1
Moss
The kitchen hummed with life. Moss hummed along with it. It was Friday night. Dinner service started in a matter of minutes. They had a full house: half a dozen tables, booked out up to a year in advance, and a select few diners about to dive into the most glorious gastronomical experience of their lives.
*Feeling humble tonight, huh?*His cousin Pania’s telepathic voice washed over his mind like a wave streaming into a rock pool. His inner octopus perked up, exploring the psychic resonances that came with the connection between his mind and hers.
Pania was a long-finned eel shifter. Her psychic presence felt like riverbanks overshaded by hanging branches, silty waters, and long journeys.
A lifetime of teasing from Pania and her twin sister Ataahua taught him that his octopus felt like an annoying little shit who broke everything it touched and then scooted away in a cloud of ink before it got caught.
Honestly… They might be right.
He snorted and sent Pania the mental equivalent of a poke in the ribs. *You were listening to me think about how great my life is and what an amazing cook I am? That was private.*
*Think more quietly, then.*
*Maybe if your head wasn’t so big, your private thoughts wouldn’t sound like someone honking on a foghorn?*Ataahua’s voice was mock-sincere.
His lovely big cousin, just trying to be helpful. Definitely not waiting with her teeth bared to bite any toes that ventured into the water.
*I heard that too, genius.*
“Doors open, chef!” a voice called from the front of house.
Moss raised his head. Everyone in the kitchen was looking at him. He took a moment to soak it in, the same way he did every night.
Who the hell would have thought he’d end up here? A shrimpy kid from Aotearoa New Zealand who didn’t know a filleting knife from a sharp stick, to this. King of his own shining domain, a kitchen that ran like a well-oiled machine and a team that produced meals that were as much works of art as they were delicious, exciting puzzles of taste and texture and temperature and—
*We’re all waiting, cuz,*Ataahua drawled.
He grinned at her, then spoke to the whole room. His cousin wasn’t the only one who’d gotten fidgety while he lost himself in daydreams. His inner octopus was sneaking a look out through his eyes, wondering not-so-quietly how securely the extractor hoods were stuck to the walls, and how hard it would be to undo the screws that kept them there.
Don’t you dare,he warned it silently, then cleared his throat. “Here we are again. Some poor sod just walked in that front door. They have no idea what they’re in for.” He paused, letting a grin spread across his face. “Let’s blow their minds.”
“Yes, chef!” everyone chorused.
“All right. What are you all waiting around for? We’re gonna kill it toni—”
A sudden, nauseating emptiness clawed through him.
“I—” he began, and everything went black. When he came to, he was doubled over a stainless-steel counter. Pania was right next to him, her brown eyes concerned.
His stomach rebelled. He swallowed hard, automatically checking in with his octopus.What the hell was that about?
There was no reply.
Nausea roiled through him. No. No, this couldn’t be happening.
Anything but this.
“Cuz? Everything okay?”
Pania touched his arm gently. Her concern nudged the edges of his mind.
“It’s gone,” he gasped, too horrified to remember to speak telepathically. The rest of the team were human. His shifter nature was a secret. They had no idea their head chef could transform into an octopus.
Except he couldn’t. Not anymore.
