increased size. Admittedly, the lobby is in no way small. It isn¡¯t the intended focal point anyway. The draw is the massive entrance wall, which isn¡¯t technically a wall. It¡¯s stained glass, a rainbow beaming onto the marble tile at my feet. My bare feet. My dirty, bare feet. I shift awkwardly, suddenly aware how out of place I am.


    From behind the desk, beautiful blue eyes lock onto my knight, long lashes fluttering their hello, as her dark cherry lips start to curl at the edges. The smile is cut short when she notices his hand, those lips pressing into a thin line. Calm down, Lady. I¡¯m not after your man. I don¡¯t even know his name.


    ¡°Kella,¡± my knight addresses her. His voice is different. Sharper. Borderline animus. To be fair, we¡¯ve barely spoken, so I¡¯m definitely not the best judge of a temperament change, but when we did talk, it was something easy. Flirty, actually. Not like this. She hasn¡¯t spoken, and he¡¯s already annoyed. ¡°Are the rooms prepared?¡±


    Now my cheeks heat. The full extent of her attention is directed at me. She¡¯s not shy about a thorough survey, looking me over from the top of my feral hair to¡­yeah, you guessed it. My bare feet. Her nose curls in disgust. I know I look bad¡ªunderstatement of the year¡ªbut she doesn¡¯t need to be so affronted by it. It¡¯s not my fault I didn¡¯t have a fancy coat closet to instantly transform myself from wild ride to casual chic. My shoulders curl in on themselves, trying to help me minimize the space I¡¯m taking up. My knight squeezes my neck once. He¡¯s attempting to soothe me, yet the contact doesn¡¯t soothe me. It just makes me more uncomfortable.


    ¡°Kella,¡± he barks.


    Her eyes snap to his, then find the floor. ¡°All set,¡± she grinds out. ¡°Fully stocked.¡±


    He steers me away from the desk toward a different bank of elevators, not releasing his hand this time when the doors close.


    ¡°Are you sure I should be here?¡± I whisper. ¡°I think it¡¯s upsetting your girlfriend...and maybe you.¡±


    His fingers drum the side of my neck. ¡°You jealous, sweetheart?¡±


    I scoff, trying and failing, to dislodge his hand. ¡°I¡¯m not your sweetheart, and I¡¯m not jealous, for the record. This is threat mediation. I¡¯m in a foreign environment. Making waves isn¡¯t top ten on my to-do list.¡±


    He leans closer, inhaling deeply. Why is he smelling me? I take a whiff myself, worried more than my appearance is off-putting. Thankfully, I only smell the fresh air from our ride, lingering like a second skin.


    He catches my eye in the mirror. ¡°Kella¡¯s my sister.¡±


    Electrical pulses shoot through my neck to my shoulders. My seized muscles let loose. I don¡¯t understand what difference that makes to me. What do I care that she¡¯s his sister and not a jaded girlfriend? It¡¯s just one more thing to get confused over at this point. Regardless, there¡¯s no time to question it. The elevator stops on the top floor. When the door opens, he steers me out into the hall. This floor has two rooms, one on the left and one on the right.


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    He positions me in the middle of the hall, spinning me around to face him. ¡°Left or right, little bird.¡± Great, a new pet name. Cue sarcasm.


    Instead of responding to what I assume is the option of door number one or door number two, I fold my arms across my chest and glower. He blinks, unbothered by my stare down. In fact, he uses the opportunity to fully take me in. Everywhere his ocean-hued eyes touch my skin feels like lasers.


    ¡°Two questions,¡± he offers.


    I tilt my head in confusion. What¡¯s he after now? His hands are clenched at his sides, as though he¡¯s struggling to keep them away from me. He¡¯s a really touchy type of guy, I reckon. Jarek¡¯s like that. Even when he isn¡¯t wielding his dark water gifts, he needs to have his hands on someone. While it¡¯s usually Grace, anyone will do in a pinch.


    ¡°I¡¯ll answer two questions, then you¡¯ll pick,¡± he elaborates.


    ¡°Three,¡± I counter. Honestly, why am I negotiating? Two guaranteed answers are more than he¡¯s given me since I met him.


    He shakes his head, drawing a sigh from me. This whole situation is bizarre. I should¡¯ve made a run for the exit when we were in the lobby. Something tells me my curiosity is going to be my ruination.


    ¡°Who are you?¡± I cave.


