BETWEEN WORLDS

Amanda Sievert

Chapter One

Why couldn't someone just come along and snatch her up out of here? Just...grab her arm as she was walking down the sidewalk on the way home from school, drag her into their mysterious van- you know, the kind with no windows and a strangely scraped and blurry license plate-and speed off with her inside, taking her not to some weird sex trade in deepest, darkest Mexico but instead to some magical new life? One far away from her controlling parents, her horrible (and clueless) teachers, her "friends" who talked about her as soon as her back was turned.

Poppy sighed as she kicked off her grungy trainers just inside the door of her room (first on the right as soon as you came upstairs). She crossed the mediocre room with its mediocre, teenage girl decor and completely average paint scheme (all chosen by her mom who, despite having an interior design degree, or maybe because of it, had no clue what teenagers really liked apparently) and did a graceful pirouette as she collapsed onto her bed. A squeak escaped both her lungs and the aging mattress, and Poppy flung an arm over her eyes. She had a massive headache, nothing unusual after a typical school day unfortunately, and she fumbled at the drawer in her bedside table, apparently having forgotten how handles worked. Finally her fingers managed to pull the drawer out and she attempted, from her supine, sideways position, to grasp the tiny bottle of naproxen which was always her head's savior. And somehow was completely worthless during "that time of the month".

She sat up to twist off the lid and shake one of the little oblong blue pills into her cupped palm, then recapping the bottle and tossing it back into the drawer with a rattle and crash as it landed among brushes, makeup, perfume bottles, pencils, and more. She wasn't a messy kid, but she wasn't a neat freak like her mom either. She popped the pill into her mouth and swigged some of the Calypso Blue Ocean Lemonade from that morning, swallowing and then swishing another sip around her mouth. She couldn't get enough of that stuff.

With another heavily dramatic sigh, Poppy began digging through her backpack for her homework. She only had a few more questions to answer, although it was advanced calculus and she hated hated HATED all things math with a passion so great that if math were a person she might commit murder just to avoid dealing with it.

As if it were sentient and realized how much she disliked it, the crisp paper slid along the pad of Poppy's index finger, unzipping the skin in a rather long paper cut. A large drop of blood welled up from the sliced flesh, and Poppy inhaled sharply between her teeth, her lips drawing back in a grimace of pain. Paper cuts always seemed to hurt worse than normal, run-of-the-mill cuts.

"Damn it!" Poppy exclaimed, popping her finger into her mouth and sucking away the blood. She aimed a hearty kick at her backpack, sending it rolling under her desk. Screw it, she thought. It was the weekend, anyway. Five stupid math problems could wait until Sunday after supper. She stalked off down the hall to get a band-aid, fumbling open the stupid little cardboard box and dropping three individually wrapped band-aids on the floor, cursing again as she bent down to retrieve them. She slid two of them back into the box and returned the package to its shelf in the medicine cabinet before peeling open the one for her finger. Clotting blood had beaded along the cut in the intervening minutes, and she hissed as she washed it under the cold water of the sink. A quick dry with the fluffy emerald green bath towel that hung near the tub, a dab of antibiotic ointment and a swiftly slapped on band-aid later, and Poppy's finger was right as rain.

She slunk down to the kitchen, scuffing her stockinged feet along the carpet, her hands crammed in her pockets and her long brown hair veiling her face. She only looked up when she reached for the refrigerator door and yanked it open, scanning the contents as her stomach growled. Hmm. Nothing looked very appetizing, although it was filled to overflowing with food that, any other day, would look perfectly delicious to her. She shrugged to herself and grabbed an apple from the crisper drawer and a diet soda from the door, banging the door closed with the side of her butt.

As she passed the table on her way to the couch and the BIG tv in the living room, she noticed the sticky note on the table. Poppy rolled her eyes and set the apple down to read the scrawled writing on the pale pink paper.

"Popstar," she read, shaking her head and rolling her eyes harder at the use of her dad's nickname for her, "we had a meeting at work and don't know when we'll get home. Mom left money in the jewelry box in your room for Chinese or pizza or whatever you want. Sorry, hon, we'll make it up to you sometime. Love, Dad."

"Cool. Chinese for supper. Awesome." Poppy tossed the crumpled note back on the table and flopped in front of the tv, flipping through channels until she found her guilty pleasure; Dr. Phil. Today he was giving hell to some dumb 20-something who evidently LOVED her life as a prostitute, despite being beaten on by her pimp. Ooops, that would apparently be "boyfriend". Ugh. This would be an episode Poppy wouldn't be able to watch without wanting to throw a brick at the girl's perfectly made-up face. She clicked the remote a few more times. Ah, news. Perfect. She settled back into the cushions and took a huge bite out of her apple, chewing noisily as she watched the weather report. More rain, no surprise there, uh-huh, snow crossing the Rockies, yup. Oh. Wait. What was this? She perked forward as the dramatic music for BREAKING NEWS broke into the local broadcast. Lester Holt appeared, wearing his serious face and gripping a sheaf of papers so tightly that his fingers were scrunching the pages. He looked very pale, sick even. Poppy turned up the volume.

"A third victim has been discovered in the ongoing murder investigation in Montana, leading local police in that area to call in the FBI. It is now being treated as the work of a serial killer, as all of the victims have the same identifying marks, apparently the killer's 'calling card'. Residents statewide are being advised to remain home unless it is absolutely necessary to leave, for work or food and necessities. Schools across the state of Montana are being cancelled until the killer is detained, and we are being informed that a home study course will be set up over the next week to keep those children of school age educated and safe. The police in each residential area will be patrolling, keeping their neighborhoods safe, and we assure you all, across the country, that the FBI and the DHS will be working nonstop to catch the person or persons responsible. We will bring you more information as it becomes available. I'm Lester Holt, and I'll see you on the Nightly News in just 45 minutes."

Poppy gulped and set down her half-eaten apple, having suddenly lost her appetite. The news had covered the first two deaths extensively, having attributed them to animal attacks. After all, both victims had been dressed for hiking and were each found in densely wooded areas, covered in scratches and bites and apparently looking half gnawed on. With their throats torn out, no less. But this one...no real information, not yet, and it must not have looked as, um...eaten as the previous two. She cast her panicked gaze to the windows, noticing that it was getting dark. She hurriedly closed the curtains, racing around the house to twitch them all closed and double-check the locks. She locked the door, too, and then curled up on the couch, hugging her knees and rocking a little. During the day Poppy could always be brave, sometimes to the point of stupidity, but at night everything changed. When she could no longer see so far, when something out there in the dark could be staring back and she wouldn't know- then it was very different.

She called the Chinese place for delivery and pounded up the stairs to grab the money, diving back into the safety of the couch to wait. The time seemed interminable before the doorbell dinged and she returned to the living room with her feast, just in time for the Nightly News to come on. Of course they went right into the ongoing investigation, and of course no one had any new information about the murderer. What he might look like, where he might be now, if he had a travel pattern...well. Let's just guess, shall we? Poppy thought, huffing around her mouthful of special fried rice while very carefully managing not to spew any. At least if she got killed now, she thought, she'd die happy with plenty of her favorite food in her belly.

About half an hour later she scooted the nearly empty takeout box onto the coffee table, flopping back into the cushions with a full and satisfied sigh. Her eyes drifted closed. The news hadn't elaborated much further on the breaking story, thankfully. Just a reiteration of what the anchor had said earlier and more warnings to stay close to home until someone said different. Poppy sighed and began to drift off, her head falling to the side. She breathed in the scent of her mom's perfume- grapefruit and dark berries the dominant notes- and her eyes snapped open. What time was it? She flicked her gaze to the wall clock, some large and ornate thing from Sam's Club with many moving parts and music every hour, and registered that it was already a little past 7 p.m. Her parents' meetings never ran that late. Should she call them? What if they were still in the meeting? She might get them in trouble. But if they weren't...if something had happened and they were in trouble.... Or even if they weren't in trouble but were on their way home...she needed to make sure.

Poppy tugged her tiny phone out of the back pocket of her jeans and tapped the number to direct dial her mom, tucking the device between her ear and her shoulder as it rang. And rang. And rang. With a low, frustrated shriek, she closed the connection and shoved the phone back into her pocket as she yanked a thick, grey, oversized sweatshirt over her head and fanned her hair out of the neck hole with both hands. She ran up to her room, taking the stairs two at a time, and grabbed her backpack, dumping the school contents onto her bed and then filling it back up with things for any situation- her pocket knife, a slightly thicker jacket (April in Montana was still cold), some money, her phone charger, her student id card, and several other items. Dashing back downstairs, she stuffed some food and sodas in as well. There was no telling how long it would be before she located her parents. Hell, her mom might have simply forgotten to turn her ringer back up. Poppy cursed under her breath and dialed her dad's number- but it was the same story. No answer. With a scream, she dialed 9-1-1 and shoved her hair out of her face with a shaking hand.

"9-1-1, what's your emergency?"

"My name is Poppy Takala, Meadowsweet Drive. My parents had a meeting at work, but they're still not home, and now they're not answering their phones. They never don't answer their phones."

"How long since you last saw them?" The female voice on the other end sounded vastly bored.

"They went to work this morning after I went to school. When I got home there was a note on the table, telling me about the meeting, but..."

"I'll put out an APB, but we usually don't report people missing until they've been missing for at least twenty-four hours."

Poppy growled into the phone, her fear and frustration palpable. "Fine!" She hung up, wishing she could slam the phone down the way her parents used to be able to do. Pressing a button wasn't nearly as satisfying. She slipped her backpack on and reached for the doorknob, hesitating as her fingers brushed the gold metal. She turned back, going into the kitchen and taking one of the larger knives from the knife block, holstering it carefully between her belt and the waistband of her jeans. Taking a deep breath, she finally opened the door and stepped outside, carefully locking the door behind her.

She gazed down the street, peering into the inky darkness, her warm breaths making small puffs of fog in the chilly, humid air of mid-spring. She gulped and reached up to grip the straps of her backpack nervously, her knuckles turning as white as her French tips. The thick soles of her black combat boots made clunky, clicky sounds as she stepped off the front porch and strode purposefully down the street.

If the police couldn't yet be bothered to look for her parents-then by God, Poppy Marie Takala would.

CHAPTER TWO

Two hours later found Poppy wandering up and down streets she hadn't even known existed in her town. Dark streets. Streets that obviously hadn't been taken care of by city workers in a very long time. Of the streetlights that still worked, most flickered and emitted only a small halo of dim, yellow light that didn't quite reach the ground. The streets themselves were more pothole than road, and Poppy found herself aiming her small flashlight close to the ground to avoid breaking an ankle on the broken pavement.

A loud rustling from the inky blackness beside her made her swing her light up, and she scanned the field nearby with quick, jerky movements, her eyes wide and panicked as her heart pounded in her chest. She reached down to touch her knife with the other hand, her fingers toying with the hilt but hesitant to pull it completely free yet. The rustling continued in spurts, starting with fervent waves of the tall grass and wrinkled weeds, only to stop in deafening silence and resume moments later several feet away. Poppy's heart continued to pound even as she bravely approached the wild darkness beyond the relative safety of the road.

A few steps closer to the field brought an odd, sweetish smell to her nose and she flinched, covering her nose as the realization struck her.

It was the scent of death.

"Please, whatever is out there...please, please don't be another body." She took a hesitant step up onto the crumbling curb, then another into the slightly soggy grass, wincing as her boot squelched rather louder than she would have liked. Step by excruciatingly slow step, her flashlight flickering through the yellowing and wilted foliage. The odor of decomposition grew stronger as she crept forward, passing by the first line of sapling pine trees. She swept the evergreen branches out of her path, grateful when the slight pressure of her hand released the clean scent of the forest and temporarily erased the rotten smell from the air.

A sudden loud crack, followed by a growl in a somewhat higher pitch than she might have expected to hear, startled her into nearly falling over a fallen branch. She grabbed on to the slightly thicker trunk of an older (and very dead) tree to keep from landing in the muck caused by the recent rains, gasping as her alarmed pulse raced. She pressed her hand against her chest, trying to force her heart back down out of her throat where it had inexplicably decided to set up residence.

She shone her light through the increasingly ragged underbrush, biting her lip as she peered through the inky darkness in a vain attempt to locate whatever it was that was making such ungodly noise. It was like the squealing of tires mingled with the screech of a cat in heat and the unearthly growl of something large.

"Please don't be a wolf," Poppy whispered, tightening her grip on the base of her flashlight as she tried desperately to see anything in the deepening woods. "Or a bear. Be something small and easy to run away from...."

A squeal escaped her as the depth and volume of the screechy growling increased, and she slapped her hand over her mouth a moment too late. She was knocked to the ground as something very large, very furry, and very smelly crashed into her, one large cold paw smushed the arm holding the flashlight into the mud, sending the light itself spinning into the side of a tree to break into several useless pieces and plunging Poppy's world into complete darkness.

Poppy bit down hard on her lip to keep from crying out in pain, holding her injured arm as if to hold it together. It felt crushed although she really, really hoped it was just badly bruised. Another paw had also stepped in the middle of her back, but not quite as hard. She was sure that one would be okay for now, though a claw might have scratched along her ribs. There was a warm wetness there that really shouldn't have been particularly warm or wet.

She pushed herself up carefully with her one good arm, struggling to her feet and pulling out her knife. She cradled her sore arm to her side as she slowly made her way further in, her eyes adjusting to the darkness even as her olfactory sense grew more offended by the smell of death. Now she could taste it, and she was sure she had lost her appetite for the rest of her life. She might come out of this adventure a few pounds lighter, depending on how many times she had to vomit.

