The time of the appointment drew closer, and over the days leading up to it, Zahara would watch me every time she came over. She mentioned the appointment again when Amelia left the room, but when I ignored her and went on with playing, she got quiet – thoughtful. And she didn’t mention it again.
Not until the night before the appointment, that was.
Zahara was over, which was pretty normal. I tried to ignore her every time she came over, focusing on trying to force my brain to go feral. Zahara scared me still, but she hadn’t done anything since she’d brought me back. Besides, Amelia really liked her and it was clear she liked Amelia, too, so I was kind of glad Amelia had people company that she liked, even if I wasn’t so sure about Zahara myself.
They’d been running lines for Amelia’s last play of the semester – which was still a couple months out, but she was trying to memorize the script now – and Zahara did a good job reading all the other parts and even putting some emotion into them, while Amelia…well, it was clear that this was Amelia’s passion. She loved acting and she loved singing, so her favorite plays were musicals. Normally musicals were kind of boring to me, but I liked listening to her sing around the house as she did chores and stuff.
They took a break after the second run-through, Amelia flipping through the script. “I’m really having trouble with this one soliloquy. It doesn’t flow, you know? I’m glad we get a variety of playwrights, but this one is tough. The language is too choppy.”
She frowned at her script, muttering to herself.
Zahara, meanwhile, turned her attention to me, where I was busy batting a catnip mouse around. “He’s still spending all day playing?” She asked hesitantly.
“Yeah! I hope the surgery won’t strain him too much. I’m worried the vet is going to tell me to keep him minimally active for a couple of weeks, and I don’t know how to do that. He’s so into playing! He basically does it all day and night. I’m going to ask the vet while we’re there if that’s normal for a Bengal. I mean, when I took him in initially, the vet said he was healthy and all, so it’s probably fine, but I’d rather check to make sure.” She flipped the page to the next sheet.
“Right, the surgery,” Zahara said slowly. She kept her eyes on me for a while, just watching, then sighed abruptly and turned to face Amelia.
“You can’t do the surgery,” she informed her bluntly.
Amelia stopped reading and looked up, surprised. “What? But it’s good to spay and neuter pets unless they’re specifically for breeding! It helps prevent cancer and stuff and helps with behavioral things, too.”
I stopped, staring at Zahara, afraid for the next words out of her mouth. Sure, I wasn’t feral yet like I’d hoped, but eventually it would happen, so eventually I wouldn’t care anymore, right? She didn’t need to get involved in this.
But apparently Zahara didn’t care what I thought about it.
“That’s true for animals,” she agreed. “But not for shifters. And he’s a shifter. He’s not a cat.”
For a moment, there was just silence in the room as I stared at Zahara in dismay and Amelia just stood there, frozen.
“I don’t know why he’s pretending to be a cat,” Zahara went on. “The reason he ran after I first came wasn’t because he was surprised by a stranger, it was because he knew I recognized him for what he was. I also told him he needed to tell you what he was. I told him that again when I caught him trying to sneak on a bus to leave town. And I think – I think that’s what changed his activity. I think he’s intentionally trying to go feral now, so he really can just be cat.”
I was dismayed that she had read me that easily, but also upset that she was telling Amelia all of this. The guaranteed result would be I would be kicked out, which while I kind of didn’t want that because I liked Amelia, I’d take that any day over the other threatened result.
Forcing me to shift back. I still had no idea of Zahara could do that, but I wasn’t about to risk it.
Amelia was still just standing there, barely even blinking, her mouth slightly open in shock.
Zahara sighed and came over in my direction, leaning down to scoop me up. She ignored it when I flattened myself against the floor and started to hiss at her, picking me up without any hesitation and then setting me firmly on the end table.
“I don’t know his name or where he’s from,” she went on. “I’ve looked into missing shifters since I found out about him, but haven’t found anything. It’s hard to determine shifter ages when they’re in animal form, because their animal form can’t really grow as slowly as their human form – it could cause humans to get suspicious if they saw the animal for any length of time and noticed how slowly it was growing. But since you said the vet thought he wasn’t yet an adult, I’m guessing he’s mid-teens at most. Possibly younger. But he’s definitely old enough to understand everything you say and to know exactly what he’s doing. Why he’s doing it, I have no idea, and he refuses to shift back to tell me.”