    He holds up one finger, smiling like he¡¯s won a prize from me. It takes extreme effort not to mirror the expression. It¡¯s not that I¡¯m standing here trying to be miserable. I just want some details to decide if he deserves my smiles or not. So far, I¡¯m unconvinced he does. He¡¯s compelling, yes. Hot too. Unfortunately, beyond the physical pull, dude is cryptic as heck and a touch weird. That¡¯s not a judgment against the weird. I¡¯m a proud member of the club, but there are good and bad weirds. Which kind is he?


    ¡°Vand.¡±


    ¡°Sorry, Vand, I didn¡¯t ask what your name was. I asked who you are.¡± His lips twitch. I can¡¯t tell if he¡¯s restraining a smirk or sneer. Probably not wise to antagonize a stranger, but here we are.


    He steps closer, sucking up all the space between us with his intensity. His hands move to either side of my face, electrical pulses zipping along where his fingers touch. ¡°Say it again.¡±


    I¡¯m lightheaded. That typically only happens when my breathing is out of whack, except this time I¡¯m not scared. I¡¯m not upset. This feeling is strange. New. Exhilarating. ¡°Say what again?¡± I croak out.


    He leans down, his lips hovering over mine. ¡°My name.¡±


    ¡°Vand,¡± I murmur.


    He tilts forward, and I lose myself in the tropical scent enveloping me. His face appears in my mind like a wrecking ball, smashing away this temporary reprieve from obligation. My first kiss¡ªthe ultimate worst in learning experiences¡ªwas nothing like this. Not an ideal time for a comparison, but it is what it is. Roughly three years ago, I kissed Jack Findlay. His body went completely rigid. I thought he died. He forcefully detached from me, disappearing into the woods where he immediately shifted to the wolf. He didn¡¯t return to human skin for two full weeks. In a split second, I changed both our lives. It happened that quickly. Consequently, I also changed the lives of everyone connected to ours.


    Vand is not Jack. Where Jack froze, Vand melds to me. His lips are soft, giving. The warm expanse sends shockwaves through me. He wants me. Of that, I¡¯m absolutely certain. His course is set. Seems I want him too. At least my body does. My lungs act up, burning slightly as my energy well reminds me elevated emotions are a catalyst for rapid energy drain. That, coupled with the increasing ache in my chest, is enough to have me drawing back.


    I swallow hard. ¡°Too much.¡±


    ¡°Not enough,¡± he contends, pressing his forehead to mine.


    My inflamed energy well continues scorching my lungs, but the ache in my chest dwindles back to the dull throb he ensured me it would. It¡¯s not exactly where my heart is. It¡¯s more in the middle of my rib cage, between my breasts. Serious indigestion. That¡¯s what fusion is, Folks. Guess the bond isn¡¯t a fan of me kissing strange men. My heart¡¯s having a bit of a meltdown also. It¡¯s racing so hard I¡¯m worried it might explode. Can he hear it? While I¡¯ve never been self-conscious of my physical responses before, with him so close I¡¯m keenly aware how ridiculous my reaction is. Small mercy, I¡¯m not alone in this. His heart is racing to the finish line along with mine. What¡¯s he thinking?


    ¡°You¡¯re uncomfortable,¡± he unnecessarily points out.


    ¡°Confused,¡± I deflect. He has me at the worst disadvantage. He¡¯s holding all the cards here. He isn¡¯t flashing them, either. Not even the teensiest peek.


    He nods. ¡°This is a lot for you. You¡¯re new.¡±


    I am new, though my mind feels eons old. What he didn¡¯t say was young. I like this description better.


    ¡°Where am I, Vand?¡±


    He holds up two fingers, indicating he hasn¡¯t forgotten I¡¯m restricted to two questions. ¡°The Hotel Stained Glass. My hotel.¡±


    I suppose he¡¯ll expect me to choose now. Left or right. Are those my only choices? ¡°What if I want to leave?¡±


    He shrugs. ¡°Then leave.¡±


    I lift a doubtful brow. ¡°You¡¯d let me go?¡±


    He frowns, his hand coming around the back of my neck again, full-body tingles coming with it. ¡°I told you once. This is the second and last time I¡¯ll say it. I¡¯m no danger to you, little bird. Never to you.¡±


    I blow out an unsteady breath. It should be a simple enough choice. Left or right¡­or neither.