After several more minutes of walking, she came across...well, whatever it had once been, it was now unidentifiable in nearly every way. Except the one that mattered.

He had obviously been a large man before the thing that had crashed into her decided to make him its midnight snack. Poppy pulled out her phone and quickly reported it, telling the operator that she was headed back home and exactly where home was, if the cops wanted to speak with her. As she was sure they would.

Then she turned back the way she had come. Before she reached her front door, she was at least five pounds lighter.

***

BY THE TIME THE POLICE knocked on the door, Poppy had at least gotten the chance to give her toothbrush a passing glance at her mouth and had tried to wrap something around her arm, which was mostly black and blue and a deep pinkish purple. There was also another scratch, more of a gash really, in the tender flesh of her inner arm, to match the one over her ribs which she couldn't quite manage to do much with. Thankfully the cops had brought along an EMT to assist them "just in case".

"You said it was a large animal of some kind?" The officer asked kindly, his accent very Canadian. Poppy nodded as the EMT gently disinfected and bandaged the wound near her back before beginning to tend to her arm. "I only ask because that one on your back there looks like someone punched you and then tried to stab you...."

"No, sir. It was something massive. I don't think it was a bear- it didn't sound right- but it stunk to high heaven."

"When you say it didn't sound right...."

"I mean it sounded like, I dunno, a wolverine or something. At least, what wolverines and badgers sound like on YouTube, you know?" The officer nodded, so Poppy continued. "But it was- ow!- too big to be anything like that."

"Did it try to bite you at all?" The EMT asked as she unwrapped Poppy's arm carefully, wincing along with the girl when she hit an especially tender area. They both sucked in a swift, whistling intake of air when the wound was exposed. "Damn," the EMT cursed under her breath, and Poppy smirked slightly before responding.

"No. Just sorta bowled me over, stepped on me a couple times, and ran off. Um. Toward the street, though, so you might want to be really careful out there. I wish I had more info to give, I really do, I just...."

"It's fine," the officer soothed. "Completely understandable, given what you went through. Still no sign of your parents, but we'll keep looking." His cell rang, and he motioned that he'd be back in just a moment as he answered and stepped away. Poppy could still hear his voice, a low hum in the background, but she was watching in exhausted fascination as the EMT dabbed some ointment on her arm before rewrapping it in clean gauze.

"You need to make a visit to Doc tomorrow," the woman said softly. "Patch job like this doesn't replace clinical care, okay?" Poppy nodded and thanked her as she walked away and the policeman returned, slipping his phone back in his pocket.  

"My guys said they recovered the body you found, and it isn't anyone they, uh, recognize from around here." The officer paused and Poppy breathed a sigh of relief. "However," he began, and she held her breath again, "we'll still need you to come down to the station and make an official statement. It can wait til morning though. You're probably exhausted, eh? I'll head out. You get to bed, and don't worry about anything tonight. I'll have a couple of the deputies patrol around here and keep an eye out. See you tomorrow, miss." The officer cocked his hat at her as he left, so Poppy clipped him a smart salute and a smile, following to lock the door behind him. She cleared away the detritus of her medical care, tossing it in the trash before she flipped the downstairs lights off and dragged herself up to her room.

She barely managed to kick off her shoes (and think to herself that she really should have done that before trudging all through the house in them) before falling into her bed. Grateful that she never saw the need to make her bed, she drew the covers up to her chin, tucking her fists beneath her jaw as though she were five instead of fifteen.

She was deeply asleep before her head had fully settled into the pillow.

CHAPTER THREE

––––––––

"DEAR DIARY,

"So...it's been three months and change since mom and dad went missing. Aunt Jasey moved in with me to keep me from getting sucked into the system. She got me this journal to keep track of my thoughts. It helps. A little. Better than nothing. None of my friends understand, of course. None of their parents ever just...disappeared.

"Aunt Jasey's calling me for supper. I'll write more later. Glad she got me this thing. It really does help."

Poppy closed the leather journal and secured the fancy latch. It didn't really lock anything, but there was something satisfying about flipping the claw-like hook into the loop closure, then wrapping the rough-yet-supple leather cord around the entire book before tucking the end into itself. She tucked her journal into the back of her pants and let her long t-shirt fall to cover the slight bulge made by its presence. A quick glance in the mirror to yank her hair into a messy bun and secure it into place with an alligator clip, and she hurried down the stairs.

As she went she pondered to herself over the last three months. No new bodies found, no news of her parents, no strange Giant Badger Creatures discovered. It was eerily silent for the hinterlands of Montana in the winter. She slid into her seat at the table, sniffing gratefully at the offerings there. Aunt Jasmine might sometimes be a little "spaced out", but she was a damn fine cook. Her famous loaded twice-baked potatoes were sitting centerstage, as well as a huge platter of boneless ribs smothered in onions and sauce, and an enormous salad.

"Are we having company over?" Poppy asked. Her aunt had invited several of Poppy's teachers over at one point or another since her arrival, asking generalized questions, learning what (if anything) her niece needed help with. The responses had been nearly unanimous in saying that she was an excellent student who occasionally crapped out in math class. Jasmine had vowed to help as best she could, and that was that.

"No, it's just us tonight," Jasey said, returning to the table with two glasses filled with crushed ice (bagged, from Sonic) and soda. She set one down in front of Poppy and took a sip from hers before sitting down. She plucked her napkin off the table, shook it out, and laid it across her lap, then reached for the rib plate. "I'm just feeling extremely hungry tonight."

"Oh. Okay. Wow," Poppy said, watching wide-eyed as her aunt put rib after succulent rib on her plate, "you really are starving. Did you skip lunch or something?"

Jasey shook her head, finally passing the platter to her niece. "No, matter of fact I had two huge cheeseburgers and a large basket of fried pickles at the office. I must be stressed or something," she shrugged, forking salad beside her ribs.

Poppy smirked and nabbed a potato while she could. "Are you sure you aren't pregnant?"

Jasmine sputtered around her soda, setting the glass down with a thunk and an embarrassed chuckle.

"Um, pretty sure. I'm on a two-year dry spell. No love life, no baby."

Poppy shrugged and dug in, stuffing her face with the delicious meal before her. Her aunt might be clumsy and awkward in nearly every social situation, yet stick her in the kitchen and she became a culinary goddess. Poppy couldn't help the little moan of delight that escaped her as she ate and all too soon her plate was empty. She glanced up, thinking to help herself to some more salad or something, only to find every platter and plate on the table had been scraped clean. She cut her gaze to the side and watched in disbelief as her aunt literally licked her plate clean, then sucked rib sauce from her fingertips and still looked hungry.

"Aunt Jasey?" She inquired softly. "You might want to go get checked out at the hospital. What if you have worms or something?"

"Yeah," Jasmine said, her gaze seeming glassy as she stood and set her napkin on the table. She gazed at the mess of dishes and seemed torn between helping clean up and going to get her jacket and car keys. Poppy stood and put a hand on Jasmine's arm.

"Hey. Don't worry about it, okay? I'll clean up. Get yourself to the hospital." Jasmine nodded and gathered her things, and Poppy heard the front door open and close as she set plates and silverware in the sink to rinse.

She studied the door, hearing the car door slam, the engine roar to life, and the crunch of gravel under the tires as her aunt left for a checkup. Decisively, she sat at the kitchen table and scribbled in her journal, her pen moving fast and furious as she recounted the occurrences of supper. Finishing quickly, she moved to the kitchen, rinsing and loading the dishes in the dishwasher and setting it to start in four hours. Then she decided to return upstairs to continue reading her book for school and wait for her aunt to return, hopefully with a good prognosis.

***

"POPPY MARIE! ARE YOU home!" Jasmine's voice rang out through the house as she hung her jacket in the closet and set her earmuffs and gloves on the shelf beneath before yanking off her boots and shunting them toward the boot rack and closing the door. "Poppy? Helloooooo!"

Thumpthumpthumpthumpthump! Poppy jumped the last three steps and skidded across the floor on landing, grabbing the newel post with both hands and part of an arm to stop herself slamming into the opposing wall.

"You're back! Well, what'd they say? Are you pregnant or do you have worms?"

Jasmine lovingly smacked Poppy upside the head as she passed by heading into the living room. "Neither, kiddo. I had to get blood drawn," she said, pulling a face as she flopped down on the couch. She touched the taped-over cotton ball in the crook of her arm. "Not the best lab tech I've ever had, but what're ya gonna do? The doctor, though- whew! Total hottie."

"Really?" Poppy said, scooting her chair closer. Fifteen was ripe boy-hunting time, after all. She managed to look chagrined when Jasmine glanced sharply at her, but only a little. "What'd he look like?"

Jasmine got a far-off look in her grey eyes as she thought on the handsome doctor. "Dark hair, almost black and pretty short. Messy, like he'd just rolled out of bed-"

"Well, he's a doctor. He might have just, you know?"

"Do you want to hear this or are you gonna keep interrupting me?" Jasmine muttered through her teeth. Poppy raised her hands in surrender and sat back a little, motioning for her aunt to continue. Jasey cleared her throat.

"Anyway, messy hair, little cleft in his chin...you wouldn't even notice it if you weren't staring at him for awhile. Gorgeous blue eyes, I mean gorgeous, okay? Like, they almost glow kind of gorgeous...anyway. And his voice...ohhh, girl..." Jasmine shuddered delicately. "It was weird, though. I was really worked up, like anxious and kinda...angry for some reason. Well, you saw me when I left here. That, but getting worse. But when he started talking...it all just left. Seeped away, and I felt calm and relaxed. He said they were going to run some tests on my blood, just to rule out some things that might cause the hunger and weird mood changes as a side effect, and there was really nothing to worry about. And you know...I'm not. Worried about it, I mean."

Poppy just watched her for a moment, looking for the weird behavior of the last few days, but her aunt's eyes seemed clearer and her demeanor was calm. She smiled and relaxed and patted Jasey's hand.

"Okay. If you aren't worried then I won't be, either. Are you hungry now? Want anything?"

Jasmine considered, then shook her head. "No, I'm good. Think I'm gonna head on up, but go ahead and make something if you want."

Poppy nodded and wished Jasmine goodnight as she herself headed back into the kitchen. Suddenly the idea of a sandwich and some chips was too good to pass up. As she went, she shook her head and smirked at her aunt's reaction to the Hot Doctor. Adults were weird sometimes. But then again...maybe she ought to accompany Jasey to the hospital when her bloodwork was returned. Just to see for herself that everything was above board, of course. It had absolutely NOTHING to do with seeing just how cute the doctor was. Nothing at all.

She smacked the loaf of bread on the counter, followed by the jar of honey roasted peanut butter and the Claussen pickle slices from the fridge. She popped a slice of bread into each of the four slots of the toaster and tapped her knife against the counter as she waited, jumping when the toast leapt up. Stupid toaster.

After creating her masterpieces, she took her food-laden plate to her room and resumed her book where she'd left off- with the werewolves gathered in a dojo, fighting over the honor of their Alpha. Not typical reading for a book report, but Poppy considered herself far from a typical teenager.

CHAPTER FOUR

It was barely past sunrise when Poppy woke the morning of Jasey's return trip to the hospital to receive the reports on her bloodwork. She turned a bleary gaze to her window and smiled to see the huge, lazy flakes of snow falling rapidly from the pale grey sky. After months of cold weather, it was nice to finally have snow instead of sleet and freezing rain, even if it was in the middle of April.

She hopped up from her warm layers of blankets, hurrying into the shower before her aunt could hog it. Sure, there was a second one downstairs, but this one was nicer in Poppy's opinion. All of her mom's shower gels and lotions and things were up here. The downstairs bathroom held only the bare basics.

Poppy climbed in under the warm spray gratefully, and soon she smelled of vanilla and apples. Feeling much more alive and awake, she wrapped a towel around herself and padded barefoot back to her room to dry her long hair and get dressed. On her way, before closing her door, she hollered to her aunt that the bathroom was free.

She shuffled through the clothes hanging in her closet, disregarding her usual choices of sweatshirts, t-shirts, and hoodies. She wanted to look at least halfway decent, if this doctor Jasmine had described was really THAT hot. She decided on a soft, long-sleeved shirt in pale pink with creamy white lace across the shoulders, and a pair of pale, nearly white jeggings. There. Now she looked feminine, but hopefully badass too, once she put on her combat boots. She chose long socks that she ruched above her boot tops, and finally shrugged into the leather jacket her grams had given her the year before. Tying her hair up and glancing at herself in the mirror, she added the tiniest bit of makeup before judging herself "boy-worthy". She shook her head. That doctor was probably fifty, anyway. No way he could be as hot as her aunt insisted.

There was a scream from down the hall, followed by several loud thumps and an even louder cracking sound. Poppy flung open her door and scrambled toward the bathroom, coming to a screeching halt at the bathroom door. She grabbed the door jamb to hold herself steady as she looked in past the rolling steam, searching for Jasmine at eye level but not seeing her. She cast her gaze downward and let out a small scream and a gasp, covering her mouth with her hand.

Jasmine appeared to have slipped in the tub. Her still form lay beneath the running shower, blood trickling from her forehead where she must have hit the faucet, turning the water red as it swirled toward the drain. Her left arm rested over the side of the tub at a very odd angle, the bone itself poking out in at least two places.

Poppy raced across the room, turning the shower off and grabbing a towel to cover Jasmine with. She noticed as she did these things that her aunt was still breathing, that she was, in fact, still conscious as she whimpered and moaned with every touch of Poppy's careful fingers.

