Shifting Life

1. A Simple Job

Toby the white dog turned a corner and shifted, easy as breathing. New size, new form, new power, it pulled hard. Jacklyn felt the leash go tight in an instant. It was letting go or loose the arm. Instinctively, she let go. She fell hard on her right knee and braced with her palms, trying to keep her face from meeting the asphalt.

Close call.

Jacklyn cussed getting up. Toby had shifted back again. Jacklyn followed, her knee and palms throbbing. A little winter's chill met the blood on her scraped knee. It meant her new pair of jeans had a tear. She kept cussing from a deeper, angrier place and could feel the dark ripples getting friendly with other dark nonphysical left-behinds in her wake.

The little white dog was doing a good job of putting distance between them. Toby's legs were a blur of piston like determination, but at least he was still easy to spot as it was getting darker. She called his name.

Toby stopped dead in his tracks at end of the block.

Maybe it was Jacklyn's lucky day.

Then the second best nose in town caught a whiff from Oliver Pantzer's Old World Smoked Sausage Shop. Toby the dog put in fourth gear and blazed like a little white streak toward the Sausage shop.

Ordinarily, dog walking in San Francisco is just another job. Not a great paying one, but a few weeks back when the big bad change turned her life up side down, she hadn't had a lot of options. Later, Jacklyn heard the pay was way better walking shifting dogs. Today was her first day branching out. Being a shifter herself she figured she'd have a leg up on any transformer dog. But running after Toby she knew she should have taken into account that dogs have four legs. Even when they put one up, there's still three more to consider.

Jacklyn ran across the street.

The car's brakes screamed, she turned her head and stared into the driver's widened terrified eyes. The bluest eyes, even in the dusk.

Time slowed to a crawl. She began shifting instinctively. She rolled over the car's yellow hood, reaching for anything to hold on to. The car was coming to a full hard stop, but in her biological time freeze it took forever. She dug her nails into the window's rubber lining and felt her arms extend to the point of breaking, not sure if it was velocity or shifting.

She noticed the cold from the car roof on her furry stomach. The burnt smell of brakes was so sharp she could taste it. The car stopped with a jerk, the grip she had fast becoming a liability. The next moment she shifted completely. Something inhuman whined and the car's roof caved under her weight. Jacklyn began her own inevitable trajectory forward. She had no brakes to help. The hooves were useless, hind legs etching shrill lines in the car's canary yellow paint. Her knee smeared fresh blood on the roof as she slid forward. The hood buckled when she bounced over it, tumbling to the ground in front of the car.

She landed on the side and the wind got knocked out hard. For a moment she laid there, blinking at an image of a black stallion set in the chrome grill. All handsome defiance and mane in the wind.

Sexy.

She gasped for air. It tore down her throat and kicked the closed door to her lungs open.

Jacklyn heard the car door close. She heard steps.

"I'm okay," she mumbled. The words made her realize she'd shifted back into human form. No wonder she felt cold. Jacklyn's clothes weren't designed to fit a horse. She was pretty much naked in the street.

This is why you must always control your shifting, remember?

The driver produced a black coat and draped it over her shoulders.

"Don't try to get up. Broken bones? How's the head?"

The man had a voice smooth like browned butter. He went down on one knee beside her, studying her with concerned eyes. His eyes were the blue of exotic faraway lagoons. His hair had a matching shade of pristine honeymoon beach. He tanned well for a blond. There was still traces of a golden summer on his skin. She wondered how far it went.

Jacklyn closed her eyes. She must have hit her head.

When she opened them again the man was still looking at her.

"That was—" he began. "I mean, I heard about it, but I never..."

He flashed a quick grin. It came with a dimple. Jacklyn liked dimples.

The driver was dressed in black, all nice and snug on a fit and toned frame.

Maybe the guy was a thirtyish Art Director, or working at an upscale art gallery. They were close enough to the downtown Bermuda triangle of Art between Leavenworth, Bush and Mission Street. Maybe he was a Silicon Valley tech billionaire in full Steve Jobs get up?

Jacklyn put the coat on and attempted to stand.

The guy helped her up, keeping her steady till she trusted her balance.

Jacklyn was so starved for warmth she could feel the heat from his body. He smelled good enough to eat. As soon as he let go of her she missed his touch.

"See my shoes?" she asked. "The shoes just tend to fall off."

Jacklyn spotted one bright purple sneaker. The guy found the other.

Life is a lot easier when you have shoes.

She took it from his outstretched hand. She liked the contrast of his lighter skin with her darker.

Nice strong hand, long warm fingers, two silver rings, too wide and stylish to be wedding rings.

Hopefully.

"Isn't it wolves and werewolves mainly?" he asked. "I've never heard of..."

He was dealing with his first third degree horse shifting encounter.

Jacklyn had made an impression.

Speaking of.

"I'm sorry about the car," she said.

"Don't be." He smiled again, blue eyes twinkling, "It's not mine."

Jacklyn felt a change, like a sudden drop in pressure.

"They're coming," she said, not knowing who, or why, only that is was not good. Horsey-sense was pretty well tuned in that department.

"You're in trouble," she added.

"Always."

He grinned.

"Keep the coat for now," he said. "Give it back to me noon Thursday. I take full payment in freshly ground coffee."

He told her the name of the coffee shop and walked away. He waved, but didn't look back.

Confident bastard.

The goofy smile on her face was hard to peel off.

Jacklyn's horsey sense told her it was high time she was not found near the beat up Ferrari. Also, there was the pressing matter of finding Toby the shifting dog, or face the wrath of his owner.

Jacklyn sighed. She buttoned up the coat and headed for Pantzer's sausage shop, pushing her fists deep into the coat's roomy pockets. Her left hand met with a hard knobby shape. Before she pulled it out to see what it was, she knew she'd missed one obvious explanation for an all black dress code. For all she knew she might have just run into San Francisco's hottest undertaker.