    His fingers flex, and the hairs on my arms rise in response. ¡°Left or right?¡±


    I square my shoulders. ¡°Left.¡±


    His smile is wolfish. I understand this is a game to him, but I don¡¯t know the rules or what¡¯s at stake. I do know one thing, however. This is not my wolf, and I need to be careful of his teeth.

 8 – Shoddy Reception

    I choose left, and I¡¯m¡­left. Well, I¡¯m deposited into a beautiful suite unbefitting my current state of dishevel. The beams of remaining daylight play peek-a-boo, each gust of air flapping the curtains enough for them to shine through. I lazily make my way to the gigantic open window, pushing them aside. The full force of the wind, combined with the intoxicating view, steals my breath away. Blooming jacaranda trees line a long sidewalk. The buzz of traffic and passersby reminds me I¡¯m no longer isolated from civilization. Nor am I protected by the surrounding Tetrad forest.


    Dragging my eyes from the sight before me, I turn to survey the room. It¡¯s elegant, yet inviting. A sitting area connects to a kitchenette with no wall separating the two. Gliding toward it, mesmerized, I see an open door at the side. A bathroom. Exactly what I need. The promising smell of soap pulls me in. I¡¯m not disappointed. Two options exist¡ªI¡¯m noticing a theme here¡ªa shower stall and a deep, jet-driven bathtub. I opt for the shower, lingering longer than I should.


    Pulling a white cotton robe around myself, I saunter back to the bedroom, wrapping it tighter as I pass the window. Creepy peepers are indiscriminate with their peeping. If I could so easily see out, someone could just as easily see me. I¡¯m not in the mood for a peep show. There¡¯s going to be a show, though. Full-on dramatic arts performance, no doubt. Small mercies, I won¡¯t have to stare their disapproval in the face with a phone call.


    It¡¯s rude of me not to let them know I¡¯m safe and sound. They¡¯ll have been worrying for hours. Why am I procrastinating? Am I afraid of getting in trouble? It¡¯s more than childish fear. It¡¯s knowing if I call them, they¡¯ll somehow manage to manipulate the location out of me, then they¡¯ll come to retrieve me against my will. I¡¯m not ready to go back. I¡¯ve rarely been around humans. Grandpa and Vera, yes, but they¡¯re my solo human connection. I wouldn¡¯t really call Grandpa a shining example for the species, either. In terms of innately human curiosity, he¡¯s sorely lacking. He likes routine, stability, and simplicity. Things move for him in a straight line. He says little. From what I¡¯ve witnessed, there are no excess thoughts bubbling over from his lack of words. He isn¡¯t unintelligent by any means. He just lives a tranquil existence. He¡¯s content with only that. My greatest hope is to find a similar level of contentment at the end of my self-discovery process. I need some sense of balance, instead of the up and down rollercoaster I¡¯ve been riding. Even the strongest stomach gets motion sickness after a while. But his life? It¡¯s boring. I want more than that for me.


    So, if Grandpa isn¡¯t normal for a human, what¡¯s normal? What defines normality? I have no way to make a valid comparison as to normal humans or normal phasers. There are no referenced memories tucked away in my bottomless brain well. All I¡¯ve got are my own experiences, where I dabbled in humanity during pubescence. Not a fun time, to put it mildly. Was it truly unpleasant? Or was I just confused? It¡¯s easy to dislike what you don¡¯t understand. That understanding is what I need to make an educated decision not swayed by temporary inconvenience. Hotel Stained Glass offers me human knowledge in abundance. Rather than being creepy peeped, I can become the creepy peeper. Probably a bad analogy, but it tracks.


    As for that phone call, they¡¯ll find me whether I call or not. It¡¯s only a matter of time. I can wait it out, soaking in as much human experience as possible until this freedom ends, or I can cut it short and hope coming to my senses awards me some type of slack¡­eventually. The former seems the most logical recourse.


