Catalyst

Chapter Twenty-Two

 "Sweetheart, you look like shit," came Elliott's voice from the dark. Phoebe would have sighed with relief, but the vines wrapped around her chest were constricting and she doubted she had the energy anyway. She could only lay limp and wait for some piece of her to touch solid ground.

Elliott's late twenties face came into view, and at first that didn't make sense. They were both underground, with no holes to the surface. No sunlight. But the air around Elliott seemed to glow, and she realized it was him. He was lit up from the inside like a jack o' lantern; a slight green-white light seeping out of him and coating the walls of whatever crevice he'd dragged her into with eerie shimmers as if they were in an indoor pool.

As the vines touched the ground, uncurling themselves from her body, she debated with herself over whether or not he looked like an angel or an alien.

"Look, I can suppress myself decently down here, but it's only a matter of time, capiche?" he asked.

Had he been saying something? Maybe she had missed it. That sounded like the last sentence of something... not the only sentence of something. But he was odd. It could possibly be the only thing he said...

"Focus! Phoebe, sweetheart, listen to me, alright?"

She was fully on the floor now, the vines having vanished upward, and he stood over her face, his hands touching her spiked head as if inspecting for bumps.

Phoebe nodded, but she couldn't guarantee that she would hear him. The ringing was quieter, and she could make out his voice, or pieces of it anyway, but at the same time she could hear shouting and fighting above them. Her senses intensifying and dulling like a flickering candle flame. They must only have been ten or so feet below the ground to hear them so clearly, and their cavern was hollow. What if the shifters fell through and landed on top of them? She could barely move, never mind roll to avoid being crushed by falling tigers.

"That's it, change back. I can't talk to you when you're like this."

Was she already shifting? No. That's right, she probably should. Everything was still hazy and her mind was wandering, bouncing against the walls of her skull. She was stunned, maybe. Like a small animal when it gets scared. It would look dead, and feel dead, and be for all intents and purposes...dead. Would she spring back to life in a flurry of movement like a stunned mouse, and then rush off to save the day?

Given the state of her body, it was doubtful.

Despite her reservations, she closed her eyes and thought about being human. About losing James as a dragon, losing that new part of herself that loves flight and freedom and the power of armor.

It hurt.

Shifting had never really been painful before. It had been uncomfortable a few times, sure, or left her feeling weak or sick, but this was a gut-wrenching pain that shot through her spine and her chest. She thought her ribs were breaking. A snap echoed in the dark chamber and her hip cramped and spasmed. Sharp pinpricks of pain ran down her legs and when her right leg twitched she was comforted by the feel of it. Wiggling her toes, the muscles moved in both sets and her nerves carried the sensations to her brain.

Her back and part of her chest and stomach were still dragon and she was reminded of James, when he had been writhing in pain after his crash, and how shifting had seemed so grueling. Concentrating harder, and doing her best to ignore the painful stretching and bunching of her back muscles, her spine cracked and reshaped itself underneath her.

Elliott took off his polo shirt, although he was immediately covered in another, and laid it over her. Panting, Phoebe blinked her eyes at the glow on his skin. With her human eyes it was much greener.