"Hold still, Aunt Jasey," Poppy said, her voice quivering on the edge of panic. "I'm calling the hospital. They'll be here soon but you have to stay still."

Jasmine moaned in response, but it was, at the very least, a response of some kind. Poppy had no idea what to do if her aunt lost consciousness. She carefully pulled her aunt's long black hair out of her face as they waited for the ambulance, holding a second, much larger bath blanket in her lap where she sat on the toilet lid, her leg nervously jiggling up and down as she gnawed on one of her manicured fingernais.

There was movement from the tub, and Poppy looked into her aunt's face. Jasmine grimaced, seemingly attempting to sit up, and Poppy reached toward her. But then, quickly, she drew back as though faced with a viper. As she watched, the gash in her aunt's forehead began to close, knitting itself back together as though healing in fast forward. Her arm began emitting creaks and pops as the bone rearranged itself. Poppy's eyes were as wide as saucers, and she leaned away from Jasmine as she watched the broken bone knit and regrow before her very eyes.

Just then there was a banging on the door as the ambulance arrived. Poppy hurried down to let them in, still in shock.

"I...I guess we don't need help after all," she told them as they checked her aunt over, cleaning the blood away from both the completely smooth forehead and the perfect arm, finding nothing of course. They asked Jasmine several yes or no questions: Had she gotten dizzy before she fell? Did her head hurt? Was she dizzy now? How many fingers am I holding up? Jasmine answered all of them succinctly, and apparently the EMTs were satisfied. They packed up their med kits and left, nodding to Poppy and telling her in no uncertain terms to call them again if her aunt's behavior changed. Poppy agreed and closed the front door, leaning her forehead against the cold wood and taking a few deep, centering breaths before returning upstairs.

As she entered the bathroom, Jasey was standing on the purple-grey bathroom rug, wrapping the bath blanket around herself with slow, pained movements. She looked up, her dark eyes wide, and her mouth opened a little. The movement was oddly different from the way her mouth usually moved, and after gazing at her aunt for a moment it struck Poppy what exactly was so different in it.

Jasmine's lower jaw was extended slightly, jutting forward from her face almost like a bulldog's, though her bottom teeth still looked normal. Her upper teeth, however, particularly the canines on either side, had elongated and grown much sharper. The rest of the upper teeth were strangely shaped, irregular and dingier in color than their usual, almost pristine whiteness.

"Aunt Jasey?" Poppy asked as she approached slowly. "Your teeth...."

Tears filled Jasmine's eyes as she began to tremble. She groaned loudly, falling to her knees on the floor, clasping the towel tightly in front of her breasts. She crouched there, shaking, as the softest squishy shushing came from the region of her averted face. When she looked up again, her face had returned to normal except for the pair of lonely tears trailing a path down her cheeks.

"What the hell is happening to me?" She asked Poppy, her voice hoarse. The younger girl helped her to her feet and brushed her tears away, shaking her head instead of immediately responding.

"I don't know," she finally said, pulling Jasmine's hair away from her face and soothing her with long strokes of the hairbrush through her aunt's long black tresses. "Hopefully the doctor will have an answer." Jasmine nodded sullenly before offering Poppy a halfhearted smile and pushing her out the door with promises that she was fine and would be out momentarily.

Poppy leaned against the wall outside the bathroom, arms crossed over her chest, and settled in to wait. Just in case.

CHAPTER FIVE

When Jasmine finally emerged, her features were completely free of the strange transformation from earlier, with not even a hint that anything out of the ordinary had happened at all. She wore a hoodie which partially concealed her face in shadows, and Poppy understood the desire to hide. She, too, wore a dark, oversized hoodie, her hands even pulled up into the sleeves as her fingers grasped the edges of them tightly, twisting them into little knots that she could worry at.

They drove to the hospital in silence, each of them thinking over what had happened, neither of them sure how to broach the subject. It was decided somehow, by silent agreement, to bring it up to the doctor and otherwise completely avoid any mention of it.

"Well, the good news is that there is nothing inherently dangerous or deadly in your blood," said the doctor. His voice was soft, a raspy tenor that was utterly calm and soothing. He had introduced himself to Poppy with a lopsided grin and a firm, warm handshake, his bright blue eyes twinkling at her mischievously as he told them that his name was "Isaiah. Doctor Isaiah...um. Uh, Doctor Isaiah Laecanius."

Poppy had cocked a bemused smile as he maintained his grasp on her hand and continued shaking it up and down slowly. "Laecanius? That sounds almost...noble...."

Currently, he perused Jasmine's medical file, his lips pressed together in a firm line as his eyes scanned each line of type. He flipped a page, flipped it back, made a grunting noise, and returned to the second page. Finally Poppy rolled her eyes and chuffed, crossing her arms.

"Well?" She asked gruffly. "What is it, if she's not dying."

The young man (possibly as old as forty but maybe as young as twenty-seven or so, he had one of those faces that could be any age) glanced up at Poppy with a twinkle of humor in his eyes and slapped the file closed, setting it aside and leaning a hip against the edge of the side table where he had placed it, crossing his long arms across his slender chest.

"You'll never believe me."

She quirked an eye at him, her dark grey eyes with their amber flecks meeting his Caribbean blue ones in abject challenge. "Try me," she said sotto voce. In the hospital bed, her legs hanging over the side, Jasmine cocked her head as her brow furrowed. Isaiah's gaze flashed from Poppy to her aunt as he carefully considered whether they could handle the information he was about to offer.

With a shrug, attempting nonchalance he did not feel, he pushed away from the table and began to slowly pace. "You see, Miss Jameson-"

"Jasmine," the patient interrupted with an anxious smile, twisting her fingers in her lap. "Or Jasey. You can call me either one, it's fine."

Isaiah smiled at her indulgently and patted her hands before gently applying a little pressure in order to still them.

"Jasmine," he said softly, and something in his tone of voice made her visibly relax. Poppy could even see the pulse in her throat begin to slow to a more normal rate. "There is nothing wrong with you. You aren't dying, you don't have some mysterious disease. What is happening with you is a simple matter of genetics." At this Poppy's eyes widened slightly, and as though something were just now occurring to her or perhaps tickling at the edges of her mind, she sank down into the chair near the bed in a semblance of shock. Isaiah spared her a concerned glance, then continued his explanation.

"It is a genetic mutation, Jasmine. One which lay dormant in your blood for your entire life, up until the very week when you first came to have your blood drawn at the insistence of your niece here," he motioned to Poppy, who stared at him through eyes full of wonder. He could practically feel the questions simmering beneath the surface, and he held up a finger as though to say she could voice them quite soon. "This mutation will not hurt you in any way, do you hear me? It isn't harmful. But you may begin experiencing even stranger things than, say- dizziness and dental reorganization. Your senses will grow vastly more acute. Your body will, eventually, begin to change in drastic and fantastic ways...although there's no telling what your final form will be until the next full moon, which is still, thankfully, nearly a month away."

"Why 'thankfully'?" Poppy asked. Her voice was small, as though she were a child far younger than her actual age.

Isaiah turned to her slowly, flicking his tongue out to moisten his lips before answering her. "Because...?-"

"Poppy," she whispered, "my name's Poppy."

"Poppy," he answered, crouching before her and taking her cold hands in his and rubbing his long fingers gently along hers to warm them. "A longer length of time before the full moon means that your aunt will have a greater chance to learn how to control...well. Whatever her inner creature turns out to be."

"How do you know all this? I mean, it almost sounds like...-"

"-Like...I'm one too?" He asked, nodding along as he said it when Poppy and Jasmine began waggling their heads up and down. He shot them a sheepish grin full of beautifully white teeth with unusually sharp incisors and scritched the side of his head. "That's probably because I am. I mean...obviously I can't drop on all fours right here and now and show you." He uttered a sharp, barking sort of laugh as Jasmine and Poppy glanced between each other and him, their faces caught somewhere between amusement and disbelief.

"So...what happens now?" Jasmine asked tremulously. Isaiah offered her yet another comforting smile and a wave of something swept through the room, immediately calming them like the soothing scent of lavender and chamomile and vanilla.

"I would like, if I may, to take you to see some friends of mine. Well, honestly more like family. I call them my father and brothers, actually. Our Pack has been together for a very long time." He said "Pack" with a capital P, as though it were the name of an elite organization.

Maybe it was.

Jasmine was nodding and Poppy stood, approaching her in a few quick strides and grasping her aunt's hand between her own. Two pairs of brindled grey-and-amber eyes met Isaiah's blue ones, a pair of stubborn chins lifted, and a double set of lungs filled shakily with sterile hospital air.

"Okay," Jasmine agreed. "As long as Poppy can come, too."

Isaiah studied them for a long moment, then, finally, nodded.

"I think that would be a very good idea."

CHAPTER SIX

"This is their house?" Jasmine asked. Poppy nodded slowly from the passenger seat, her mouth agape as they stared through the windshield (and the sleet) at the huge house at the end of the shell-covered drive. The car slowly rolled closer to the big stone-and-brick building and, as they got closer, more details emerged.

The entire lower one-third of the house was comprised of a raw-cut, quartz like stone which sparkled even in the low light offered by the stormy day. The upper two-thirds were smooth red brick, stacked together with clean white mortar evenly spaced between each brick. The roof was crafted like that of an old Italian villa, with multicolored clay tiles, and the windows all had beautiful shutters on either side, painted a light green that complemented the lower part of the house, almost like moss. The overall effect was as though they had stepped back in time, even to another country. The house was surrounded by a thick evergreen forest. The drive, paved in small, smooth seashells, was pristine. It was indeed "pretty as a picture".

Poppy stepped out of the car first and practically bounded up to the front door (tall, wide, knotty-pine with iron fixtures and a gargoyle head knocker), then turned to watch Jasey approach hesitantly, clasping her tiny red handbag in front of her like a shield. Exasperated, Poppy grabbed her aunt's arm and yanked her up the three shallow steps to stand beside her as she rapped her knuckles on the wood, neglecting the ugly little knocker out of principle.

They waited for only a moment before the door opened, revealing not only Isaiah but two other extremely handsome men. Isaiah smiled and stepped aside, waving the two young women in. Poppy took Jasmine by the hand, pulling her into the house along with her when her aunt hesitated and seemed ready to bolt back to the car.

They entered a vast kitchen area, and even as Poppy gazed around her wide-eyed, she first noticed the smell of the place. It smelled of pine forests and snow, of apples and green grass, of fallen oak leaves and herbs. It smelled like...home. Or what home should smell like. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply, and by doing so she completely missed the look that passed between the men standing around her, a look that said I wonder.

"So, um...welcome," Isaiah said softly, spreading his arms in an awkward little half-bow. He motioned to the other two men in the room. "That's Legend, over there in the bomber jacket-" The man with the chiseled face, sexy full lips, and greenish-gold eyes tipped an imaginary hat to them, and they both giggled behind their hands. "-and that one by the coffee bar is Owen. He's...well, more of a father figure."

Poppy eyed Owen appreciatively. He was a bit older than Legend and Isaiah, as well as a few inches shorter. He had neatly trimmed facial hair framing a slightly heart-shaped face, and his eyes were a dark amber speckled with tiny brown flecks that made her think of sunbeams shining through root beer. The corner of his mouth lifted, and she smiled back at him.

"Y'all want anythin’ to drink?" Legend asked, his deep voice absolutely dripping with a Texas drawl. "We've got pretty much anythin’ y'all could want."

"Um...I'll have a soda, if you have any," Jasmine said nervously, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. Poppy nodded. Legend swung a long leg over the bar stool upon which he was perched and strode to the refrigerator, pulling out two glass bottles which he brought over to them.

"Sarsaparilla," he said with a cocky grin. "Twist-off caps. We keep it classy around here."

Poppy closed her eyes appreciatively as she sipped, savoring the taste of the soda as she swished it across her tongue. As she drank, Isaiah approached and offered his arm to Jasmine.

"Let me show you around, and you can decide whether to stay and let us help you with your furry little problem," he said, humor bubbling beneath the smooth tone of his voice. Jasey placed her hand on his arm and allowed him to lead her through the house, pointing out the various rooms as he spoke quietly to her about the things she would be learning. It was almost like an apprenticeship, he explained, which once completed she would be perfectly able to continue with life as usual, her daily schedule almost entirely unaltered. The only exception would be her unfailing consumption, three nights of every month, of an herbal concoction of his own creation which helped with the more intense "issues" around the full moon.

Jasmine stared at him as though he had sprouted two extra heads. "The full moon? You're joking, right? I thought you were just joking when you said that at the hospital.Please tell me you're joking...you mean, like a werewolf? Awoo, howling, trying to eat people...no. No way!"

Isaiah bit his lip and nodded almost sheepishly. "Yeah, I'm afraid so. But listen, it's not quite that bad. Most Shifters only feel a greater desire to drop to all fours and run really fast during the full moon. Well, unless you're one of the ones that sprout wings...or scales...um, which you aren't. Poppy's seen that you have fur, so...."

Jasmine managed to glare at him wide-eyed. He loosened his collar with a finger and gulped, then continued showing her around in near complete silence.

The house was two stories, the lower level consisting of a huge living area, an equally large kitchen with a long butcher-block table situated by a sprawling bay window, two spacious bathrooms with garden tub AND shower in each, and a large media room. The floors were a grey-stained river birch material, with extremely unique patterns in the wood like nothing Poppy had ever seen before. She followed Isaiah and her aunt around, looking at everything with immense curiosity, sometimes touching a wall (in the case of the textured wallpaper) or stroking a fabric (the silky curtains in what would become her aunt's bedroom upstairs). All of the bedrooms were upstairs, six of them in fact. And two more bathrooms. The place was massive.