    Jarek must be busy, particularly with Mom and Dad. While Dad¡¯s undoubtedly leading the search party, Mom might be enjoying her solitude. No, she isn¡¯t good with being alone. She doesn¡¯t crave it the way I do. She could spend every waking second of every hour of every day with Dad, without even that being nearly enough. I totally relate to the draw Dad has. His subtle intrusion puts him in a unique position to please, generally. He doesn¡¯t make wrong assumptions. He knows. Dad handled my mental astuteness with the most ease, constantly reminded of my status by the thoughts invading his brain like jackhammers. I was relentless. He was never condescending. Never spoke to me with the baby talk others couldn¡¯t refrain from using. I gave him a miracle he hadn¡¯t thought to ask for, a child, yet I couldn¡¯t let him appreciate it in the way the others did. They saw what they wanted to see, for the brief time they were able to see it. I didn¡¯t allow him that luxury. Someone had to see beyond my incongruity. Despite being able to show everyone else, the visions still came from the eyes of a child, so they were distorted somehow. I made him hear me. Too bad I couldn¡¯t make him listen. The reality is, since he wouldn¡¯t listen before, there¡¯s zero percent chance he¡¯ll listen now. Guess that settles it. I can¡¯t call them. There¡¯s no way they¡¯ll let me stay. I feel guilty over it, but not enough I¡¯m willing to risk this opportunity.


    My burning lungs remind me there are more immediate things to address than my guilt, energy replenishment being the main one. I explore the kitchenette, annoyed when the only options are human food. Vand¡¯s aware of my uncommon requirements. Maybe his sister isn¡¯t, and she¡¯s the one who prepared the room. Rooms, actually. I wonder what¡¯s in the other room? Canned air, perhaps?


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    The cupboards and drawers, stocked as they are, boast no favourable results in the way of preferred sustenance. The wardrobe near the bed, however, is full of clothing. I make use of that, pulling on a pair of jeans and button-down dress shirt. Just my size. Upon survey, all the clothing is my size, which is a feat in itself. I¡¯m long and lean. Not a standard shape. Grace complains about it constantly as it makes shopping a challenge for her. This indicates he¡¯s been planning for my arrival a while. Not only that. He intends for me to stay a while. Who is this man? What does he want with me?


    I¡¯m not getting any answers holed up in this room. Time to test some boundaries. Test one, obviously, is leaving the room. Odds are good he locked me in here, not thinking I¡¯d be brave enough to explore. I¡¯m pleasantly surprised to be wrong, finding myself in the hallway across from the unchosen door. My fingers twitch, more curious than ever what¡¯s in there. I try the handle. Of course it¡¯s locked. The panel next to the door glows red when I place my palm on it. Conversely, my room door glows green when I mirror the action. Seems I¡¯m free to come and go as I please. Point to Vand.


    The reception desk is free of guests when I cautiously approach. Kella¡¯s dutifully standing behind it. Not a blonde hair is out of place. I still feel woefully inept in her presence, though I¡¯ve at least freshened up and am wearing shoes. She says nothing, plunking a corded phone on the counter in front of me.


    I ignore the life line. ¡°Could you point me to the nearest electronics store?¡±


    ¡°You chose left,¡± she mutters.


    I consider, albeit briefly, following up with a litany of questions, the first one being what¡¯s in the room on the right. If she¡¯s anything like her brother, she won¡¯t answer me anyway, so I opt for reiterating my initial question. ¡°A map? Anything?¡±


    She purses her lips. ¡°You have no money.¡±


    Crap. Hadn¡¯t thought of that. I close my eyes and straighten my shoulders. I might be in a position where I have to beg, but I¡¯m doing it with some dignity. A loud clunk has me snapping my eyes open. On the counter, next to the phone, is a container of canned air. I snatch it up before she changes her mind.


    She eyes me warily. ¡°Why aren¡¯t you calling them?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not ready,¡± I admit. There¡¯s a quiver in my voice countermanding my words.


    ¡°You¡¯re scared,¡± she unnecessarily points out.


    ¡°What gave me away?¡± I whisper.


    She snorts. It¡¯s not technically derisive. It¡¯s more amused. ¡°Your heart. You¡¯re like a hummingbird.¡±


    My brow furrows. ¡°You can hear my heart from over there?¡±


    Now her snort is derisive. ¡°You can¡¯t hear mine?¡±


    I try. I fail. I should be able to hear it. The lobby is quiet, the open space producing an amplifying effect. There¡¯s no reason for the maintained silence unless¡­


    ¡°Light water phaser,¡± she announces.


    ¡°Does that mean¡­¡± my voice trails off.


    This is kind of a lot. More than I bargained for. To clarify, I don¡¯t mean her being a phaser is a big deal. Yeah, it¡¯s a nice side bonus. Something I¡¯m familiar with. What has my knees shaking in an equal combination of fear and anticipation is if she¡¯s a phaser, and she¡¯s Vand¡¯s sister, it means he¡¯s like us. Specifically, he¡¯s like me, hence the trill heartbeat I¡¯ve consistently heard when he¡¯s in proximity. Half phaser. Half human. I¡¯m not alone.


