Markings (9 page)

A pair of earrings glittered on the nightstand. They were the fat hoop kind made out of sterling silver, rhinestones curling down their centers. I wore them to a Christmas party at Mom’s work last year, but that had been it. I hadn’t really liked them. But now, as I stared at the pair, I had this funny longing . . . I
wanted
them. I wanted twenty pairs like them. They were flawless, edgy, sparkling. Why didn’t I wear these more often? Maybe because I wasn’t a glitter person. Jamming them in, my ears burned. When was the last time I wore earrings? Two, three months now? Jogging to the bathroom, I watched them swing from my earlobes, catching the light.

Note to self: for some reason, you like sparkles now. Get more jewelry.

Chapter 10: Special

U
m. Wow.” Aaron scanned me up and down.

“Ready,” I said, though that much was obvious: I was brushed, combed, powdered, deodorized, and glittered. My purse hung on my shoulder, flats on my feet. Definitely looked more suited to be beside Aaron, even if it was just to a coffee shop.

He rose off the couch, still staring as he opened the front door. “Ladies first.”

We pulled into the parking lot of Cup’O’Hearts twenty minutes later. The coffee house had deep red walls, paintings from local artists hanging all over. A small fireplace crackled in the back, where sofas and loveseats were cozily arranged. Tables and chairs lined the windows, and eighties music played in the background. Madonna’s
Nothing Really Matters
came on as we crossed the floor.

“What do you want?” Aaron asked. We stood back from the counter, reading the drink boards.

I pursed my lips. “I’m thinking an iced caramel blondie. They usually make pretty good ones.”

Aaron gave me a funny look. “A blondie?”

“It means white mocha.” At least, that’s what we called them back home in Seaside.

“Oh. I get it.”

We stepped up to the counter, where a red-headed cashier waited. She blushed as she took our order, a smile plastered to her face. He smiled back, surprising me as he ordered for both of us. Before I could stop him, however, he asked for a caramel blondie and confused her. I forgot to tell him that here, yes, they are called white mochas. He shot me a narrow-eyed look that made me laugh. He looked even cuter when embarrassed, and I had this urge to hug him.

As I went to put down a few bucks for what I ordered his hand came down over mine. “Put that away. I got it.”

“What? Are you—but—”

“Say ‘thank you, Aaron.
’
”

I stuffed my four ones back in my purse. “Thank you, Aaron.”

When we got our coffees, we moved into a back corner near the fireplace. I took notice of how empty Cup’O’Hearts was at this hour. There was a chunky gal reading her magazine by the windows and an older gentleman near the door, unfolding the daily newspaper—the only customers besides us.

“So.” Aaron flopped down onto a suede loveseat. I watched the way he fluffed a pillow with both hands. It looked more like he was
kneading
it, like what Harry did with his cat bed. “How’s it going?”

“Um. I don’t know.” I shrugged, settling into a plush chair across from him. “I’ve probably screwed things up with my best friend, I witnessed several violations of nature between you and Cain in the last twenty-four hours, and I’m pretty sure this Shifter thing isn’t . . . just . . . imaginary crap.”

“Uh-huh.” Aaron took a sip of his latte, observing me like a shrink. “And besides realizing I’m not a psycho and not inventing stuff, what do you think about this Shifter thing?”

“I think . . .” My throat closed up. The truth was that I was downright terrified.

“How long do you have left at the shelter?” he asked suddenly. “Because even if you don’t work there anymore, you should still hang around. We can’t have you running loose by yourself anymore.”

“I don’t know, I— . . . What do you mean?”

“Well, you’re going to need fellow Shifters nearby,” Aaron said, casually sipping his drink.

“Wait, does this have something to do with me being
special
?” I was starting to dislike that word.

Aaron’s eyes flickered, a strange fire growing behind them. He set his latte down on a nearby stand, fingers running over his smooth, angular chin. “You aren’t going to be like other wildcats, I don’t think,” he muttered. “Okay, let’s back up a little. Let me fill you in on some main details.”

“That might be a good idea,” I agreed.

“The proper name for our kind is
Miew Demos
. It is a mix of Greek and Egyptian words that translates simply to
cat people
.”

“What about that term you used yesterday, Iew Keftey? That’s Cain?” I asked, double-checking my memory.

“Yes.”

“What does that mean? Dog people?”

“No. Well, technically speaking that is their real name, only its
Iew Demos
, not Miew. But no, we have always called them Iew Keftey. It is the Egyptian term meaning,
dog enemy
.

“The battle between Miews and the Keftey started long, long ago when Bastet spent a short time as a human and gave birth to the first Shifter. You’ll get the whole speech and shebang about that when you meet Raja though. I’ll save you the torture of hearing it twice.”

“Bastet? Isn’t she . . . the Goddess of Felines?”