"So...are you guys related?" Poppy asked Isaiah as the trio went back downstairs. He laughed and shook his head.

"No," he replied, "we just sort of...found each other. See, Owen is our Alpha. Our leader. It's a long story, better saved for another time. Suffice it to say, we felt a pull, an insistent tug on our brains, to come here and form a Pack. And we help other Shifters when they come into their...well, their power, I guess you'd say." He pulled out a chair at the table as they returned to the kitchen. "We're going to help your aunt get a firm hold on her Shifterness, to coin a phrase. As for how we can help you...we think we can help you to locate your mom and dad."

Poppy turned a hopeful gaze on him. "You do? You think they're still alive? I mean, its been over three months...even the police have basically given up."

Isaiah nodded. He sat in a chair next to her and took her hand, scrubbing his thumb across her knuckles. "Yeah, I think we can. See, being what we are, we have excellent senses. Especially a sense of smell. So...yeah."

Poppy grinned and impulsively threw herself at Isaiah, wrapping her arms around his neck in a firm hug. "Oh my god! Thank you! Thank you so much!"

Isaiah grinned as he gently returned her embrace. "I can't promise anything, but we do have ways of searching that the police don't."

"Don't any Shifters work jobs in security or law enforcement?" Jasmine asked, taking a drink of her sarsaparilla.

"Not many, sadly," Isaiah said. "It's too difficult to pass the random drug tests when your blood comes back with strange antibodies and weird DNA all the time. Most Shifters choose careers that either don't require screenings or have simple, urine-based ones that we can plan for and easily bypass."

"Hey, Isaiah? Buddy, we gotta go for a run, I'm feelin' the need for a little hunt." Legend set his empty bottle down with a thunk and stood, offering a hand to Poppy. She accepted, and he pulled her to her feet, whistling as he gave her an appreciative once-over. "Man, you are gonna be a looker in a couple years, kid. You and your aunt head on home now, and Jasmine?" His gaze flicked over to the woman who was leaning a hip against the table. She hummed in her throat, the only response she could make with a mouth full of soda. Legend smiled and nodded at her. "You get some stuff together, okay? We'll see you tomorrow afternoon. Get you moved in and settled. And we'll get a room ready for you too, kid," he said, ruffling Poppy's hair. "Go on- y'all get outta here. We gotta go hunt something."

CHAPTER SEVEN

Four piles of neatly folded laundry, one pile of devices and chargers (including her e-reader- she wasn't stupid), her favorite teddy bear (white, fluffy, and holding a golden heart), and one extra pair of shoes later, Poppy was almost ready to pull her luggage set down from the closet and begin packing. She was vastly hopeful that the Pack would locate her mom and dad soon, so she didn't want to take too much with her. She looked at it like a mini-vacation. At least as far as she herself was concerned, although she was excited that her aunt would be taken care of and taught how to control her Changes.

As she lugged the huge suitcase and its accompanying duffel and toiletry case to her bed, she wondered what it would be like to wake up one morning in a different body. A body with fur, or feathers, or scales. With weird new teeth, and heightened senses. She considered what kind of creature she'd shift into. Maybe something big and beautiful, like a wolf or a tiger...or even a bear. What if she were something like a porcupine though? Or a slimy little salamander?

Poppy shook her head and tied her hair up in a messy bun to keep it from falling in her face while she organized her things. She layered her laptop and e-reader between her clothes and her favorite blanket, tucking the chargers into the inner mesh pocket of the duffel bag alongside the laptop battery. She tucked in the spare shoes, then the bear, and placed the toiletry bag inside the suitcase. The tiny bag held only a selection of jewelry, a bottle of Unicorn Tears perfume, and her deodorant stick. She had tossed her shampoo and shower gel in the duffel bag, wrapped in Ziploc bags in case they leaked.

She zipped everything up, then sat on the edge of her bed with a sigh, looking around her room. Packing seemed so...so final. She felt a little lost, if she were being honest with herself. What if her parents were dead? Or if they'd been taken so far away that there was no way for the Pack to find them?

"Poppy," her aunt called up the stairs, "Owen's here. Are you ready to go?"

Poppy stood and walked to her door as though in a trance. "Yes," she called back down, her voice sounding thin and shaky to her own ears. "I'll be right down."

Suddenly Isaiah popped his head around the corner, his fingers wrapping around the doorjamb. "Need any help? I can grab a bag...?"

Poppy smiled sadly at him and gestured toward the bed. "Sure. Pick one, ha." She huffed a laugh, and Isaiah gently squeezed her shoulder in a gesture of solidarity. "I'm okay, Isaiah," she said, " really. It's just-leaving is really weird, you know? I've never been away from this house for more than a sleepover at a friend's house. A one-night thing. And then I'd come back home and complain about being stuck with nowhere to go. But now...."

"But now things are uncertain," Isaiah finished her unspoken thought. "Your folks are missing. What if they come home and you aren't here? I know. But that's unlikely to happen. Legend has already begun the search, that's why he didn't come with us today. He went for a run, decided he'd go along the less common hiking trails, sniff around the old warehouse district. See what he can see. We'll get you two settled in, get something to eat, and wait for him to get back. If he finds anything, he'll let us know as soon as he gets back. Okay?"

Poppy nodded and let out a puff of air as she slung the duffel across her shoulder. Isaiah took the suitcase, showing surprise at how light it was. Poppy shrugged.

"I don't want to bring too much, if that's cool. It's just that I hope I won't be staying long. No offense."

Isaiah gave a strangely feline mewl of a laugh, and Poppy quirked an eyebrow at him.

"I understand, and I don't take offense. None of us do. But-we want you to know that you're family now. Even if you never shift, you have a Shifter in your bloodline. Possibly more than one. So that means we'll always have your back. Be there to protect you, even from yourself if it ever comes to that. Got it, kid?"

"Yeah," she said softly, gazing into his azure eyes in something like awe. "Yeah, I think I've got it. Thanks, Isaiah."

***

OWEN GREETED HER WITH a soft smile and a firm handshake when she finally descended the stairs. As one hand clasped hers warmly, the other surreptitiously took the duffel from her shoulder and set it beside them on the floor. That hand then covered the top of hers as he gazed into her face, taking the measure of her with his dark, whiskey colored eyes. Poppy felt as though she were being drawn by her core into a place that was warm, calm, and safe. She studied him in return, as Jasmine and Isaiah looked on. The air itself seemed to vibrate with the strange energy of the quartet, and Poppy felt as though she could see the ripples caused by their mutual acceptance of one another.

"Shall we?" Owen inquired at last, gently releasing both her hand and her soul back to her own possession. She gave herself an almost doglike shake as he broke gazes with her to bend slightly and retrieve her bag, slinging it over his shoulder and hauling it to the SUV, then placing it between two of Jasmine's larger, fuller bags. Isaiah laid her purple suitcase on top and closed the door, giving it a push to be sure it closed solidly. Satisfied, he opened the back passenger-side door for the two young women to get in, ensuring that all limbs were safely inside before closing it with a metallic thud. He slid into the front passenger seat and secured his seat belt, glancing at Owen and giving the Alpha a subtle nod. Owen nodded back and put the vehicle in gear, pulling away slowly down the drive, letting Jasmine and Poppy have one final farewell to the family home. After all, despite hoping otherwise, it might well be a long time before any of them returned.

CHAPTER EIGHT

They were gathered in the living room chatting when Legend arrived home late that night. He was sweating despite the frigid temperatures outside, and there was exhaustion in his chiseled face. Even his usually twinkling greenish-gold eyes were dull and weary. He plopped down into the first armchair he came to, his arms draping over the sides as he slumped down, his long legs stretching out before him. In fact, were it not for the rise and fall of his diaphragm, he would have seemed dead.

"Legend?" Owen inquired taking a hesitant step forward, his lightly accented voice pitched low. "Are you okay, son?"

Legend made a sound that seemed in the affirmative. Then he shook his head back and forth in the negative. His eyes were closed, yet he seemed to be regaining some color the longer he sat perfectly still.

"Well which is it?" Isaiah asked. He approached the chair swiftly, making no sound whatsoever, laying the palm of his hand to Legend's forehead, grimacing a little at the moist sensation of cold sweat against his skin. "What did you find? Anything?"

Jasmine narrowed her eyes slightly, her lips parting as she seemed to scent the air with the tip of her tongue between her teeth. Poppy glanced at her aunt sharply but said nothing, shifting her gaze back to the tableau before her. Isaiah was busily going through the typical motions of checking vitals; pulse, breathing, peeling back Legend's eyelids to check his pupil dilation, etc. At last Legend seemed to have had enough, for he brushed Isaiah's hands away in irritation, fluttering his fingers in a "go away now" motion. Isaiah shook his head in exasperation but took a couple steps back, giving his "brother" some breathing room.

"I didn't find your folks," the seated Shifter said, turning his head to look at Poppy. "I checked out the woods, a couple run-down strip malls where some hobos and drifters like to hang out, even went down around the old warehouse district. I picked up a scent, smelled like what I got off the shirts you gave us. But it just led me around chasing my tail, literally. I finally just had to give up and come home."

"So, nothing? Are you sure?" Poppy gave Jasmine a strange look again, and this time she wasn't alone in doing so. Three sets of male eyes joined her in confusion and not a little irritation. Jasey glanced around from Shifter to Shifter, then finally at her niece and shrugged, her dark eyes widening. "What? I'm worried, that's all. Shouldn't your...you know, your Shifter senses have picked up something?"

Legend huffed. "Trust me, I tried my damnedest. Kinda hard to filter through layers of burnt rubber, dust, gasoline and oil, and all the god-awful smells in Hobo-ville."

"It's fine, Legend," Poppy interrupted, glancing between him and her aunt as she sought to diffuse the situation. "I know you tried. There's always tomorrow. I mean, they've been missing this long...."

"We'll try again tomorrow," Isaiah affirmed, touching her shoulder gently and looking into her eyes. She returned his soft smile with one of her own and reached up to touch his hand as Jasmine looked on with something like jealousy stirring behind her gaze.

"I say we all go to sleep now, or at least try," Owen said. It sounded like a request but they could all feel the command beneath. "Plenty of time to jabber at breakfast, and then we can begin your training in earnest, Miss Jasmine."

***

SHE WAS LOST IN THE woods, near where she had found the body over three months ago. The sickly-sweet smell of decay filled her nostrils, cloying in its intensity. She gagged, holding her hand over her mouth and nose in a desperate attempt not to repeat the sudden evacuation of the day's food that had happened the last time. Her heart pounded in her chest as she looked frantically for an escape route. Everywhere she turned she was surrounded by darkness. The shapes of the trees were like long clawed fingers reaching for her. Their branches plucked at her clothing and caught her hair, pulling it painfully. She attempted to shove the encroaching foliage out of her way but it was as though the trees were sentient, an angry mob crowding around her. She flinched away from the grasping branches of one particularly aggressive larch, but not before it scraped roughly along her forehead just above her right eyebrow. She felt hot blood drip onto her cheek just beneath her eye and felt her panicked gasping ratcheting up into a whine. She tried to scream then, and all color left her upon realizing that she couldn't. Not a sound. Not even a whimper.

Suddenly, whilst fighting the trees, she heard growls and snarls in the blackness beyond. She went completely still, thinking that maybe, just maybe, whatever was out there would think she was already dead and leave her alone. But the noises only redoubled, growing louder and more insistent. Then the eyes began to appear, one after another from among the branches, glowing gold and green and blood red in the moonlight that only they could reflect. She heard the crackle and pop of leaves and twigs cracking underfoot as whatever creatures they were approached, on the prowl and hungry. She smelled the musk of wet fur and the stink of carnivore breath, but though she tried to pull away she knew that it was hopeless. There was nowhere to go. She was utterly surrounded and about to be ripped to shreds and eaten...villainous, animalian faces began to distinguish themselves in the darkness....

A tall shadow separated itself from the inky black of the night and wrapped lanky arms around her, holding her close. A large hand splayed across the back of her head, pressing her against a smooth chest. Heat enveloped her, driving the ice from her blood. She heard his heartbeat, a steady thrum-thrum-thrum, and as she listened she felt her fear melting away, as though drawn into the figure which embraced her. Colorless, glittering eyes in a mysterious face stared down the snarling forms surrounding them until, one by one, the slavering shadows withdrew, slinking and slithering and skulking into the night. The trees themselves seemed to pull away as well, the little clearing in which they stood expanding until it was once again merely an unassuming spot in a normal forest. The stench of death disappeared. A few valiant rays of sunlight broke through the fog and mist, yet it wasn't enough to show her the features of her rescuer.

She tilted her head, pulling her cheek away from the warm, satiny chest it had been resting against, and attempted to look upon the face of her savior, but though he angled his head to meet her gaze his features remained a mystery. All she could make out was a curtain of hair, twinkling eyes, and the vague outline of a fine nose. He stroked one large hand down her hair, then cupped her face with both. He delved long fingers among the strands, lightly massaging her scalp as he combed his hands through her long brown hair. A look of confusion covered her face, causing her brow to furrow as she felt tingling warmth on her skull. He drew a thumb along the cut on her forehead, and that too began to tingle.

"Who are you?" She asked in a whisper, but he pressed a finger to her lips and shook his head.

"I can't tell you," he said, his voice a rumble in the night. "Not yet. But you will know me when we finally meet. Your very soul has recognized me tonight. A change has begun. Be ready."