    Now she¡¯s looking at me with pity. Why¡¯s she looking at me like that? Isn¡¯t this a good thing? ¡°Why didn¡¯t he just tell me? Why all the secrecy?¡±


    Her long, manicured nails drum the desk surface. ¡°He likes games.¡±


    ¡°This isn¡¯t a game to me,¡± I remark defensively.


    ¡°And yet.¡± She bats long lashes over those beautiful blue eyes. ¡°You¡¯re playing, aren¡¯t you?¡±


    Do I have a choice? I want answers, now more than ever. ¡°What does he want, Kella?¡±


    She sucks in a breath, her pitying expression intensifying exponentially. ¡°He wants to win.¡±


    A shudder runs through me. Win what? What¡¯s the prize? What happens to the loser? What are the rules?


    ¡°Can I offer you some advice?¡± she prompts.


    I nod.


    ¡°Let him win,¡± she cautions me. ¡°He doesn¡¯t like losing.¡±


    ¡°Does anyone?¡± I contend.


    ¡°No, I suppose not,¡± she concedes.


    I grip the canned air in my hand, eyeing the elevator and the exit in rapid succession. Something¡¯s seriously off here, but I don¡¯t feel I¡¯m in danger. He assured me I¡¯m not. What harm could come from playing his game with him? Even in letting him win, I¡¯m still winning. He¡¯s like me. The potential insight I can gain is worth exploring, my lack of appeal for the delivery system notwithstanding. Concessions. We all make those, right? It¡¯s a fundamental part of getting what we want.


    I lift a brow. ¡°Can I use the phone later if I want?¡±


    ¡°Absolutely,¡± she agrees.


    ¡°He¡¯ll let me leave if I want?¡± I push. I¡¯d appreciate some confirmation on this point.


    She sighs. Yeah, that¡¯s not confirmation. I swallow hard, my eyes darting to the exit again. Maybe it¡¯s best I head that way now.


    ¡°Let him win,¡± she repeats. ¡°So long as he¡¯s winning, you¡¯re free as a bird.¡±


    Her word choice isn¡¯t lost on me. Not all birds are free. Wings or chains. Seems we¡¯ve circled around to that choice, except I think cage is more apt in this context. Regardless, I can¡¯t leave. Until this moment, I was alone on this fence, dreaming of setting foot on either lawn¡ªhuman or phaser. I¡¯m too curious to do anything but choose the elevator.

 9 – Rude Awakenings

    Waking up is rarely a pleasant experience, but today I hurry to get ready. Standing in front of the closet, I wish Grace was here to give me a wardrobe opinion. I settle on a blue satin blouse under a black jacket, paired with sleek dress pants. I finish the look with some wedge-heeled ankle boots. My hair is another battle. Though I like the way it falls down my back, it¡¯s a snare trap in the wind. With any luck, Vand will take me on another ride today. I really enjoyed the wind whipping past me on the last one. I give the weather outside a passing glance before braiding back half the front. Look at me, compromising in all my adult glory.


    I¡¯m ready by nine o¡¯clock. Is that early or late? Seeing Vand is inevitable¡ªit was his hotel¡ªbut I have no idea when it¡¯ll happen. I¡¯m also unsure how he¡¯ll react to what I learned from his sister last night. Will he consider her interference cheating? She did offer me a phone a friend option, which I didn¡¯t use. I wish I understood the rules of this game. While I could keep it to myself, I don¡¯t want to. His secretiveness makes me want to be all the more open. I¡¯m set on not hiding things. He needs to get on board with that too, or this visit will be a short one. I want answers. No, I need answers.


    I drag a chair over to the window. Peeping will have to suffice for entertainment. The atmosphere isn¡¯t rushed here. Steps are taken at an unnaturally slow pace. At least they seem unnatural to me since I¡¯ve spent the largest portion of my life with phasers, who regardless of their ability to act human, have a tendency to speed things up in private. These steps are different. Leisurely. They take the traveller somewhere they want to go.