“She’s the goddess of a couple different things, but, yes, she’s known for her ‘grand design,’ the cat, as well.” He cleared his throat. “Every Miew belongs to a clan, just like every human belongs to a society. We are found worldwide, so every clan is arranged differently. Here in the USA there are four main groups: North, East, South, and West. This applies to the pack as well. You and I are a part of the West Clan as Cain belonged to the West Pack.”

Not that I’m saying I was going to pack my bags and bail, but I did have a habit of avoiding things I couldn’t handle. Plus, I wasn’t the clan type. I’d never in my life been part of a group or clique. Now I was being forced into one? “What happens if a Shifter leaves their clan or pack?” I asked.

“Some members do leave their clan or pack, yes. We call those Shifters,
Recluses
. Or sometimes they’ll get called,
Drifters
. We spot some of those from time to time. Usually people who don’t accept what they are, or those too interlocked with the humans will become a Recluse. It takes some thorough training and lots of time to shut out your inner feline. It’s sort of sad, really.”

“Oh.” I had an intuitive, sinking feeling I wasn’t going to pull off being a Recluse, mostly because the way Aaron eyed me just then said he’d come find me and drag me back like he had this weekend. “So, wait, if we’re in so much trouble, why not contact another clan? If there are four clans, couldn’t we just go to one of them?”

“No, for two reasons.” Aaron held up two fingers. “One, it’s too dangerous out there right now. The risk in separating our home base of felines is too great.” He held up another finger. “Two, even if we did send a group, it is unlikely other clans would respond. If other clans get into other clan’s issues, other packs will get into other pack’s issues. You throw the humans into the mix, and there’s World War III right there.”

“Oh.” Touché.

“Anyway, with every large society, a leader is needed. The Iew Keftey are intelligent, but not congenial. They have a vile nature behind those yellow eyes. Their leaders are chosen solely on strength and, like real wolves, a change in leadership becomes a fight to the death.”

“Sounds very . . . animal.”

Aaron’s tight expression loosened. He cracked a smile. “Our methods for choosing a leader are very different,” he continued. “In fact, our true leaders are chosen for us.”

“Okay. How does that work?”

He frowned. His aura switched instantly, radiating something I’d never felt from him before: sorrow. “Our last Alpha was named Jinalo. He was killed six months ago by a poacher, bullet to the head . . . Damn humans. We annihilated that scumbag before he could scream.”

I stopped swirling the whip into my coffee. So here Aaron sits, telling me that while the Iew Keftey kill each other for position our clan just destroyed a human? I shuddered. Was this the inner feline we had to learn to control? “We lose ourselves then . . . when we shift?”

“Oh, Lina, no.” Aaron leaned towards my chair. “Aw, I’m sorry. That’s not the image I want in your head at all. No, we wouldn’t ever kill a human unless we felt they were a threat. And we’re still ourselves, even in a feline body.”

“Oh. I guess—yeah, that’s good.”
I suppose you have to do what you have to do to protect your family
. “Sorry, I keep changing the subject. So what happens when a leader dies?”

“Well, order is the first thing we lose. The pack used to have a leader named Clayton. Clayton and Jinalo were the first Shifters from opposite sides to come to terms. They established borderlines running directly through the middle of every western state. Keftey inhabited the top, Miews the bottom. It worked out for a while. We had a sort of truce.”

“But then Jinalo died, and balance with the pack was lost?” I finished. It sounded like typical politics.

“Yeah. On top of that, a power-hungry mutt named Senneth was gathering a rebellion within the pack. When he and his brother learned Jinalo was gone and the clan was leaderless, he challenged Clayton . . . and won. Senneth took over the position of Alpha, and I can tell you it’s been a long time since we’ve seen someone so lethal.”

Aaron rubbed at his temple as though trying to divert a headache. His face had gone a few shades lighter below the freckles. “The boundary lines are gone. Senneth has manipulated and pushed the pack to steal more and more territory from us. And lives . . . so many lives. We have injured refugees filing in from other states all the time. Oregon—thanks to it being home to the West’s headquarters and some of the toughest warriors—is one of few western states that hasn’t been totally taken over. We’re lucky the humans are still oblivious.”

The words were poison to my ears. I shifted uneasily in my chair, feeling very small with this talk of being taken over. Aaron closed his eyes, the pain visible in his features, dark circles under his eyes. How had I not noticed how tired he looked?

“How do we stop them?” I asked. “What’s our method for choosing a leader?”

“I told you; our leaders are chosen for us.” He opened his eyes. “Jinalo was leader because he didn’t shift into just one cat . . . he could shift into any feline that had ever walked the earth. He was bonded to the clan, his strength gave them strength, his power made them more powerful. He was special.” Aaron gave me a meaningful smile.

“Wait.
Special
? You’re kidding me, right?”

He cocked an eyebrow. No answer.

A black cloud settled over me.
This
was the meaning of
special
? Special, as in they think . . . I’m their next leader?