***

POPPY SAT UP SUDDENLY, pulling a deep breath of chilly night air into her lungs. She clutched the blankets to her throat as she tried to shake the aftereffects of her nightmare (dream?) and calm her speeding heart. She scrubbed her free hand down her face and glanced at her side table, groaning quietly when the glass of water she was already reaching for wasn't there. She threw back the covers and swung her feet over the side of her bed, stretching a bit until her spine gave a satisfying crack, then placing her feet (in their fluffy pink socks with frolicking grey kittens scattered on them) on the polished wood floor. She figured she would head down to the kitchen and root through the cupboards until she found some hot chocolate or chamomile tea or something to help her get back to sleep.

Hopefully the stairs didn't creak.

CHAPTER NINE

Damn and blast! Somehow the girl had escaped the nightmare which was meant to kill her. Yes, the woman who currently studied her own reflection in her bedroom mirror had learned long ago that fear itself could kill. Terror could destroy a mind. It had easily every potential to be as deadly as poison, especially to the very old, the very young, and the infirm. She had lost track of how many she had murdered during her extremely long life-but then, when that life was extended specifically by how many other lives she sacrificed, did numbers really matter? She smirked at her reflection. Well, no matter. Soon enough the girl would be destroyed, and she herself would be granted the years which would have remained to the teenager.

The woman shrunk into the shadows as she heard footsteps in the hallway. Heavy, clomping steps which came from thick-soled work boots. She hissed on instinct, the fine hairs on her arms thickening and becoming soft, thick fur, her fingernails lengthening into claws. She gave a delicious shiver, her eyelids drifting shut as the ecstasy of her Change nearly overwhelmed her. The lovely feelings she got from Shifting remained with her even after so many centuries.

With a low purr she rubbed her not-fully-transformed hands along her arms, smoothing the fur there while simultaneously wiping it away with a glamour spell. She had places to go, people to hunt...meat to slaughter. It wouldn't do to be seen in her true form until she was ready. No-that wouldn't do at all.

***

POPPY SCRUBBED A HAND down her face, opening the cupboard and staring blearily at the boxes of tea, bags of coffee, and packets of hot cocoa. So many choices-who would've thought three such masculine men would be connoisseurs of tea, coffee, and cocoa? She giggled just the smallest bit as she chose a packet of mint hot cocoa and closed that cupboard, searching then for a mug. Finally locating one (in the last place she looked, obviously) she dumped the cocoa powder in and slowly added water, hoping the microwave didn't have that infernal, eternal beep timer that the one at her parents' had. She tapped her foot as she waited, arms crossed and gazing unseeingly at the floor. She was running on automatic pilot as she stirred the spoon around, although she was careful not to clink it against the mug too often.

She was lifting it to her lips to blow on when there came a shuffling from the dark living room and she froze, eyes wide as she searched the shadows.

"It's just me." That Texas drawl rolled over Poppy like a slowly cresting wave, and she visibly loosened all over. It was like a calming spell had been cast over her, and she gave her head a little shake as though to clear it.

"What are you doing out here?" Poppy asked in between blows, her lips pursed and pink with nighttime lip gloss. Legend dragged his gaze away from them with difficulty, his own mouth quirking in a sexy smirk. "I thought everyone was asleep."

"Yeah, I don't sleep much," he replied, his head tilted downward as he approached the kitchen. In the dim light of the kitchen lamp he looked unaccountably young and shy, and Poppy couldn't quite help her smile. "That doesn't explain what you're doing up, kiddo."

Poppy shrugged, sipping her cocoa and slowly lowering it to the counter as she considered her answer. "Had a bad dream. Well-mostly bad. A little good but...mostly just bad..."

She quieted as she realized Legend was studying her strangely, his green-gold eyes gazing at her hair. She furrowed her brow in confusion.

"Dude...what's up with your hair?"

"What do you mean?"

"It's...it's red. Like...like fox fur or something. Coppery. Just in waves, though, like you got the red mingled together with the brown. And-" He reached out to crinkle and rub a few strands between his fingers. "Really soft, like...have you ever felt chinchilla fur? Yeah, like that."

"What?" Poppy whipped around to look at her reflection in the microwave door, touching her hair. Legend was right-it was like red and brown got together and had a passel of really wavy kids, and exceedingly soft. Completely different than her normal, plain-Jane dark brown hair. A throat cleared behind her, and Legend handed her a small hand-mirror. She studied her reflection closer, noting the shimmering golden highlights streaking through the red, glittering in the soft light of the kitchen. Her fingers encountered not a single tangle as she ran them through the long strands. Her hair had never been so soft or thick in her entire life.

"By your reaction I'm gonna guess that you didn't do that on purpose," Legend murmured, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall. Poppy set the mirror down and leaned against the counter, covering her face with both hands. Her "no" was muffled in her palms, and Legend grinned. He shoved off the wall and patted her shoulder. "Looks good, kid. At least your nightmares didn't turn your hair white, y'know? Means I can't call you an old lady, though, but it's a sacrifice I'll make if you'll let me play with your hair..." He wiggled his eyebrows at her when she looked at him in shock, and she burst out laughing, slapping a hand over her mouth and snorting when she tried to keep it quiet. She nodded, her hand falling to her collarbone.

"I mean-sure, why not?"

"Awesome," Legend said, rubbing his hands together in anticipation, eyeing her hair like he couldn't wait to get his hands on it. "I can do a gorgeous French braid." Poppy lifted an eyebrow at him and he immediately sobered, jamming his hands into his pockets and shrugging. "What? I had sisters. You know. Before."

Poppy gazed at him, her face softening into a gentle smile, and she drew him into a hug. It was so strange- her thoughts were more ordered than they had been just a few hours ago, her emotions more stable. She felt oddly-older-but that was abjectly impossible. It was surely only the calming influence of the Shifters, knowing after more than three months that she was truly safe. She shook her head again mildly, withdrawing from Legend. He looked embarrassed yet comforted, too, and she took up her cocoa once again, drinking deep now that it was room temperature. Setting the mug in the sink, she stifled a yawn behind her hand.

"I guess I'm gonna try sleep again," she said softly. "Thanks for the conversation, Legend. It was...nice."

He bobbed his head at her and popped off a jaunty salute as she ascended the stairs, his eyes wandering to glance at her booty as her sleep shorts rode up her thighs a little more with each step. Yep, he thought. Kid was definitely gonna be a looker when she grew up.

And he didn't even swing that way.

CHAPTER TEN

"So. A little history is in order. You don't know anything about Shifter myths, or our stories, and those are extremely important. Almost as important as knowing how to tell a Shifter from a regular Joe." Isaiah sat across from Poppy and scooted a cup of steaming, fragrant coffee under her nose. She inhaled deeply, appreciating the fruity, nutty odor of the organic Ethiopian brew. She wrapped her fingers around the ceramic cup with its rendering of a llama draped in blankets and tassels, glad for the warmth against her palms.

Isaiah took a careful sip and sighed, glancing out the window at a grey sky threatening snow. "Owen's really more informed. He's the unofficial historian of our Pack, you know. We all know the stories, but he knows the reasons behind our origin myths- the whytos and the wherefores, so to speak."

"Tell me what you can, Isaiah," Poppy said quietly, touching his hand fleetingly before returning to her coffee. He sighed again but met her eyes and nodded once. He took another long sip from his smaller, plain black mug, and opened his mouth to begin.

"Hold there," Owen's gruff voice rose from near the stairs. "I will tell you in good time, lass. But that time is not now. Not yet. We've a bigger issue to take care of first."

Isaiah stood slowly, his nostrils flaring as he scented the air. He met Owen's stern gaze, and the elder man nodded his head once, firmly.

"Damn," Isaiah muttered. Poppy looked from one man to the other in confusion.

"What is going on?"

"Your aunt is gone," Owen replied. He was shrugging into his thick khaki jacket, doing up the buttons with blunt yet nimble fingers. "Legend is already out in the streets, searching for her. The scent-Poppy, love, the scent is pure Shifter. Ancient and pure."

Poppy shook her head, not understanding what he meant. She asked and Owen sighed deeply, resting his hand against the doorjamb. He seemed to lose himself in thought for a moment, but just as Poppy was about to question him again he looked at her.

"Her scent is old, not as in been gone a long time, but as in...as in she's been alive for a long time. She smells of purity. No trace of human left."

"That isn't possible," Poppy protested as Isaiah helped her into her jacket. "Jasmine hasn't even completed one full Change, or whatever you call it. If anything she's more human-"

"Poppy," Isaiah interrupted, "what he means is that she's been a Shifter for probably longer than any of us have been alive. Magic exists. You're coming to know this. It exists all around you, in infinite forms. A strong glamour could have kept the truth hidden even from us. And if she really is one of the first- well, she'd certainly have the knowledge and the power."

"I believe your aunt-or whoever she really is-comes from the original bloodlines. She may even have been one of the very first Shifters. Being able to cast a glamour spell strong enough to conceal her true identity from someone like Legend- well, let's just say she's unusually strong." Owen grasped Poppy's shoulders and turned her so that he could look directly into her eyes. She could see the animal within his whiskey-colored irises, his pupils throbbing in time with his heartbeat. "Until we find her and put her down, you are in great danger. We cannot leave you alone, but if you come with us you must do exactly as you're told. Do you understand?"

Poppy nearly glared at him. She nearly asked if he thought she was a child. Nearly. But she swallowed the retort back and nodded because she really was just a child when compared to them, and Owen released her. He tossed Isaiah the keys.

"You drive, lad," he said. "My wolf is too near to risk it. I might grow paws mid-travel, and that'd be good for none of us."

***

POPPY WATCHED THE TREES flicker past the window, although her thoughts were far away. She sighed deeply, hugging her arms even tighter around herself, and she felt Isaiah's gaze upon her momentarily as he glanced at her reflection in the rearview mirror, although she didn't look to see for herself. She heard his voice mumble something soothing but her ears couldn't process it. Her mind was awhirl with the origin stories she'd been told and had read, about the very beginnings of the Shifter race. Magic, mythology. Fairytales. Well, maybe there was always truth to those old stories, the stories which had been passed through the centuries which everyone held in their hearts and kept in the back of their minds, yet so stubbornly refused to believe.

From the corner of her eye she saw a flash of black among the trees and smirked. Of course Legend would be a black wol-wait. It was definitely too small to be a wolf. The creature darted and bounded among the trees and shrubs almost like a midsized cat. A flash of grinning white teeth, sharp as needles. A flick of black floof tipped in white. Poppy caught her breath as a pointy face turned toward her and grinned as only foxes could, winking one of its brilliant green eyes at her before disappearing among the bracken. She turned a wide-eyed gaze toward the two men in the front seat.

"Legend's a freaking fox?" she insisted, digging her fingers into Owen's headrest. The older man barked laughter and shifted in his seat to fix her with his mirthful face.

"And can you think of a more appropriate creature? We don't get to choose, but our animal is often excellent at representing our true nature. Usually more-so than our human side."

"Just wait’ll you get a load of mine," Isaiah muttered, turning the vehicle in at a small 'overlook' parking area. He shifted into park and turned the engine off before shoving the key into his pocket. "First time I shifted I didn't know whether to laugh or chew my own foot off. Thankfully Owen snuggled me to death before I could seriously consider the second option." He tilted his chin toward the tree line and placed a gentle hand at the small of Poppy's back, urging her forward. "I think this is where Legend caught up with her trail. C'mon."

The trio approached the tree line with caution, stepping gingerly to avoid too much crunching of gravel and then in the effort to sidestep dry branches. Their eyes continually scanned the brush, but the shadows were deep here and the barest hint of movement, even a squirrel scooting about in the canopy or a rabbit hopping closer to tender shoots of grass, caused Poppy to startle. Isaiah's hand left her back only long enough to allow him to drape an arm across her shoulders, his arm and part of his chest giving her a sense of security. At least nothing could sneak up on her from behind.

There was a soft whoosh and a rush of air, and before Poppy could even turn toward the sound Legend stepped out from behind a fir tree, brushing his hands across his jacket as though to rid the fabric of invisible dust. He cocked a grin toward her, winked, and gave his head a little shake.

"Man, I can never really get used to that feeling. Tingles, y'know?" His deep voice teased her, and she rolled her eyes and smiled. Legend's eyes twinkled at her for a split second, then he turned his attention to Owen, tipping his head slightly and brushing his fingers to his forehead. Poppy puzzled at the gesture but the realization quickly dawned that it was likely a show of respect for his Alpha.

"Any sign of the witch?" Owen asked. Legend's lips pressed together tightly.

"Not really. I can track her scent- a little- but she didn't leave a trail beyond that. It's like she's floating or something. No footprints, no hair left on a branch- nothing."

"I'll come with you," Isaiah offered. "Two sets of eyes are better than one."

"No," Owen said sharply, bracing a hand across Isaiah's chest as the younger man began to step away. "You will stay with Poppy. Protect her. I can accompany Legend. If this Jasmine is who I fear she is-I will be better prepared to fight her magic."

"I still don't understand how my aunt could be involved in all this," Poppy whispered, her eyes searching Owen's face. "I mean-she's my aunt, for crying out loud. I've known her forever. Whatever," she sighed with a firm shake of her head. "Find her. But Owen- be safe. And get back to us soon. There's a story and I think I need to hear it."

Owen stared into her eyes, then with one brisk nod he turned away, rushing toward the forest first as a man alongside Legend, but then as the younger became the fox he, too, changed. It was like watching something moving in fog and water. In less time than it took to take a breath, Owen became a huge wolf, brindled black and copper and brown with a tiny white patch on his rear left leg. He paused a moment, glanced back at Poppy and Isaiah, then disappeared with a huff and a slight nod of his head. Isaiah merely shook his own as he led Poppy back toward the SUV.