    It isn¡¯t difficult to pick out the tourists scattered amongst the locals, with their wide-brimmed hats shielding sun-screened noses. Guess they¡¯re headed to a beach. I wouldn¡¯t mind some sand with Vand. We have a beach at home, but it¡¯s private by design. The cliffs are too steep for general access, and the reef keeps boaters away.


    A child passes by, hands gripped strongly by her parents. She reminds me of a miniature version of Tessa. Guiltily, I wonder how many trips she¡¯s made to the main house to get a status update on me for Jack, forced to endure the presence of my family without anything to show for it. Phasers make her skin crawl.


    I continue window watching until there¡¯s a knock at the door. The peephole confirms it¡¯s Vand, and he¡¯s holding a bouquet of lilies. The bond pulses in my chest cavity, taking on a life of its own in competition with my beating heart. The reminder is constant. Everything¡¯s out of sync. Ugh. I crinkle my nose when he holds them out to me as I swing open the door.


    He lifts a brow. ¡°Aren¡¯t pretty women supposed to want pretty flowers?¡±


    My cheeks heat. I open my mouth to explain the thoughtful gift inflamed the fusion bond, but he cuts me off.


    ¡°Maybe cacti next time,¡± he considers. ¡°To match your prickles.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t need you to romance me, Vand,¡± I mutter. ¡°Honestly, I¡¯d rather my presence doesn¡¯t completely throw off your routine.¡±


    ¡°You want to see a wild animal in its natural environment?¡±


    I crinkle my nose in distaste.


    ¡°A ringmaster in a circus?¡± he tries again.


    I shake my head. ¡°Just a regular Vand doing regular Vand things.¡±


    His smile is wolfish when he runs his hand along the side of my cheek, a tingling sensation remaining on my skin where his fingers travel. While not as intense as prior contact, it¡¯s no less impactful, liquefying my knees. I lean into him for support, which was undoubtedly his intention. I feel the heat from his body. The smooth muscles in his chest tighten under my hand, but it isn¡¯t a stiffening of dread. He doesn¡¯t cringe in disgust or attempt to move away in the slightest. We stand still for a moment, his pulse quickening along with mine. Why does every contact with him feel like I¡¯m sticking my finger in a light socket?


    ¡°You ready to feel some power between your legs?¡± he poses, breaking my reverie.


    I choke on air. ¡°Excuse me?¡±


    He chuckles, his hand sliding up my back to clamp around my neck. Guess I¡¯m about to be steered again. ¡°Just my bike¡­for now.¡±


    I inhale sharply, and he chuckles again, leading me out the door toward the elevator. I stop us before we step inside, turning to face him. ¡°Why didn¡¯t you tell me you were a hybrid?¡±


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    His jaw clenches, along with his fingers on my neck. I can¡¯t tell whether he¡¯s annoyed with my direct question, confused by it, or impatient to take me for a ride where talking won¡¯t be an option. After an awkwardly long silence, his grip loosens, but his ocean-hued gaze continues to bore into me. The dark flecks swirl around the blue, exposing unsettled waters. ¡°What difference does it make?¡± he challenges me.


    ¡°A huge difference. If I hadn¡¯t found out, I probably wouldn¡¯t still be here,¡± I admit.


    He bites his lower lip, and I track the movement, jolts of electricity shooting from my neck through my body like flashes of lightning. He frowns when I flinch away. It¡¯s not that I don¡¯t enjoy the physical experience, but I don¡¯t exactly appreciate my emotions being messed with. That¡¯s what he¡¯s doing. Messing with my emotions. Same as Jarek, except I don¡¯t trust him, so this isn¡¯t appreciated.


    ¡°That¡¯s why,¡± he answers simply. I stare blanks, and he sighs. ¡°You were bound to make assumptions if you knew I was part dark water phaser. For the record, I can¡¯t manipulate your emotions, little bird. Like you, I project. All hybrids project. Only, where you share images, I share my feelings. If it makes you uncomfortable, block it out.¡±


    Now it¡¯s my turn to sigh. ¡°Block it out how, Vand?¡±


    I¡¯m not expecting him to kiss me, or the instant tingles to branch out from where our lips are connected. Pushing past my initial shock, I follow the path of each current shooting through me, stamping on them like wayward sparks from a contained fire igniting nearby grass. While the pleasant buzzing sensation persists at my lips, it¡¯s entirely because I want it to. Not because it¡¯s being forced on me. The dull throb in my chest steadily increases until it hurts. I hesitantly pull back.


