Acceptance.
Love.
Belonging.
That’s what the earth children offer, and we blessed didn’t even know its value until suddenly we did. We didn’t know such a thing existed, not until we experienced it for ourselves. It’s like we’ve finally felt heat for the first time, and when Hyperion opens his eyes, they’re glistening.
You’re pathetic, I say. I didn’t cry the first time I hugged Liz. I didn’t cry the first time I shifted, either. If you’re my biggest ally, I’m doomed.
Hyperion scowls. “Shut up.” And then he sets Coral down, and he walks up the stairs with her, leaving me out here alone.
Jerk.
I curl into a small ball outside the house and listen as the sounds of Christmas Eve drift my way. Laughter. Shouting, but in mock horror. Rufus and Gordon both shouting and then closely after, Sammy’s peals of laughter.
I didn’t try chocolate yet, I realize, but I don’t care. The only thing worse than not trying it would be trying it without Liz. Once she’s awake, I’ll make Hyperion shift, and I’ll take my turn. As it turns out, though, she sleeps the night away. It’s past midnight when Hyperion finally walks back to the porch, Asteria, Gordon, and Rufus in tow.
“Thank you,” Asteria says. “I know there was a risk to Liz, but that was. . .” She sniffs. “I never hated her, you know. I was jealous, and I longed for what she had, or rather, I longed to have a known place in the world, but I didn’t ever hate her.”
“Liz?” Hyperion asks.
Asteria nods. And now, I think I love her, for giving us this.
“It’s called family,” Rufus says, smiling. “And it’s the best thing I’ve ever had.” A tear rolls down his cheek, and I want to mock him for it, but I can’t.
Because Gordon’s eyes are glistening, and Asteria’s sniffing, and even in this form, I can’t blame them. Humans are weak. That’s a simple truth, but in some ways, they’re far, far stronger than we are. I think that strength is in their bizarre kind of family, the bonds between Liz and her siblings.
And the way they manage to share and extend those bonds even to monsters like us.
“Fluff Dog likes me now,” Hyperion says.
“Only because you gave him a fistful of meat,” Asteria says. “He likes anyone with ham.”
“Fluff Dog’s a she,” Gordon says. “And she likes me even without meat.”
Rufus frowns. “You really shouldn’t have given her so much. She’ll get an upset stomach, and that’s not only very smelly, but it makes a lot of work for the kids.”
Hyperion rolls his eyes. “Oh, sure. She looked really happy to see you, what with all that spinning and yapping.” He snorts.
“You sound exactly like Coral,” Asteria says. “It’s beyond bizarre.”
“Oh?” Hyperion asks. “At least we don’t have matching clothing.”
“She was wearing grey,” Asteria says. “Mine was silver.”
Hyperion turns toward me slowly, his expression utter disbelief. He’s learned a lot about being human in a single night. I’m not sure I can handle the kind of nightmare he’ll become in another week or two. I fear Asteria’s right. Coral, the crabbiest of all the small people, is turning him into her big, meaty clone.
Alright, I say. We have to go to sleep or Santa Claus won’t come.
“That’s not real,” Asteria says. “It’s a made-up story.”
I roll my eyes. Get out, all of you, and let me go back inside.
“We’re not stopping you,” Gordon says.
Shift, I command as I do the same. Then I climb the steps up to my room, and I slide into bed beside my sleeping bonded. Santa Claus may not really be coming, but under the tree that everyone decorated without me, there are a dozen gifts that say they’re for Liz. . . From the ‘real’ Santa Claus, who flies through the night.
It’s hours and hours before the first rays of dawn appear, and that’s when Liz gasps loudly and sits up. “It’s Christmas!” She beams, rubbing her eyes. Then she turns to me. “Wait.” She blinks. “What happened? Did it work?”