"Ah, well," he chuckled, reaching inside and pulling out a couple protein bars, tossing one to Poppy and unwrapping his own. "Maybe one day you'll get to see my Shift."

"Can't you just tell me what you are?"

"Nope. You gotta see it to believe it."

"Hmph." She chewed thoughtfully, the food puffing her cheek out like a chipmunk's. She studied the handsome man with his messy hair and slight five o'clock shadow, noticing how he held himself in a manner similar to a submissive animal-not frightened or abused, but most definitely not dominant leadership material. He was soft-spoken, genteel, and sweet-natured, with the bedside manner of a kind-hearted, well-trained healer. Poppy tilted her head and swallowed, taking a long swig from the sports bottle Isaiah offered her before she spoke again.

"Did you actually train? I mean, like, go to med school and get your doctorate or whatever?"

Isaiah grinned and dipped his head shyly, glancing at her through his long, dark lashes, the deep blue twinkling at her. He self-consciously brushed the hair above his ear back with long, supple fingers, then touched an index finger to his shapely lips.

"I did not. I hated traditional schooling, of any kind. Making you learn all kinds of pointless things. I mostly taught myself, through necessity at first and then, after I fell in with Owen, I was sent to various people he trusted. Healers, shamans, and the like. I enjoyed it, mostly. There was a stint in Outer Mongolia that I wasn't too fond of- hated, actually- but you're too young to hear about that yet." She noticed that he flexed his hand against his thigh as he said this, and though she was extremely curious about it she left it alone.

"There's just so much going on that I don't know, that I don't understand. And nobody wants to enlighten me because I'm too young, or inexperienced, or innocent, or...or whatever. I'm sick of being treated like a child."

"It's all temporary," he said softly, encouragingly, as he reached forward to push her unruly hair out of her face so he could look at her. "When did this happen, anyway? Didn't you have brown hair before?"

Poppy scoffed, smirking a little as she reached up and shoved her hair behind her ear. Her fingers brushed Isaiah's on their way through the thick strands, and they both jumped.

"Did you just...?"

"Did you feel...?"

They both shook their heads, as though in disbelief, and Isaiah motioned for Poppy to continue. She sighed, took another long pull from the water bottle, wiped the back of her hand across her mouth, and leaned against the vehicle.

"It must've happened last night. I had this dream- it felt so real- and when I woke up and went into the kitchen Legend noticed that my hair was this new and improved coppery-red color. I have no idea what happened, but I dunno. It's weird. I almost feel...older. It's not anything I can put my finger on, but I feel less- you know- teenagerish. Is that a word? It is now," she said with a shrug, shoving away from the SUV with a spasm of her hip. She scrubbed her hands together and blew on them, trying to regain feeling in her frozen digits. Isaiah took her hands in his and began rubbing. His palms were warm and dry, and the crackle of electricity between them dulled to a subtle tickling sensation, causing the tiny hairs along the backs of hands and along arms to raise and flesh to quiver. Poppy drew a quick intake of breath as her pulse kicked up a few notches, and Isaiah's own breathing shook as he sighed. He exhaled a puff of foggy air, and Poppy inexplicably giggled, covering her mouth with one hand. Isaiah smirked at her and turned at the sound of crunching undergrowth.

A black fox leapt over a fallen branch onto an area of packed-down snow in a tire tread, daintily shaking each paw free of the moisture caused by Shifter heat melting the snow underfoot. Directly behind him lumbered a large and quite pretty British badger, his white stripes pristine and his black extremely glossy. He paused at the edge of the brush line, gazing at them with kind, liquid black eyes. Legend tilted his pointy face back to look at the badger and yipped, and quick as a flash they both merged into their human forms, giving the now familiar shiver as they settled back into their male forms.

The badger became a man with dark skin, shoulder-length black curls that glistened in the dull sunlight, chocolate brown eyes which were heavily lidded and seemed to smile with a life of their own, and an aquiline nose. He smiled in Poppy's direction, evincing a deep dimple in his cheek, and slowly stepped toward her. Legend and Isaiah both took up defensive positions in front of her, and although she rolled her eyes with exasperation she was, nevertheless, grateful. The last thing she needed right now was a come-on from a stranger, let alone a strange Shifter. He lifted his nose in the air, scenting her, his eyes never leaving her though they roved down her body before settling again on her face.

"You smell divine, kitten," he said, his accent British with a hint of exotic India in the vowels. She swallowed hard and grasped Legend's jacket sleeve, sidling slightly more behind him and Isaiah, looking around them both at this unknown quantity. "Time-it does strange things, does it not? You are not the first of your bloodline that I have smelled."

Poppy scrunched her nose and furrowed her brow. "What are you talking about? Did you know my parents? My...my aunt?"

The man threw back his head and laughed. He wore only a pair of torn blue jeans and a suede vest, and when he laughed his bicep muscles quivered and jumped. His Adam's apple bobbed, and his teeth were unnaturally white and sharp.

"Your 'aunt'...your 'aunt'..."

He trailed off and Poppy widened her eyes at him significantly, lifting one eyebrow, waiting for him to continue. He scratched at his jaw and clasped his hand behind his neck.

"Yasmeena-hmm, Jasmine, that is-she is not who you think she is. I have been searching for her for a very long time, as did my father and his father before him. We wish to bring her to justice for her many crimes against our kind. Her kind, too, for she was one of the first. But it is a story your Alpha should tell you. It isn't my place..."

"Too right it isn't," Legend interrupted, his lips pursed tightly as he gently removed Poppy's fingers from his jacket and handed her off to Isaiah with a gentle pat on the arm and a kiss on her cheek. He met her eyes and nodded, and she visibly relaxed with a soft sigh. Isaiah led her to the SUV and sat her down in the front seat, keeping his attention equally divided between her and the newcomer. Legend crossed his arms over the broad expanse of his chest and stared down the badger. "I want you to have a sit down with Owen when he gets back. I think y'all have a lot to talk about."

"Indeed, I'm certain we do." The man crossed his ankles and sank to the ground, heedless of the snow melting beneath him and soaking into his jeans. "I will gladly wait any length of time necessary for your Alpha to return. My name is Asveen Natrajeshwar, by the way."

Legend opened his mouth to reply but was interrupted by Poppy slamming the car door as she stomped toward them, intense curiosity blazing in her eyes. She stopped mere inches from Asveen and stiffly shook Isaiah's hand from her arm when he reached for her.

"What did you mean when you said, 'time does strange things'?"

Asveen tilted his head. "I think you know."

"Pretend I don't. You acted like you knew me. What's that about?"

"You were quite young not so long ago, yes? Perhaps fourteen? Fifteen?"

"Fifteen, nearly sixteen. Yeah-so what?"

"You are a young thing no longer, am I correct? At least, not quite so young. I sense now-" Asveen paused and sniffed the air between them quite dramatically, his eyes drifting closed as his mouth opened slightly, his pink tongue touching his front teeth. Suddenly his hand snapped out, grabbing her ankle. The three of them tensed with a slew of gasps and a curse from Legend, but Asveen merely lifted a finger to his lips to shush them. His eyes fluttered open and his dark gaze drifted up her body to land upon her face. Poppy felt herself blushing. "Poppy Marie Takala. You entered the astral plane unawares last night, didn't you. You met someone there-another Shifter, one from a dangerous pack. He was not supposed to contact you, and yet he did. He broke the pact his Alpha enforced upon all of his underlings and put not only himself in danger but you, as well. In coming into such contact with you he must have activated a latent and dormant magical gene within you. The Takala family has long been not only a Shifter family, but the heirs to a magical inheritance. Yasmeena has been alive in one form or another for hundreds of years, always a member of the Takala bloodline. Before that, she was Hestia Praxxos, one of two apprentices of a man known as-well, I'll let Owen tell you that tale. It is, after all, not only our history but the mythos on which our magic is based. Suffice it to say that Yasmeena-forgive me, Jasmine-is older than you could ever guess. And far, far more dangerous.

"But I digress. The family magic, once activated, brought you to your perfect age. The height of your physicality. You are most likely physically closer now to nineteen or even twenty, though you likely will fill out a bit more in the coming days. Able to withstand a Shift, to settle upon a mate, learn to defend yourself, and so on. It happens to all hereditary Shifters. Don't worry, kitten, it won't shorten your life at all. You haven't aged in the mortal way, requiring you to suffer tiny changes year by year as your body yearns toward perfection, but the magical one, wherein every one of the pangs of youth and pathetic puberty are completed in one perfect night. I'm sure your parents can explain further, but first we must find and destroy Yasmeena."

Poppy tilted her head to one side and thought for a moment, then replied with an abrupt nod. Isaiah and Legend side-eyed her, waiting silently for her to turn her attention to them.

"Fine," she agreed, her voice taut and strained. "The sooner I am finally told everything the better. I'm tired of everyone treating me like some delicate thing that'll break as soon as I'm told the whole truth. Let's go." And just like that she turned on her heel and returned to the car.

"I'll just go find Owen and bring him back so we can go home," Legend drawled in his deep Texas accent, dropping to all fours and flowing smoothly into his vulpine shape before loping away, disappearing among the forest shadows. Isaiah turned and slowly followed Poppy, his visage thoughtful as he stroked his chin. He had vague memories of being sat down by Owen and told the histories, and of being in disbelief until he read it for himself. Owen had taken him down into the "family crypt" at that point and led him to the statue of Actaeon, the original Shifter, carved of obsidian and accented with fire opal, volcanic rock, malachite azurite, and wearing a crown and armor crafted from orange calcite and silver rutile. The entire thing was taller than Isaiah (though not by much) at 6'2" and glimmered with a lifelike aura in the flickering light of the torch held aloft by Owen. The Alpha himself looked as proud as if he himself had carved the figure, his entire body straightening, his head held high.

Isaiah stared into the distance as the memory played across his mind's eye, and Asveen paused slightly behind his shoulder, hesitating to draw the other man's attention away from whatever it was that had distracted him.

"Isaiah?" Poppy's voice was bell-like as it floated across to them. She had turned, her hand on the door handle, and her eyebrows were knit into a deep line as she gazed back at the two men. Her entire focus was on the Pack's healer, and her hand dropped to her side as she began to return. "Isaiah, is something wrong?"

With a deep breath and a sigh, the man seemed to awaken, his focus going first to the young woman in front of him before he startled, glancing back at Asveen. The darker man clapped a hand to Isaiah's shoulder, lifting an eyebrow in askance. Isaiah gave a short, reassuring nod, first to Asveen and then to Poppy, following it up with a soft smile. Poppy returned the smile, her lips curving upward slightly despite the fact that she was still annoyed at having been left out of so many secrets involving not only herself but her entire family. She popped the door handle and slid inside, buckling the seatbelt across herself and holding it down away from her neck with her right arm. She disliked the feeling of the sharp-edged, plastic-like material cutting into the tender flesh of her neck and throat. Isaiah eyed her setup with a displeased eye as he, too, buckled in, his fingers grazing her hip as he clipped the belt into place. Asveen slid in beside him as Legend and Owen hopped in their respective seats up front.

The tires skidded slightly on the gravel as Owen put the vehicle in gear, angling back toward the road and home

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Owen had promised, during the return drive, to tell everyone the tale of their beginnings, the myths behind Jasmine/Yasmeena, everything-but only after things had settled down. So it was that Poppy had taken a long, nearly scalding shower (because simply having it hot wasn't enough, as the water had felt barely lukewarm against her skin), changed into a soft pair of heather grey sweatpants and a cropped white camisole with hot pink straps, and taken a bottle of lime green nail polish downstairs to apply on her bare toes after starting a cup of Lady Grey tea steeping on the counter. She settled her bum onto the couch, one foot propped against the edge of the kitchen chair she had hefted (quite easily) into the living room. She shook the bottle and began to unscrew the lid.

"Hey, hold up! Nonononono, Owen'll kick your ass if you accidentally get that crap on the upholstery." Legend pulled the chair away and plopped down, taking hold of Poppy's bare ankle and tugging her foot onto his lap. He snapped his fingers at her and waggled his hand in a "gimme" gesture. With a moue of something like displeased acceptance, she handed him the polish. He grimaced at the color, glanced at her face, and shrugged as he twisted off the cap, expertly stroking the brush against the lip of the little vial and leaning over her foot. "It ain't my poison of choice, but whatever."

Legend had a very precise touch with the brush, making long and incredibly even strokes with the concentration of a master artist, not getting even a hint of color on her skin. Within mere minutes both feet were finished, the lid was back on, and Legend was holding one delicate foot in both hands as he blew gently on her toenails. His hands were hot and before long Poppy felt her eyes trying to drift closed to the blissful attention as he tenderly massaged each foot, paying special care to the instep.

"Your tea, milady?"

Poppy's eyes flew open as she startled, flailing her arm and nearly smacking Isaiah's nose as he leaned close to her ear. He leapt back, cradling her teacup and somehow not spilling a single drop.

"Oh! God-I'm sorry, Isaiah, I guess I drifted off. I've just been craving heat lately and Legend's hands are so warm..."

"Hey, don't worry about it." He knelt beside her, setting the cup on the end table and reaching for Poppy's hand. "Are you feeling okay?"

Poppy gave her head a shake. "I don't know for sure," she replied softly. "I had to turn the heat in the shower to maximum because my usual felt, well, tepid. And just now Legend's hands felt so nice and warm. I felt like my feet were freezing."

Legend smirked over her head at Isaiah at her comment, and the blue-eyed shifter rolled his eyes before returning his full attention to Poppy.

