Shifters

Chapter 7

Chapter Seven 

Torrence 

Thud thud thud. 

I can hear the blood screaming behind my ears but it doesn’t make me stop running. Every footfall is a step closer to home, to Aunt Helen and our next life. The one after this. There’s always another life, twice a year, seven lives so far and an eighth to come. I’m looking forward to it. 

“Run faster,” Jay breathes next to me. He sounds winded, which is rare for him. We must be hauling ass. Try to catch up to us now, suckers. My muscles pump and flex like a machine as we burst down the subdivision sidewalks, round corners and skirt by cars whose drivers glance up at us as they slam on their breaks. A woman applying salmon pink lipstick jolts to a stop as we cross in front of her, the bright color smudging across her cheeks like blood in a slasher movie. She glares up at us, but Jay and I don’t bother to wave her off. When we finally make it to our street and see our peeling yellow houses facing each other like old friends, we pause.

Something is wrong. 

“Do you feel it, too?” Jay asks me, and I nod. Without even going in I can tell something in my house is off. Mitzi is no longer at her window across the street, and everything is eerily quiet. The agents from before have abandoned the branch a block down, leaving just a little square of yellow tape behind. I can almost hear my aunt breathing inside, the air is so still. 

“Should we go in?” I ask, and Jay sucks in a breath, his way of saying “Yes but I don’t want to.”  I bite my bottom lip, and we step onto the sidewalk. Slowly, oh so slowly, we cross to the front door; we’re graceful like animals, quiet like a classroom during a calculus test. Observant. Wary. Jay takes my hand as we reach the door and he taps three quick times, each knock ringing out on our street and giving our position away. I’m terrified. 

“Coming,” I hear my aunt’s voice deep inside the house. Then there’s the sound of feet on stairs and the click of the lock. The door swings open and before I can react I see Aunt Helen’s face. I breathe a sigh of relief. 

“Thank God you two made it,” she gasps, and reaches to drag us inside. She hesitates a moment on the porch before closing the door behind us and dead-bolting it. The moment we’re in she hugs us, then rushes to the kitchen. There’s a bag haphazardly filled with personal belongings splayed out on the table like an OR patient. She starts grabbing food from the cabinets and throwing together bags of Goldfish and Cheetos and handing them to us. On the one hand I feel like I should help, but on the other hand this doesn’t seem like my Aunt Helen. Cool, calm, collected Aunt Helen. The woman who ushers us out the front door and into a moving van at midnight, then takes us out for hash-browns and blueberry pancakes in the morning. 

“Where’s Mitz?” is the first thing out of Jay’s mouth, and I suddenly realize that she’s nowhere in sight. A flicker of doubt and pain flashes across Aunt Helen’s face, and in her slight hesitation I understand: something dire has changed. Then there’s a sudden and thundering blast from the front door. All three of our heads whip to the hall in unison as wood splinters out and away from the door jamb, the silver doorknob flying past my right shoulder. I duck but too late, I see Mitzi’s face as she and six Academy Agents bust into the foyer, and rush in our direction. Even in horrible danger, Jay and I can’t help but exchange one last glance: 

What the hell is she doing with them? 

Then, before I can fight back, there’s a dart in my arm and a bag over my head.