Nine Lives

Twenty-Five: Alice

Father shouldn't have let him in. Jack shouldn't have seen my room. I shouldn't try to be normal. I have to accept it. I'm anything but. It just hurts to know I can never love.

My walls are blank, like my mind. We need a solution. Something to stop this. Time is on our side. We have forever --well, I do.

Suddenly, I am stricken with an idea. I Shift quickly, bounding down the open staircase. The house is dark, cast in shadow. An oriental rug spreads across the huge, open living room. The black leather couch seems ominously out of place against the white walls. They'll stay up for a while. Somehow, I wake up and its changed, not often. Just my birthdays.

Birthdays. They've never really been a huge deal in my family. My Shifter grandparents and cousins and aunts and uncles come over and we eat cake. It's always loud, my younger --not to mention inexperienced-- cousins Shifted. Their Shifts are all feline, like Father and I, but we don't know if they've been Gifted or not yet. I was the third, after Grammy and my Aunt Audrey.

I return from my thoughts, jumping into reality, and slink through the huge wooden door to the library. Well, it's not really a library, but that's what Father calls it. It has a thousand plus books, the name fits.

Five huge bookshelves tower over me; most are dusty, covered in cobwebs, with fingerprints and stripes where books were pulled out. A wide grey rug covers the oak boards. When I'm in my normal form, it's red. But I'm Shifted, and everything is grey, blue, and yellow. I step on it with a delicate black paw. The air seems to stop, the steady air current freezing. Everything is stale, the air stopping. I can sense it. The air has a certain indescribable feel to it. Shaking, I continue in, tiny paw prints embedded in the dust behind me.

✯✯✯✯✯

A cloud of dust billows in my eyes as I lift the book onto the desk. It's an old book; it's cover is cracked leather, spine bound with a gold clasp. The book's pages are yellow and faded. A tarnished golden plaque on the front reads, Shifters Liber: Praedicta legendas maledictisque. Latin for The Book of the Shifters: Prophecies, Legends and Curses. Hopefully, the curses and legends part is accurate.

The Book flips open, by itself. I jump back, considering running back. It's too late now. The pages wildly turn and jump around. Flipping back and forth, indecisive. A wind blows around the once-still room, other books flying around. Papers get caught in the draft and start spinning around wildly. My own hair is blown across my face, shielding my vision from the Book.

I yelp as the gust picks up and I'm tossed to the floor; the Book changing its mind so quickly, it causes a miniature tornado in the library. The rug curves up, being sucked in. Everything lighter than I am is caught in the vortex. I hold on to a floorboard, desperately grabbing at anything to keep from being pulled into the storm.

As I feel the wooden snapping and splintering my fingers, I do something I've never attempted. I Half-Shift. My nails elongate into claws, I feel my ears prick up, and my teeth sharpen. My vision is perfectly clear, even in black and white.

My nails dig into the wood and I heave myself up through the whipping wind. It tears at my clothes and hair. And it's just getting stronger. I fight it and touch the Book. It burns my fingertips, like dipping my hand in ice-cold water or in front of a blasting air-conditioner. My fingers curl around the cover --I try to ignore the aching cold racing through my arm.

It closes. The wind stops, returning to the stale air. Papers drop. Books thud to the floor. My hair falls over my face like a frizzy curtain. Suddenly, I don't want to read the Book anymore. Alone, at least.

I pull up Facebook messaging on my phone. Jack, I text, can you come over? Now?

A little bubble pops up, showing me he's responding. And it doesn't take long. What about the Dictator?

Dad? I type. He's out, like usual. He was around for my birthday. Then he left. He could be in Canada for all I know.

I, for some reason, picture Jack smiling. I'll be over in a few. Of course, a few minutes felt like a few years.

✯✯✯✯✯

Jack arrived quickly, with an eager grin on his face. His dark mop of hair covers his one eye. He pulls me into a quick and friendly embrace, but it ends with him blushes.

"So?"

"Right." I start walking for the slightly open door on the other side of the big room. "I was in the library. I was trying to see if there was anything about Shifters and Mortals, I--" my voice is soft and hopeless.

"You were trying to see if there was any possible loophole, weren't you?" I nod. "Cool. Can I see the book?"

I make some sort of sound that's a mix between a laugh, a groan, and a sigh. "You only live once." Once I say it, I realize how ironic it was.

We walk into the library, Jack's hand closed around mine. A certain chill spreads up my arm when he touches me, but it's quickly replace by a beautiful warmth. A radiance I only feel when I touch Jack. I wonder if he feels it too.

It's a sensation. A love. An understanding. And I never want it to end. I want him to hold onto me forever. Maybe if he holds me long enough, my curse will shatter. Our curse. Shifters will love freely and can coexist with Mortals. It'll shatter like glass. Detonate in a fiery explosion of emotions, hatred, and love. All at once. It would be beautiful.

It ends fast as Jack's hand leave mine to run his fingers over the Book. He traces the Latin.

"Woah. What is this? Pig-latin or somethin'?"

"No, you idiot," I say jokingly. "Close. But no, Latin. The Book of the Shifters," I translate. He sighs and goes to open the cover. I panics and leap at him.

"No!" I cry, pulling him away.

"What?"

I sigh. "Watch." The book opens when I go to it, its pages flipping wildly once more. The wind starts to pick up, the vortex of papers and books starting up again. I close it before it can get out of hand again.

"Hmm." Jack's eyebrows dance. "So, that's what happened 'round here. Thought there was a freak tornado or somethin' you weren't tellin' me 'bout."

"You're such a typical Mortal."

He pulls my into his arms, hugging me. Maybe if we hug long enough, the curse will break into a billion shards of glass. "Well. You're such a typical Shifter."