“No, there are two tracks up here.” I tapped my temple. “But one is totally dedicated to thinking and speaking from the gutter.”
“And what is that other, more productive track thinking right now?”
“That it’s my turn to go in feline form.”
“No.” Titus’s dark brows dipped low. “If security thinks you escaped from one of the cat pens, they’ll shoot to kill.”
“The same goes for you. But that won’t happen, because the sorority hosting tonight’s Blind Tiger party already got rid of security. Remember?”
He scowled. “I remember thinking that was aterribleidea, at a zoo.”
“Agreed. But the worst the partiers are going to do if they see me is run screaming and call 911. Besides, you need to be able to talk to your brother, when we find him. Which you can’t do in cat form. He won’t recognize me. We don’t even know if he’ll understand that I’m another shifter.”
“Fair point.” But Titus didn’t look happy about it. “Fine. But one of these days Iwillwin an argument with you.”
I grinned. “Don’t count on it.”
“Go ahead and shift. I’ll stand watch.” Because a shifter was never more vulnerable than when she was caught between forms, unable to defend herself.
I stripped behind the trash bin, tossing him each article of clothing as I removed it, knowing he could see me perfectly well in the dark, even with his human eyes. Titus stuffed my clothes into his backpack as I knelt on the grimy concrete, shivering.
As I shifted, breathing deeply through an agonizing dance of stretching muscles and dislocating joints, I let my mind drift to distract myself from the pain. Usually, that meant reliving a happy childhood event or a particularly satisfying college tryst. But something about the cold concrete and the unpleasant mix of scents wafting from the nearby trash bin called up less pleasant memories.
Hiding behind a pile of bulging black trash bags, staring through the grimy glass of a cabin deep in the woods, watching camo-clad, rifle-carrying men come and go. Waiting for my chance…
My knees cracked as they shifted, and the traumatized muscles connected to them stretched so tight they felt ready to pop like elastic. If I could have unclenched my jaw, I might have screamed.
Teeth sinking through flesh into bone as I broke that redneck bastard’s neck with one bite…
My rib cage expanded, each thin bone creaking as it moved into place until my chest felt like it would tear itself apart. My lungs burned—each breath felt like swallowing glass.
Racing through the forest, trying to outrun the stench of my enemies. The taste of their blood in my mouth. Knowing that I’ve lost control once more. That I may never truly be in control again…
My skin began to itch as fur sprouted all over it, sprouting like grass grown in fast-forward to cover my entire body. Pain shot through my teeth as they grew longer and sharper. As they rearranged themselves in my mouth, like the handiwork of some psychotic dentist.
And finally, when the ordeal was over, I lay panting on the filthy concrete, waiting for the echo of pain to fade from every nerve ending in my body. Stunned, as usual, I needed a moment of stillness—a moment of quiet—in which to understand what had just happened.
Would the process never seem natural? Would my mind never come to terms with the reality my body could no longer deny?
“Robyn?” Titus knelt next to me on the balls of his feet, looking more limber and agile on two legs than I was on four. “Are you ready?”
In reply, I stood, and with my first truly deep breath, alarm resonated through me like the echoing vibration from a cymbal. Never in my life had I smelled such an amazing and startling array of scents. My muzzle bobbed as I sniffed the air, taking them all in.
Titus chuckled. “It’s crazy, isn’t it?”
Feline, bovine, porcine, equine, avian. I smelled moss, and mold, and rot, and bleach, and the dry, grainy scent of some kind of food pellet. And water. Not chlorinated or salted, like pool water, but fresh yet stagnant, like a pond with insufficient circulation.
There were so many scents I could hardly distinguish them. Too many to concentrate on, yet I couldn’t afford to simply block them all out, because I was looking for one scent in particular.
Justus.
Like Titus, but not.
Unlike a dog, I wouldn’t be able to track him, but if I could detect some trace of his scent, I’d know we were in the right place. We had come an hour early, hoping to see and smell all the partygoers as they arrived, including what would hopefully be the only guest on four legs.
Other than me.
“Let’s go,” Titus whispered as he climbed onto the trash bin against the fence at the back of the zoo. “You’re first.”