“Please,
please
tell me you’re just playing with me right now. I won’t be mad, I promise.”

Aaron tilted his head, sympathetic. “Scents from around the world. That’s what Cain said to you, right?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“Scents as in, you give off the scents of many felines. It would make sense why he took such an interest in you. You don’t still think his crossing your trail was coincidence, do you?”

“Aaron, what are you saying?”

He shifted in his chair, putting his elbows to his knees. “I’m saying that the Keftey don’t give any kind of special treatment. If you were an ordinary Miew, the scouts wouldn’t have gone spying in your woods. Cain wouldn’t have stood there prying for information in the clearing, especially when you were in Keftey territory. You wouldn’t have seen him in his human form, Lina. He would’ve had his jaws in your throat before you caught a shadow.”

No, no, no
. My fingers were cramping, they were holding so firmly to my cup. This wasn’t true. It couldn’t be true. One week ago, I was a normal girl going to school and work. Now, I was in the middle of some twisted fairytale with half-cat creatures trying to recruit me and monstrous black dogs trying to kill me. Where was reality? Where was the magic mirror I had to step through to get back?

I was edging towards the corner of my chair, free hand crawling towards my purse. The corner we were sitting in seemed to be getting smaller, the walls closing in around me. Claustrophobia attack coming on. I needed air.

“Lina.” Aaron’s eyes shot to the hand by my purse. “What are you doing?”

In a flash, I snatched up my bag and threw it over my shoulder. I was out of the chair and halfway to the front door in seconds.

“
Lina
,” he called, shocked.

The warm breeze wrapped my shoulders as I trotted up the sidewalk.
Crazy, crazy, crazy
. The word wouldn’t leave my head. Quickly, I estimated how far away Mom’s work was from here. The building sat across the street, at the end of Salbridge Road. Ten minutes was a good estimate, maybe five if I ran.

The bells on the coffee shop door jingled. “Lina!”

“Go away!” I called, picking up the speed.

“Lina, what are you doing?! What just happened back there?”

“You’re screwing with me!” I chucked the last of my blondie into a passing trashcan, shaking my head. “Stop playing with my head. I’m tired of you men and your lies.” My dad was a great liar. He’d made my mom believe so many things that hadn’t been true. Maybe lying was programmed into the male brain or something.

“Lina, what the—I am
not
screwing with you. What did I do to make you think I was lying? Are you really denying all the evidence? Please don’t tell me we’re back at square one again.”

“I know who I am, Aaron, and my purpose in life is not to lead—” I passed a couple with three children, all of whom gave me nervous looks as I stormed by. “—people like
you
. I wasn’t born to lead. The whole idea of leading anything gives me a stomach ache. This is
insane
.”

“We’ll teach you.” He trailed close behind now, his feet on my heels. “You think being the Alpha means going in alone? No! You’ll have all of us at the shelter, the clan’s court,
friends
. Dammit, we need you.”

Something clamped around my wrist, yanking me back. I swiveled around to face him, getting the urge to peel my lips back and snarl, but I didn’t. To do so would only add to the pile of proof that all of this was real, that I was changing . . . that I was making up excuses and afraid to face what I knew to be true. Aaron wasn’t lying and meeting Cain was no coincidence.

Somehow, I really was special.

Aaron let me go. I stared at the ground, hands running over my forehead. Slowly, he stepped closer.

“This isn’t something to fear,” he said softly. “You want to know what real fear is? Real fear is searching
every day
for six months for hope and not finding it. Fear is knowing that you’re being hunted, and you can’t stand against the enemy alone. Fear is waking up every morning, wondering if you and your family are going to make it through another day without being invaded.”

His warm fingers crept under my chin, tilting my head away from the ground. I stared into his blue eyes, their gold edges glittering in the sun. I forgot to breathe. Our faces were so close, my jaw tingling in reaction to his touch.

“You’re the first hope we’ve had in months.” He smiled that genuine, perfect smile. “And whether you accept it or not, this is part of you. You can’t run from it.”

He stepped back. I sighed, running the toe of my flat along the sidewalk. I was standing on somebody’s graffiti, a red star under my left foot, and—ironically—the words
GO WITH THE FLOW
under my other.

“What everyone’s been searching for, huh?” I’d been so turned off by the idea of ruling a clan of the clawed, furry, and fanged that I didn’t even think what it could mean. What if these people actually accepted me?
Needed
me?

“It’ll be different than leading group projects,” Aaron added, reading my mind. “I think you’ll like being one of us, if you give it a chance. We’re not your average gang of teenagers. Many aren’t teens at all.”

I nodded, wiping my face. A few tears had escaped during my panic. Everyone at the shelter had welcomed me, proving they weren’t your typical geek-haters. Not that I felt much like a geek these days; I felt more like somebody’s science experiment. Aaron tucked his hands in his pockets, bangs hanging to the side. He looked so honest, so gorgeous.