"How about now? How do you feel now?"

"My head feels cool but the rest of me feels like I'm about to walk into a fire," she said. She turned frightened eyes on the healer. "Is that bad?"

Isaiah's lips pressed together into a thin line. He steadied his gaze on their hands where his thumb slid back and forth across her knuckles in a soothing rhythm as he considered how to answer her.

"Nnno, no it isn't necessarily bad, love," he responded. He met her eyes with a wan smile. "It means that your first shift is getting nearer. Nothing to be too concerned over-after all, we're here to ensure your safety and an easier time of it. The first is always the roughest." Poppy made a soft whimper of dismay, and Isaiah drew upward, gently tugging her head down and laying a tender kiss on her temple. He smoothed her hair, suddenly damp with sweat as her temperature again ramped up a few notches.

"Will it hurt?" She asked, her voice wavering as tears threatened. Isaiah and Legend both offered small smiles as they petted her head, stroked their fingers softly down her arm. Legend slowly shook his head as Isaiah consoled her.

"No," he murmured. "You'll be very hungry over the next few days as your metabolism adjusts. You'll likely alternate between extremely tired and almost-for lack of a better term-high. The rollercoaster that is your temperature will even out within the next twenty-four hours. It's probably best if you were to head upstairs and sleep for a bit."

"But Owen-"

"I will inform the Alpha that in my medical opinion you needed bedrest and relaxation for a few hours. The Jasmine situation will keep-I don't really think she's going to go far. She wants you, and I doubt she'll leave until she achieves her aim. Go on." Poppy stood and guzzled her now-cold tea, then began walking past the two men, but didn't escape without a soft swat from Legend.

"We got a weird little cat around here somewhere," he called after her as she trudged sleepily up the stairs. "He's real warm and cuddly. If I find him I'll set him in bed with ya."

She nodded and sent them both a tiny smile before turning the corner to her room, closing the door to within a few inches.

Isaiah swiveled disbelievingly to Legend, searching those all-too-innocent green eyes.

"Why mention the cat? The damn cat hasn't wanted to make an appearance for weeks now."

Legend smirked, crossing his arms over his chest as he continued to gaze up the stairs after Poppy.

"Well, then, this would be an opportune time for the damn cat to return, wouldn't it? If the universe is kind, she'll send him back."

Isaiah growled and stalked away, leaving Legend chuckling in his wake.

***

POPPY CHANGED RATHER sluggishly into a pair of grey terry shorts and a soft pink shirt that read "breaker-breaker 1-9" on the front in ombre shades of grey. The shirt was obviously well-loved, the fabric thin and the ink faded. She set her phone and its accompanying purple headphones on her bed and vanished into the bathroom to complete her before-bed ablutions. She was returning to her room when Owen appeared at the end of the hall, having just exited his own room. He was carding the fingers of one hand through his hair, his gaze a thousand miles away. But when he saw her he motioned her away with a distracted smile, and she smiled back, gratefully pulling the door partially closed behind herself. The soft yellow light of the single lamp welcomed her, and she peeled the covers back as she scooted beneath them.

She was sleepily rubbing the side of her fevered face against the soft pillow when there came a knock on her door. She pried her heavy eyelids open and gazed blearily at Legend, who swaggered in and deposited a barely-there ball of heartily purring something beside her. She blinked in his general direction and smiled, and the man offered her a smirk as he tousled her hair before leaving the room.

"Hey, kitty," she said, her voice sounding drunk even to her own ears. She waggled an arm out from under the covers and gently curled it around the cat, hauling it closer. The creatures rumbled contentedly as it settled in and Poppy's eyes fell shut.

The cat smiled when the teenager-turned-twenty-something began snoring.

***

"ARE YOU ALRIGHT?" CATO asked, his hands resting firmly on her shoulders. Poppy backed up a step, rubbing her arm and staring sheepishly at his shoes. She liked that style, like hiking boots but with a decidedly sneaker twist. He leaned forward a bit, letting his hands fall back to his sides, as though he needed to be close to her to ensure himself that she was indeed alright.

"I'm fine," Poppy replied. She met his eyes, narrowing her gaze. "So you're here again-does this mean I'm going to age again?"

"Again?...oh. Ohh. I forgot about that part. Poppy, it wasn't because I came here, to see you in your dreams. I don't doubt that was the catalyst, but it wasn't the reason. See, you're a pureblood, like me. It's why I can communicate with you like this, it's why you attained your True Age so fast. I bet you started showing symptoms of your first Change, too, didn't you?"

Poppy scratched her temple and shoved her hair away from her face. "Yeah. Fever, then chills. I'm stupid hungry, ha. I could probably eat a whole buffalo right now."

Cato chuckled, his shoulders shaking. "Just wait. After you Shift for the first time you probably will."

The world around them began to glow brighter and Cato stepped close to Poppy, pulling her into his warmth. He propped his chin on her head, even though he had to bend down some distance to achieve it, and closed his eyes as he inhaled her scent. Similarly, Poppy was breathing in the woodsy musk that was Cato as she threaded her hands between his shirt and the leather jacket he wore.

"Dawn is coming. I'll have to go again."

"I know."

"Listen. About Jasmine. I don't know much, but she's hiding. I heard my Alpha talking about it. All the North American packs have been alerted to be on the watch for her. She won't get far. And-for what it's worth-I don't think she killed your folks. Just something my Alpha mentioned, but-tell Owen, okay? It's good that they all know that you talk to me, that I visit you." He kissed the top of her head and pulled away, lifting one of her hands to his mouth for a kiss. "Stay safe. I'll visit you again as soon as I can."

Poppy's eyes flew open, her fingers buried in warm, vibrating fur, a peaceful smile on her pink lips.

"I dreamed about him again, kitty." She said quietly. The cat lifted its head and gazed at her, huge liquid amber eyes studying her face. It stood with that smooth, surreally lithe motion that cats possess, turning in on itself and approaching her slowly, those eyes never leaving hers. She continued gently stroking the extremely silky fur, marveling at the gorgeous orange-yellow coat with its pattern of stripes and spots, dissolving into a fit of giggles as the creature's long whiskers tickled her nose. "Well, hi," she whispered, rubbing behind the cat's ears. She heard a familiar rippling, whooshing sound, the weight across her body exponentially increased, and suddenly she was holding Isaiah's face between her palms, staring into his wide eyes as the amber darkened and bled away to be replaced by the usual twinkling cerulean. His pupils dilated exactly as a cat's would as he leaned forward and flicked his still slightly-raspy tongue over the tip of her nose, the final shivers from his Shift leaving him.

"Tag," he whispered thickly, "you're it."

As he fled the room Poppy considered how glad she was that their clothes made the shift with them.

And yet, also, vaguely disappointed.

CHAPTER TWELVE

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"YOU'RE A CAT?" SHE shrieked, thundering down the stairs as she shrugged into her robe. It was soft, fluffy, pale pink-and had been living at the back of the closet. She hadn't noticed it until now.

Reaching the bottom step she skidded to a halt, hand gripping the smooth round finial as her eyes flicked across the broad expanse of the room. Her gaze fell on Legend, who stood with one hip perched against the back of the couch, a massive coffee mug to hand, his smoldering eyes fixed on her.

"Good mornin', Sunshine." He drawled, pursing his lips to blow the steam from his beverage. "Sleep well?"

"You knew Isaiah was a cat and you stuck him in my bed." She gritted at him accusingly. He grinned in response, raising his mug in salute.

"Sure did, darlin'. Only he ain't so much a cat really. More like-"

"An ocelot." Isaiah stood awkwardly framed in the doorway, his broad, long-fingered hand threading through his hair. "I'm an ocelot. If you throw a ball of yarn, my pupils will dilate and I will have an extremely strong urge to chase it." His blue eyes met Poppy's chestnut ones, and he offered her a sheepish grin. "Please don't throw a ball of yarn."

Legend smirked. "Go ahead. It's fun."

Poppy gaped back and forth between them before shaking her head and tossing her hands in the air helplessly. "I give up," she muttered. "Everything in this house is nuts. Including me. So what am I going to become, huh? Is there any way to tell?"

Isaiah released the breath he hadn't known he was holding. "Not really. Are you craving any particular foods? Feeling any overwhelming urges to bury a bone in the yard or take flight from the roof?"

"Ha ha, very funny." Poppy stirred some coconut sugar into her coffee thoughtfully, her eyes unfocused as she gazed out the window. "Other than being tired and wanting a bowl of cantaloupe, no."

"Sounds fairly normal to me," Legend said. "But I ain't a doctor. Hey, Owen! Good mornin'!"

Owen nodded succinctly to each of them in turn and waved them in to the living room where Asveen had joined them sometime earlier. The darker-skinned man stood at military ease, hands clasped behind his back, feet apart, a serene smile on his face. His black curls were tied back loosely with a bright red scrunchie that seemed out of place with his rather no-nonsense character. Poppy offered him a quick, uncertain smile as she perched on the edge of the couch, while Legend barely suppressed a suspicious glare. Isaiah seemed indifferent to the foreign shifter's appearance in their home, although he assessed him carefully in his own way. Only Owen seemed truly at ease in the man's presence.

"Hello again," Asveen said softly, tilting his head respectfully at the room in general. "I am only here for a short time, I promise. Once I have heard the tale your Alpha is to spin for you, and shared what information you all deem pertinent, I will continue on my way. It is, unfortunately, too dangerous for me to remain in one place for too long at this time. Perhaps one day I may return."

Owen nodded subtly at him and motioned the man to sit as he lowered himself into an overstuffed and rather lumpy recliner that looked like it had seen better days. It was several dullshades of green, in a tartan pattern accented with frazzled-but still sparkly-gold threads throughout. It must have been with Owen for a very long time, as the tension visibly melted from him as he sunk deeper into the cushions with a lengthy sigh.

"Now," the older man said, his gruff voice settling into the tone which Legend and Isaiah recognized as his 'storyteller mode' as they joined Poppy on the couch, "this is a rather boring recounting of our origins, Poppy, but you've not yet heard the tale and it is quite a crucial bit of information. Especially as it pertains to your, em, aunt. Please, no interruptions until I've finished. Wouldn't want me to lose track and have to begin again. Ahem.

"Sorcery is a term often used by the uninitiated and ignorant to explain away the practice of black magic, powers utilized to manipulate the universe for the sorcerer's own ends. The alleged exploits of such characters stretch so far back in time that their true origin can never be truly known, though for the purpose of this tale we may trace them to Italy and Greece.

"Please understand, not all sorcerers had malicious intentions. One notable benevolent sorcerer in particular was a Roman poet, Publius Vergilius Maro. You would probably recognize him better by a shortened version of his name, yes? Perhaps you recognize the name Vergil, eh? I see by the quirking of your brow in disbelief that his shortened nomenclature is one you do, in fact, know. He was said to have learned his magic from twelve devils whom he released from a bottle found in his vineyard. He reputedly furthered his knowledge of the arcane by visiting a famous sorcerer who lived in a place known as the Mountain of Sorrows; he later founded a school for sorcerers in Naples.

"One of his students, a man with a dark and tragic past-because don't they all have a dark and tragic history?-became a powerful sorcerer in his own right, if not so well known. Veranius Septimus grew swiftly in his abilities, and eventually withdrew into the ruins of an already ancient village to practice his malign magics, which included nefarious practices like transfixion (all the easier to pick pockets), divination (to locate future victims-even far into the future), and even zoomorphism (the practice of becoming an animal in order to learn more about it-which was accompanied by some interesting side-effects).

"Veranius took on two apprentices at that time-a young woman named Hestia Praxxos, and a man nearing his dotage called simply Actaeon. When asked, the old man merely said that all his family were gone and he was the last. (It was later learned by Hestia that he was, in fact, the very same Actaeon of mythology; the hunter who had been torn apart by his own dogs and was then transformed into a deer, thus becoming the hunted.

"In actuality, he had survived, turning on the pack of dogs and beating them all to death with his hooves, goring them with his antlers. He suffered weeks of severe fevers, hallucinations, and uncontrollable shifts between his human and animal forms. When his symptoms at last subsided, he was left with heightened senses, greater vitality, and longer life-but accompanied by outbursts of fur, antlers, and hooves. And something else.

"Upon his arrival at Veranius' school, Actaeon was nearly four-hundred years old.

"Veranius demanded that Actaeon reveal to himself and Hestia the secrets of becoming an animal, but though Actaeon tried (under duress) he didn't know how. In a fit of rage, Veranius attempted to kill the old man with an antimony dagger dipped in deadly poison, then turned the blade on Hestia. The brittle blade sliced her arm and broke off in her flesh. The intense pain caused the volatile mixture of Actaeon's blood, antimony blade, and the subtle poison to surge through her system, reacting with her magic. She shifted, rather dramatically, into a huge brindled Mastiff-and subsequently ate Veranius.

"Hestia stayed on with Actaeon for many years after their Shifter bodies purged all of the poison. They learned many things unique to their "race" and penned several scrolls and books detailing items and articles which would prove of interest to any others suffering their "ailment".

"After a few decades, Hestia (still young and beautiful) fell in love with a human named Markus. They had four children, three of whom carried the Shifter blood. The fourth was seemingly human, although the gene merely remained dormant. Hestia lived on long after the passing of her husband, hiding her eternally youthful face behind a veil and going into seclusion with Actaeon until his eventual death. She watched and guarded her bloodline, occasionally guiding them back into the Shifter community when they went astray. Eventually her immortality drove her quite mad-it happens sometimes as we age, that our minds and hearts can no longer keep up with our bodies-and she became Yasmeena, then Jasmine, both times attempting to ingratiate herself with sorcerers and Shifters who shared some of her madness."

