Damsel

A Shell

Ella Bee

It was all in the way the sun melted into the already orange sunrise. That glowing orb had her mesmerized, transfixed with the urge to sit down at her paint set and capture these feelings overtaking her other senses. She had to get it out, had to catch this whimsical, unreal flutter of fantasy that gave everything a silver, almost foggy haze. She had to paint this dreamlike world. Before she knew it, four hours had passed. Morning was in full swing and in front of the window was a completed, absolutely average painting of a skyline sitting on top of a canvas of gray and green water. Whatever had inspired it was gone now, and Ella felt nothing but a deep flatness, an absence of feeling. She liked the Bayou. She liked Ari O'Rinn. She liked Margaret and Anastasia. She liked Samson. Most of all, she liked how normal she felt here.

No denying it, this place was strange. The Bayou was a swamp city tucked deep in the woods of the South, hidden from the rest of the world by a series of frightening 'locals' and tremendous tree coverage. At all hours, kids roamed about the docks, fishers waded in the shallows and peddlers peddled breads and meat sticks, bartering services, as there was no coin or cash here. As far as place went, this was home. It was that simple.

She was just about to whip out her ungraded bundle of tests and get started on the daylong process of correcting and marking papers when three quick knocks told her Samson arrived. Only when she swung open the door did she realize she wasted her specific goofy grin on a very different boy.

It was not Samson standing on the other side of the door, but the obnoxious, silent, brooding boy they called Shifter, always whispering the word like a cuss. Though she had to admit, he was very handsome, blonde and built, with a jaw to die for. Ella had a thing for a good jaw and his eyes, set deep in his face had a luring, dangerousness to them.

"Hi, um, Shifter." She didn't know where to put her hands, which was stupid, and settled on her hips.

"Having a good morning?" He said, all lazy and casual, as if he were more familiar with her than anyone else on the planet.

It made her uneasy. And all the terrible reasons that would bring him here, to her room, flooded her. "Did something, uh, happen?" He almost spoke, but Ella talked right over him. "Did something happen to Samson?"

Trying to play catch up, he squinted and asked. "Samson? No."

"Margaret or Ari? Is everyone ok?"

"Are you feeling alright?"

Ella blinked a few times, confused and uncomfortable with how he lingered at her door, like he expected her to step aside and let him in.

"Is there a reason you're here?"

Now the Shifter did push passed her and Ella found herself shuffled aside as he strolled into her room to stop before her painting. It brought him to an abrupt stop and he perked his head sideways.

"Does...does Ari know you're here?" Ella said meekly, still trying to put together why the Shifter was standing easily in her living area, like he had every right to be there.

"Course she does. Ari knows everything, doesn't she?" He reached towards her painting and a completely absurd feeling struck her. "I was thinking last night. If those family members north are working for the council, and can do what they can do, why wouldn't they use them to move in on Anna Marie. Or on you and I? Those were some series gifts and – "

"What are you going on about?"

Since the Shifter, a man whose most redeeming quality was that he disappeared occasionally, seemed bent on making himself at home, Ella figured she should continue with her morning ritual. Eventually Samson would arrive and force him to leave and they would meet Harrow for lunch and a fishing lesson. Yes. She would keep applying powder to her nose in the very inconveniently placed mirror that she desperately needed to move from the slender, poorly lit hallway. He would leave. Eventually, he always did. Ella took extra care tucking her hair into a bun on her head and listened to Shifter re-explain his completely unintelligible rant.