Chapter 7 Subpar Blood
SUBPAR BLOOD
RAYA
I startle when my phone rings a few hours later, buzzing along the counter next to my laptop. Seeing that the caller ID is proudly proclaiming the best mother in the world to be calling, I smile and pick it up.
“Hey, Mom.”
“Hi, honey! I’ve got your dad here too," Mom says, and the forced cheer in her voice immediately puts me on alert.
“Oh okay, what’s up? Is everything okay?” I vacillate between worrying I’m in trouble and worrying something is wrong with someone else in the family.
“Everything’s fine, we just wanted to check in on you.”
So, the first option then. I wrack my brain, wondering what I could have done, or not done, to warrant a tag-team phone call from my parents.
“How have you been doing with your shifting?” Dad asks.
“It’s…” I don’t know what to say, and the silence is dreadful. I can practically hear a timer tick-tick-ticking down the seconds to my doom. “It’s not great.”
“We’re worried about you.” Mom takes the reins again, and I tuck my lips into my teeth to avoid snarking back. I’m an adult, they don’t need to worry about me all the time.
“We’re worried about the full moon, and how it will impact you," Dad clarifies, and this pauses my defensive thoughts. “It’s in the final waxing quarter, and I know your mom and I are already feeling its pull, which means you must be too.”
Even though my family are feline shifters, they still feel the moon’s call.
Most people think only wolf shifters respond to the moon, likely due to all the fairytales about werewolves, but in reality, we all do, no matter what our inner animal is.
I had forgotten about this; I haven’t had to worry about or keep track of the moon for the first twenty-two years of my life, and even once I started shifting, it has always seemed random.
“Oh," I say. Very eloquent.
“Have you felt it?” Dad presses on, his voice gentle and deep, comforting like a heavy blanket.
“I’m not sure. I mean, it has been kind of getting worse, so… maybe?” I cringe as I say the words, knowing I’m understating it, but also knowing they won’t be happy I’ve kept this much from them.
A tense beat follows and I can clearly picture the look my parents are exchanging.
“We think you should come over and stay with us next week for a couple days around the full moon, just until it starts waning again, then its pull over you should lessen.” My mother cuts straight to the point of the call, and my initial instinct is to deny it, but I also see the value of what they’re saying.
I remember how my siblings had a hard time when they first shifted and felt the moon’s pull, though my brother struggled with it more than my sister.
He was only eight, and the first few months when he found his animal he was unable to stop himself from shifting into the cutest little bobkitten on the days surrounding the full moon.
My experience has been entirely different, obviously, but I do wonder if the moon is what is causing my increasingly erratic and uncontrollable shifts lately.
Then I realize I can’t possibly stay with them, even if I wanted to.
“I can’t," I say with a sigh, and I cut Mom off before she can fully form the protest I hear coming. “I won’t be here. I have to travel for work next week, I’ll be in San Diego.”
Silence.
Neither parent speaks for what feels like ages, until finally my dad breaks it.
“Okay, we’ll look into it and see if there’s anything that can help you control it. I’ve heard CBD oil can help calm the strength of the moon’s pull. I’ll give some of my buddies a call, and your mom will ask around, too. It’ll be okay.”
I nod even though they can’t see it, my throat choking up at the love and care my parents have always shown for their freak of a daughter.
For most of my life, I was an outcast in the shifter community because I had no animal and couldn’t shift.
Despite that, my parents never treated me differently from my siblings and always included me in shifter activities if I wanted to participate.
Once I turned twenty-two and the random shifts started, they barely batted an eye, even though I know they were likely freaking out when not in my presence.
No one, to my knowledge, has ever even heard of a shifter who can shift into multiple different animals, or one who didn’t start shifting until they were an adult.
Let alone one who partially shifts random body parts.
Normally it’s all or nothing, human or animal.
No matter how you look at it, I’m different, but my family never saw that as a bad thing and I love them all the more for it.
Choking out a thank you, I end the call. My mental faculties are officially fried.
I am so done with this day.
Asher
I snag a new bottle of blood from the fridge when I finally get home, Milton twining between my legs and leaving behind a smattering of fine black fur on my ankles and shins.
I’m ready to relax for the weekend before flying out for San Diego on Sunday.
Of course, my thoughts immediately turn to Raya and our time together, as has become my new nighty routine.
I’m still kicking myself for my lack of control and professionalism around Raya.
After running away from, and avoiding, the confounding woman on her first day, I figured the best strategy for the second day would be to interact with her as little as possible.
Following this logic, I arrived to work at the last minute, which already set me on edge.
Even worse, I completely lost my wits as soon as I walked in.
The first thing I saw was her long, wavy hair, and I had an instant urge to bury my nose in it.
The high-necked shirt with a silky bow around her neck didn’t help my instincts, it was like a present wrapped up just for me.
Then she turned those doe eyes on me and I practically swallowed my own tongue trying to get my suddenly dry mouth to form words properly.
She turns me inside out and her mere presence makes me act like a complete idiot.
I know that isn’t an excuse for how I’ve been treating her, but even when I see it happening, I can’t stop it.
It’s as though I’m outside my own body, not in control.
My brain isn’t working properly, and what signals it does manage to send don’t seem to be received by the rest of my body.
I did my best throughout that meeting to be respectful of her position and role, which pretty much meant listening intently and avoiding looking at her.