Owen fell silent, and the room was still as the Shifters within allowed his story to sink in. At long last, Asveen stirred, seeming to shake off the lethargy brought on by Owen's raspy voice and the subtle magic it carried.

"A wondrous tale, my friend," the darker man stated softly. He tipped his head at the Alpha and unclasped his hands from behind his back, stretching slightly as he prepared to leave. "I must be off, alas. It would be nice to be able to remain and make some new friends. The world at large is not always friendly to those of us who are different. Poppy-", he turned his gaze toward the young woman. "You have matured beautifully in the space of only a few hours. The Shift will be kind, I think. As it seems to be with the Takala line. Though I believe that you are the first redhead among them since...hmm. If memory serves, the last Takala to have such brilliant hair was Kana Akane, She of the Black Blade. She was kitsune, and had hair like the fox she became, with a face scarred black across the right eye and cheek from the timbers which fell upon her when the family shrine burned with her inside. She trained with obsidian weapons until she was more deadly than any Samurai. All the men of Japan were terrified of her. You remind me of her, although she passed from this world to the next over four-hundred and thirty-seven years ago."

Poppy studied him silently, understanding dawning in her eyes.

"You loved her, didn't you." She stated, and Asveen nodded, a single tear escaping as he sighed.

"I did. In many ways I still do. There will never be another for me. Farewell, Poppy Marie Takala. May you always walk tenderly in the skin which finds you."

With a nod of farewell to the other males in the room, Asveen left as silently as a shadow, the door only making a soft snick as it closed. Poppy turned to Owen.

"Owen...you know those dreams I told you about before? About Cato?" Legend and Isaiah looked surprised-they hadn't known that she had spoken to Owen much at all, but Poppy was good at keeping secrets-but wisely kept quiet. "He showed up again last night. He told me that his alpha had met with Jasmine recently, that all of the North American packs are now searching for her. That she's gone into hidi-"

"Poppy? Poppy!" Legend was the first out of his seat and at her side. Her eyes had gone blank, her mouth slack as she gazed unseeingly straight ahead. Isaiah too crouched before her, waving his hand back-and-forth in front of her face. He looked at Owen and shook his head, and the Alpha smoothed a hand which trembled only slightly down his bearded face.

"Perhaps this Cato has found a way to communicate while she is awake. We shall wait. Give it a few moments, before we worry overmuch."

***

POPPY TOOK A LONG, deep breath and blinked rapidly upon coming back to herself. She drew back on realizing that all three males were in a tight semi-circle around her, and giggled, covering her mouth as she did so. Isaiah smiled softly at her as he gently took her hand.

"Doing okay?" He asked, and she nodded.

"Was it Cato?" Owen asked, leaning slightly forward. "Did he have more information?"

Poppy nodded, her hand slipping away from her pink lips, her cheeks warming with a soft blush. "Yes. Jasmine met with his alpha again. It was supposed to be secret, but there are some other shifters in their pack who are growing mistrustful of the alpha and his lack of proper leadership. They tracked him and witnessed the meeting, then brought the news back to Cato." She sighed shakily, then smiled, her eyes meeting Owen's. "My parents are still alive! Jasmine has them secreted away, under some kind of a stasis spell deep in-get this-a cornfield. In Iowa, of all places. Hidden-Cato said they may even be underground somewhere, if she wanted to ensure that the pack couldn't easily find them. But-oh, Owen!-they're alive!"

The Alpha laid a warm hand upon her shoulder and gave her a gentle squeeze. "That is very good news. If they are further away, it will take Jasmine longer to return to check on them-it gives us time to locate and extract them before she knows that we're on to her. Legend, you will come with me to bring Poppy's parents home. Isaiah will remain here with you, my dear-"

"I don't need a babysitter-"

"And so you don't. You are approximately twenty-three now, after all." She felt Owen's grin before she glanced up and saw it. "However, you have entered the beginning stages of your first Shift. I cannot, and will not, leave you without assistance. It can be dangerous, even deadly, without preparation and assistance. Many younglings have died during their first Shift, as they attempted to get through it-or were forced to-alone. Isaiah is a seasoned healer. And you trust him. He will stay with you, and that is final." Poppy blinked as she felt the power of his Alpha-command, soft-spoken though it was. She offered a tiny, abrupt nod before averting her gaze to the study of her nervous hands, her fingers playing at undoing a knot in the frayed edge of the couch blanket between her knees. Owen patted her shoulder as he stood, and Legend ruffled his long fingers in her hair.

"See ya soon, kid," he said, smirking. "Don't give Isaiah too much trouble while we're gone, a'ight?"

He and Owen left swiftly via the back door, the sound of the engine revving and gravel crunching being the last thing either Poppy or Isaiah heard of their exit. They turned their eyes on one another, and Isaiah offered her a warm, reassuring smile.

"Are you interested in trying to bring on your Change faster?"

Poppy grinned. "Wouldn't it be wonderful if I knew my new shape before they come back? Yes! How?"

Isaiah stood, wincing as his knees crackled, and offered his hand to her, drawing her up. Her bare toe caught the edge of the oval braided rug, sending her stumbling forward into Isaiah's chest, and his arms immediately encased her, holding her close for a moment. The pair stood that way, shock keeping them from moving. Poppy could hear Isaiah's heart thrumming, and the whoosh of blood in his veins. The motion of his breathing soothed her, and she found herself closing her eyes to listen. His scent embraced her like a warm blanket-the smell of leather, woodsmoke, snow, and the pine forest. Nothing like Cato, yet it set her pulse racing and drove the butterflies in her tummy wild. She brought a hand up, resting it on his chest for a moment before gently pushing him away.

Isaiah himself had been very slightly nuzzling his nose into her hair, breathing deep of the scent that was uniquely Poppy. Vanilla, berries, honey, and something creamy and sweet but unidentifiable, like milk and sugar. He sighed when she pushed him away, but he released her anyway. She was precious, she was everything-but she wasn't his. He wasn't worthy of her. He studied her for a moment, then turned away, shoving his hands in his pockets as he led the way into a side room.

Poppy followed uncertainly. Isaiah had grown suddenly quiet, the moment grown awkward-but she soon forgot that when she saw the room he led her into.

The walls were covered in floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, every book a medical or reference text. A large mahogany desk took center-stage, the pens and other objects upon it each seeming to have their own purposeful place. There was an ostentatiously ugly orange fainting couch sitting at a rakish angle in front of the desk. Isaiah waved his hand at it in disgust, quirking a smile at Poppy.

"Owen's. I don't know where he found the gods-awful thing, but it has been living here in my office for years. I'd get rid of it while he's away, but I think he would make me pay for that decision for years. And I have no wish to be punished for what may well be centuries. Come." He gestured at the couch as he took his place behind the massive desk. "We should make a plan of attack, if you want to be able to show off your new form when your parents come home."

Poppy grinned and plopped down, drawing her legs up and tucking her feet beneath her thighs as she clasped her hands beneath her chin, elbows resting on her knees and her eyes twinkling with excitement.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Hey, Diary, me again. I know I haven't really written much for-well, like, a month. But sooo much has happened! Mom and dad are still out there somewhere, Aunt Jasmine turned out to be this insane witch-shifter hybrid and she kidnapped them and hid them in Iowa somewhere. I met these really amazing guys-they're Shifters, too, but like, the IMPORTANT kind. They're strong and handsome and they smell AMAZING. Oh, and guess what? I'm one too. Not a dude, lol, but a Shifter. I don't know what I turn into yet-something with dark red fur on my body that craves fruit like you wouldn't believe-but I haven't been able to make the full Change yet. Isaiah says it'll probably take a shock to the system. Like what, I don't know. Maybe seeing mom and dad again? Shoot-Isaiah's calling me down for dinner. Gotta go!

Love, Poppy

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***

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"I FINALLY WROTE IN my diary again." Poppy said, sailing her spoon through the cilantro soup Isaiah had set before her. He glanced up at that, surprised.

"I'm glad," he told her, making sure to catch some of the rice from the bottom of the bowl in his own spoon along with the savory broth. "It'll be nice to have something to look back on after you've gotten your parents back and successfully made the Change. I wish I had thought to keep a journal when I was younger. Or at all, really."

"You never did?"

Isaiah shook his head thoughtfully, swallowing his mouthful of food before continuing. "No. Never saw the need. What can I say? I wasn't a studious young man. It took me a long time to become interested in learning, even longer to find my niche as a healer. Don't worry," he said as Poppy turned pensive, her brow furrowing. "You'll find what your calling is. Believe me-you have time."

Poppy grinned and dug back into her soup with gusto.

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***

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SHE WAS RINSING OUT her dishes when she felt a tingle in her brain and vertigo drove her to the floor. The bowl clattered to the bottom of the soapy water in the farmhouse-style sink. Poppy pressed the heels of her hands into her temples as she grimaced and squeezed her eyes shut, doubling over and trying desperately to hold herself together. After a few head-splitting seconds of tingling and vibration and something like static, she saw something approaching from the shadows behind her eyeballs.

"Hey, it's okay! It's just me! Here-" Cato helped her to her feet in the space that was her mind, gripping her arms until she was steady. "I didn't mean to hurt you-"

"No, it isn't that," she said, tilting her face upwards and gazing into his eyes. "It didn't exactly hurt, but it's always unexpected when I'm awake. Makes me dizzy."

Cato nodded and led her over to a crumbling brick wall, lacing his fingers through hers as they sat together quietly. After some time, he turned to her, concern etched across his features.

"I have some more information." He studied their conjoined hands intently. "About where we are. The pack, I mean. It's-the situation-it isn't good, Poppy. He's killing us. One by one, sadistic and brutal and utterly senseless murders. Even the younglings who are helpless because they haven't reached their majority yet and are incapable of the Change. I need you to tell Owen. We've tried to contact the Sovereign, but he's MIA, it seems."

"The Sovereign?"

"Shit. I keep forgetting that this is all new to you. The Sovereign is the Shifter above all others. Only he has the true power to put a definite stop to things like this. He could probably end Jasmine in the matter of a few moments, as well-but he's unreachable. Owen is his heir."

Poppy found herself flabbergasted. She took a deep, calming breath-and at that moment heard Isaiah's voice as though from a long distance away. Cato tilted his head.

"There isn't time. Listen-I may have to run, and soon. I won't let Seth kill me. I'll try to save as many of the others in our pack as I can, but-listen. I'm going to give you this information directly, mind to mind. It's faster and easier for Purebloods like me and, if I've been right about your heritage, for you, too. Hold still."

Cato placed his hands to either side of her head and touched his forehead to hers. She was inundated with a flurry of images and sounds, followed by the whitest light she had ever seen.

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***

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SHE AWOKE TO ISAIAH cradling her head in his lap, smoothing the hair from her sweaty forehead. Her eyes met his with the most serious look he had ever witnessed from her.

"We need to call Owen. Now."

He asked no questions, merely flipped open his cell and pressed the speed-dial button. Poppy snorted at the old-school Nokia and he flashed her a sheepish grin. "Hey, if it ain't broke, don't fix it. Here-" He passed the phone to her as she sat up and he stood, his knee popping as he stretched his leg with a glance down at her. "You're heavier than you look. My damn leg fell asleep."

Owen finally picked up on the other end.

"There's no time, just listen. Cato told me that his alpha, Seth, is killing off their pack. One by one. It's torture, plain and simple. He said they've tried to reach the Sovereign, but that he's gone missing. Seth is working with Jasmine, and they're probably zeroing in on your location. There's no time for anything, not anymore." Poppy spoke fast, enunciating each word with precision in a businesslike manner which all but proved that she had, in fact, greatly matured.

Owen's response was swift and sure. "We've already gotten your parents to safety. I won't say where, we don't know who may be listening. Legend and I will return home soon, and we will decide what to do about Seth. I remember a few weaknesses which may greatly help us in this situation. Reach out to Cato-if I'm correct, the connection he shares with you can go both ways. Have him bring those he can save to the house. They will be safe there. Isaiah knows a few protective wards that can be enacted using the Old Magic. Stay safe. We'll see you soon."

The line went dead and Poppy returned the phone to Isaiah, who slipped it into the back pocket of his faded jeans. He took her hand and gently helped her to her feet as she passed Owen's message along the stream of her thoughts to Cato. Bring them. Bring them all. There is safety here. An image of their home, this sprawling manor house in the middle of nowhere, went with those thoughts, and then she smiled wearily at Isaiah and squeezed his fingers reassuringly.

"Now we wait," she said softly, before a sudden violent shudder overtook her. She bit down on the cry that escaped her lips, and through the glimmer in the air Isaiah thought he saw her human form become that of a giant golden-crowned flying fox, a type of huge bat with a wingspan approaching 5.5'. She shimmered, the tips of her clawed fingers scrabbling for purchase on the tiled floor, clumsy with her newly lengthened arms, shorter and much, much lighter body, and leathery wings. Isaiah's eyebrows nearly disappeared into his hairline as Poppy squawked with what must have been confusion and consternation, before she again shuddered and glimmered, returning to her human form.

Shoving her hair out of her eyes, she glanced bemusedly up at the older Shifter.

"Well. I suppose we've got quite the homecoming to prepare, haven't we?"

* * *

THE END

* * *

About the Author

AMANDA SIEVERT CURRENTLY lives in Wichita Falls, Texas with her two daughters. She is diligently crafting the next book in the All Her Shifters series, of which Between Worlds is the first.