    A crease forms between his brow as he searches for something in my expression. ¡°Better?¡±


    I nod, rubbing at my chest. ¡°Until it wasn¡¯t.¡±


    He scowls. ¡°You can block that out too.¡±


    My eyes snap up to his. ¡°How?¡±


    He shrugs. ¡°Kill him.¡±


    There¡¯s no emotion in his response. No hint of humour, dark as it¡¯d be if that were the case. He¡¯s absolutely serious, and that¡¯s seriously problematic. There¡¯s no way I¡¯d resort to such drastic means to disconnect myself from Jack. I have a hard enough time swallowing my guilt for fusing us in the first place. There¡¯s zero percent chance I¡¯d be able to live with knowing I wilfully hurt him. I¡¯d never wilfully hurt anyone, least of all him.


    ¡°That¡¯s not happening,¡± I clip.


    He shrugs again, unperturbed by my refusal. ¡°Then you¡¯ll have to stop with the midnight snacking.¡±


    My impulse is to glower, but I refrain. He put me in that room, full with human food, purposely. That¡¯s not the snack he means, though. He¡¯s talking about my trip to the reception desk where Kella gave me canned air. ¡°I¡¯m not a fan of human food,¡± I grumble.


    He takes hold of my chin, keeping my focus on him when I try to look away. ¡°Those are your choices for bypassing the bond. Get rid of him or go human.¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t just go human, Vand.¡±


    ¡°We can,¡± he disagrees. We. Someone exists having the same limitations and basic biology. We¡¯re the same. Something in between two worlds. ¡°The fusion bond is phaser exclusive. Maintaining a human diet puts your phaser side to sleep. Subsequently, it puts the bond to sleep.¡±


    This is why I¡¯m here. Not for how he makes me feel. For his insight. What I have are all theories, derived by the brilliant minds of Pete and Rick, but still just theories. Vand has real world experience I¡¯m obviously lacking.


    ¡°Human or phaser,¡± I murmur. The irony isn¡¯t lost on me. Vand seems to love a good coin toss with two clear sides. Me? I feel the pressure of the vice creating the coin, moving closer until there¡¯s no room to go one way or the other. I¡¯m being crushed.


    Again, his fingers zap me, shocking my senses in an effort to regain my attention. ¡°It¡¯s only permanent if you make it permanent, little bird.¡±


    I swallow hard. ¡°Is that the end of the game? Permanence?¡±


    His fingers tighten on my chin. ¡°There is no end to the game.¡±


    When I try to jerk my chin away, his grip becomes borderline painful. ¡°Someone has to lose,¡± I remind him.


    He smirks. ¡°I never lose.¡±


    I roll my eyes, and his jaw clenches again. Apparently, he doesn¡¯t appreciate a dismissive facial response. Unfortunately, for him, I don¡¯t particularly care if he likes it or not. Sweet Vand is enticing, Mysterious Van is tolerable, but Manhandling Vand is a hard no from me. ¡°Let me go,¡± I demand, placing my hands on his cheeks.


    His smirk transforms into a full-on smile, exposing all his teeth. ¡°If I don¡¯t?¡±


    I blow out an unsteady breath. ¡°I¡¯ll make you forget you were ever playing a game in the first place.¡± I¡¯m not scared of him. Despite being in a strange place, with this strange man, I¡¯m not helpless. Even if he lied saying he was no danger to me, the fact remains I could very well be a danger to him. ¡°Your move,¡± I chirp.


    His eyes widen. He¡¯s excited. ¡°You¡¯re so much more than I thought you¡¯d be.¡±


    When he lets me go, I rub at my chin. ¡°What did you think I¡¯d be?¡±


    The elevator lights indicating movement to our floor draw his eye. ¡°A pawn.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not a pawn,¡± I counter.


    He shakes his head, his attention still on the panel. ¡°No, little bird, you¡¯re not a pawn,¡± he agrees. ¡°You¡¯re a queen.¡±


    I scoff, but the sound is drowned out by the dinging of the elevator, followed by the opening of the door. My jaw drops at the same time Vand moves to stand directly in front of me, blocking the view of someone I wasn¡¯t sure I¡¯d ever see again. In fact, I was fairly confident I wouldn¡¯t. The fusion bond ignores his attempted shielding, funnelling right through him and into the man who reeks of bonfire.


    ¡°Come on, Rory,¡± Jack barks. ¡°It¡¯s time to go home.¡±