I didn’t trust my own eyes not to devour her and make a fool of myself in front of everyone.
When I sensed her heart rate randomly spike though, I couldn’t help meeting her wide-eyed gaze.
I’ve replayed that moment over and over, but I still can’t figure out what it was I saw there.
Fear? Embarrassment? She hadn’t even started speaking yet, so I wasn’t sure what the deal was, though I have a suspicion it may have been another shift.
I’ve come to realize she isn’t able to control them, which I’m also pretty sure isn’t normal for a shifter.
Despite my ongoing curiosity and desire to help, I haven’t wanted to ask and inadvertently make things worse.
Knowing me, it would come out all wrong, and I’d end up insulting or hurting her.
That hasn’t stopped my brain from circling around it.
My inner vampire senses weakness, but all I see in her is strength.
I can’t fathom how she deals with her situation in a professional setting day in and day out, all while blinding the world around her with her smile.
I suspect most people would crumble under that stress.
I managed to make it to the end of the week without making too much of an ass of myself in front of her, although she might think differently.
She’s picking up everything at work more quickly than I expected, especially considering she’s basically onboarding herself, and I’ve been impressed by how much she’s absorbing.
I wince when I remember the confused look that had flashed across her face when I tried to hold in an impressed smile during one of our one-on-one meetings; I fear it came out as a cringe instead and probably gave her the wrong impression.
I swipe a hand down my face when my mind replays what happened shortly after that.
She’d startled me with a sudden shift, unexpectedly sprouting a wolf nose in the middle of her face.
My stupid, stupid brain, and even more stupid mouth, blurted out the question that’s been circling in my head all week—isn’t there anything she can do about it?
Her reaction was piercing. It felt like I had stabbed myself in the chest when I saw the shock and hurt etched into the lines of her face, because of course not. Obviously, if there was something she could do, she would be doing it, right?
I didn’t expect her to storm out, although admittedly, I didn’t think the comment through before I said it.
And it was quite offensive, so I don’t blame her for leaving.
My face heats with embarrassment alongside the anger at myself for creating such a situation in the first place.
When she didn’t return after an hour, I checked in with Noemi, who informed me Raya was working from home the rest of the day.
I guess she told Noemi she needed a quiet space so she could focus and get caught up on what she’s been given so far.
Shaking my head at my abysmal behavior, I resolve to do better, and take a swig straight from the bottle.
This upcoming trip will be a good opportunity to show her who I truly am, not the idiotic asshole I’ve been coming across as.
Pulling up my personal laptop, I speculate that an online search to learn more about the basics of shifters is a good place to start.
Mainly so I can avoid stepping in my own shit in the future.
I’m not used to being around shifters to begin with, and especially not one as unique as Raya.
She’s determined, hard working, and surprisingly good at her job despite being thrown into the deep end and told to swim.
She’s kind to everyone she meets and always has a smile at the ready, although that seems to no longer be the case when it comes to me.
I’m sure my contradictory attitude helped create this icy wall between us, and I wish I could dissolve it.
Maybe spending a few days together outside of the office will give us the change of perspective needed to bridge this gap. I feel almost desperate for her warmth and radiance, and at this point all I can do is hope she will give me a second—or hundredth—chance to show her who I am.
My eyes devour every article I can find on shifter transformation.
Anything that seems like it might remotely be a valid source.
I take it all in and commit as much as I can to memory.
I don’t know what help I can be with this information, as I’m sure she knows more about her own community than I can hope to read online, but I’m desperate and don’t know what else to do.
I suppose it makes me feel useful, closer to her in a way that feels otherwise impossible.
When this thought crosses my mind, I figure that’s my cue to stop. I’m losing sight of things and closer to her is not what either of us needs.
Clicking out of the shifter searches, I turn to trip planning and look up blood banks in San Diego.
It doesn’t feel good to not know where your next meal is coming from, so I like to be prepared and have a couple options already saved to my phone before I travel somewhere new.
Finding one within walking distance of the hotel, and another a few blocks down from the convention center, I feel more prepared and close my laptop right as my phone chimes from the kitchen with an incoming text.
Having finished the current bottle of blood, which was nowhere near as good as the first one I had from this place, I take it into the kitchen. I quickly rinse it in the sink before rescuing my phone from Milton’s paws which are batting it toward the edge of the counter.
I roll my eyes and mentally brace myself when I see it’s a text from my cousin, Chadwick.
When the message opens to a photo, no text included, just a professional shot of said cousin side by side with my parents at a black tie event, a frown pulls at my lips and I delete it. I have no desire to see his name, face, or those of my parents on my phone.
Although I ignore the message and don’t reply, it still sits with me.
A heavy, murky feeling in my chest. My cousin wants to take my place in the family business; he wants to be the heir my parents wish I would be, and honestly, I’m okay with that.
Chadwick would be much better suited to the role anyway, but that doesn’t eliminate the desire for acceptance, or the despair that my family is past redeeming.
I’m not cut out for the ruthlessness of the Walton family, and unless they change their heinous ways, give up their “traditions”, I have no desire to be associated with them.
There’s a reason I haven’t been photographed at any events with them in recent years, just as there’s a reason I haven’t accepted any calls, or responded to any of the many emails from my parents, either.
I want nothing to do with them, their black market blood, or their dirty money.
Chadwick can have at it.