My ears were flattened against my head and I desperately wanted to bolt, but I wasn’t sure anymore if that would achieve much. Amelia knew. This place was no longer home to me and never could be. And for all I knew, Amelia might ask Zahara to force me to shift back so she could have an explanation.
The moment that thought entered my head, I nearly panicked. I couldn’t risk that. Amelia might be nice to a cat, but she probably wouldn’t appreciate a shifter teen who’d tricked his way into her house. If she got mad and wanted Zahara to force me to shift back, I couldn’t really blame her – but I also couldn’t risk it.
I squirmed, attempting to free myself from Zahara’s hands, and to my surprise she released me – but then I found a cage of vines grown up around me, snuggly keeping me in place and refusing to let me escape.
I let out a surprised meow and then tried to slip through the vines, but they just adjusted and locked me inside, just as determined as I was.
“He takes very negatively to any mentions of shifting back,” Zahara observed out loud, watching my struggles. “It took me a while to put the pieces together, but I’m pretty sure now that’s why he ran away – and why he was trying to go feral. If he went feral, he couldn’t shift back.” She turned her attention to Amelia. “I realize this is a shock, and I’m sorry I didn’t say anything sooner, but I was hoping he’d tell you himself. Clearly, he’s not willing to, even if it costs him permanently.” She made a bit of a wry face, which immediately turned serious. “I don’t know what’s going on with him, but I will say this – if he was willing to go through with the appointment tomorrow rather than admit the truth, whatever reason he has to stay in cat form is pretty serious. So while I can’t condone tricking you like he did, I don’t think it was out of maliciousness. Likely, he just enjoyed being taken care of by you. It’s okay, though,” she added. “I can take him to some shifters I know, they might be able to get through to him better. And you and I can go to the shelter and adopt a real cat if you want.”
I felt a sting at that idea. Not so much that Amelia would get the cat she always really wanted, but that I could be so easily thrown away and handed off to perfect strangers. Zahara had guessed some of my issues and even why I’d stayed with Amelia, but of course she wouldn’t let me stay any longer. Not now. And that was irrelevant anyway – Amelia herself wouldn’t want me, would she? She wanted a cat, and I…was not a cat.
I stopped struggling to escape and drooped a bit, my head hung down and my tail wrapped around me. I wanted to cry, but I couldn’t. I’d found a home again, but it wasn’t for me. I’d tried to pretend it could be if I could just go feral in time, but I hadn’t been able to manage, so now it was gone. And I was going to be taken to live with strangers who probably wouldn’t understand why I wouldn’t shift back and definitely wouldn’t let me go feral.
Even without being able to stay with Amelia, though, I still wanted that. I wanted to just be able to not ever have the risk of being sent back, of knowing for sure that no one could ever find me. I wanted to be just a cat. I didn’t want to be the human side of me anymore.
Then I felt Amelia’s fingers softly touching the top of my head. “You must be in a lot of trouble to run away at your age and not want to shift back. To not want it enough to try to go feral to ensure it.”
Far too soon, she withdrew her fingers, and I sat stuck in the vine cage, scared and unwilling to look at either of them.
“You’re sure he’s not a missing kid? If he’s not an adult, there ought to be a missing person alert out there for him somewhere, and someone looking for him. Shouldn’t we be looking into that?”
“I did,” Zahara assured her. “Of course, without knowing who he is in human form, I’m kind of stuck. I looked into any missing shifter kids, though, and none of them matched. Then I asked some other fairies to look into the idea in their areas. My extended family is fairly influential in the supernatural world, and some of us are involved in politics or have connections to police, so they have better ways to look into that kind of stuff than I can. But a three-country-wide search turned up nothing. If this kid is reported missing, it’s not as a shifter. That could mean he’s a runaway foster kid, with his foster parents not knowing he’s a shifter and clearly being bad enough foster parents that he feels like he had to run away and stay shifted permanently. That’d be my first guess, honestly. As far as tracing down who that is, though? It’s not possible without some kind of help from him. We don’t know his age or any characteristics to be able to narrow it down. Plus,” she tapped her foot lightly against the floor, “if he ran away from an abusive home, returning him isn’t the right answer. If he were human, I’d say involve the authorities and make sure they know about the abuse and remove him from that home, but he’s not. Supernatural lives are inevitably more complicated than humans’ that way – sometimes running away is the only answer.”
They were both quiet for a bit, then Zahara’s tone changed. “You’re not upset about him being a shifter and pretending he was a cat?” She sounded a little hesitant. “Or that I didn’t tell you as soon as I knew?”
“It’s a bit of a shock,” Amelia admitted. “But it kind of makes sense. He seemed smarter than a cat. Sometimes I was pretty sure he understood me. And he behaved differently with you than I thought animals were supposed to. I’m glad you told me before tomorrow, though.” She sounded chagrinned. “I’m sorry, um, whatever-your-name-is. That…that would be kind of traumatic, wouldn’t it?” Then she paused. “Yet you were willing to let me do that rather than admit the truth.” She thought for a moment, then suddenly spun around and grabbed the front of Zahara’s shirt.
“We can’t let him go back to wherever he came from! Wherever it is has to be really awful for him to be desperate enough for all of that! He can just – stay here, right? The landlord knows I have a cat, so if he wants to stay as a cat, he can be a cat. I can just, uh, adjust somewhat, I suppose? Feed him normal food? Try to make him feel more like a roommate and less like a pet?”
Zahara was apparently as startled as I was, because she took a moment to respond. “You…still want to keep him?”
“Well, he clearly needs somewhere safe to stay!” Amelia responded heatedly. “And I don’t mind! He’s been a gentleman so far, and now that I know he’s actually a shifter, we can help him some, right? We can treat him like a person and make sure he’s taken care of. Maybe eventually he’ll feel safe enough with us that he’ll shift back, but until and unless he does, he can at least be treated right by us.” Then she lost some of her bravado. “Right? You’d help me? It’s a little different than just having a cat, I feel like it’d be best to have you help me.”
Zahara smiled a bit and her tone was warm when she responded. “You realize you basically just asked me if I want to raise a kid with you, right?”
Amelia startled babbling something about it not being quite like that, but Zahara ignored her flustered response and turned her attention to me instead.
“If we agree to let you stay, we need to set some ground rules. First, stop with the feral thing. That’s no good. We won’t force you to shift back and we’ll leave that to your own timing, but you have to stop trying to go feral. Understood?”
They both paused and waited, and after a long moment, I nodded. If they would let me stay and keep me safe here, then I didn’t need to go feral. I could still be myself and be okay.
“Good, then we’re agreed on that. Second rule, or, well, not a rule, but it’d be handy to know your name. Or a name we can call you. I get that you won’t shift back, but can you maybe spell it out for us?” Zahara paused. “Actually, I’m not sure how good you’d be at trying to manipulate a pen in cat form,” she muttered to herself. “If not that, then let’s try something else. We can go online and read you lists of names, then you can respond when it’s the right name. Would that work?”
That might, except they’d never guess my name, so they could end up spending hours trying to read me names without success. I wasn’t sure any more than she was if I could actually write with a pen, but it seemed worth a shot.
I tapped at the vines with one paw, then waited patiently. Zahara figured out what I was asking for and let them pull back – I noticed they basically withdrew until they reached their roots and then disappeared entirely, which was kind of weird to me but probably was just how fairy magic worked.
I hopped off the end table, went over to the counter where Amelia kept a notepad for her shopping list and a pencil next to it. A little awkwardly, I attempted to pick it up in my mouth and tried to drag it across the page, scribbling out probably the worst rendition of my name since I’d been old enough to attempt writing it.
“Ari,” Zahara read out loud.
It was short for my full name, Ariston, but my parents had called me Ari and there was no way I was admitting my full name, just in case they figured it out. In fact, I was having second guesses even now, wondering if I’d given away too much, but it was too late now. It wasn’t like the name Ariston should even make them notice the truth, because most people knew me as Leon since my aunt hadn’t been fond of my full name – but I still couldn’t totally avoid the nervous flutter in my stomach as I realized I’d actually admitted my real name to them. A possible way to track down who I really was.
“Well,” Amelia interrupted my tangled thoughts with a gentle pet and a warm smile, “welcome to our household, Ari.”
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