5. An Unusual Case
FIVE
AN UNUSUAL CASE
Dressing one’s human self is about more than just fashion—it’s a balance of comfort, style, and the occasional need for discretion.
Natural fibers such as cotton and wool are ideal, as they breathe and won’t tear during near-shifts. Avoid tight clothing and opt for pieces with stretch, offering flexibility when your instincts take over.
Neutral tones help you blend in, while bold colors add a confident flair. A well-dressed shifter adapts to every form without losing his gentlemanly charm.
–EXCERPT FROM THE METAMORPHIC MAN: A GENTLEMAN SHAPESHIFTER’S GUIDE TO CULTURED CONDUCT
Arthur Hart set his brown leather briefcase down on the polished walnut dining room table of his modest Boston row house.
The table, which also served as Arthur Hart’s home office, was the scene of a crime.
An empty pizza container lay open, grease stains soaking through the ridged cardboard.
Two unwashed goblets with the dried remains of what looked like wine sat on the surface sans coasters.
There were at least three half-drunk water bottles scattered about as well.
Some of these had surely left rings. There was also a half-consumed bag of popcorn, some sticky candy wrappers, and a stack of hot-sauce smeared plates.
It was hard to put a time stamp on any of it.
It was all recent. He’d been gone less than twenty-four hours.
Typical teen carnage.
There were worse things than pizza boxes and dirty dishes, though.
Arthur was acutely aware that coming home to a spotless but empty house every single night was what he had to look forward to in the not-too-distant future.
The anticipation of this loneliness made him so much more tolerant of Rosie’s mess.
Gemini, his daughter’s oversized white Persian cat, jumped up onto the table, contributing some cat fur to the chaos.
He still wasn’t used to keeping a pet. Keeping a pet just wasn’t a common practice in shifter homes.
But the cat had been a birthday gift to his daughter from Pearl Chan, Rosie’s former babysitter.
Both she and Rosie had insisted that this particular cat was special and “meant for her.” Pearl had wisely stopped just short of using the term “familiar” which would have been offensive, as well as a deal breaker.
Only witches and Ordinaries enslaved animals that way.
Arthur hadn’t been able to say no to either of them.
Perhaps he was too permissive of a parent.
He frequently vacillated between the certainty that he was too permissive, or too strict.
Since he didn’t have any other single dad friends to compare notes with, it was impossible to say.
He simply tried his best and prayed it would be enough.
That had better not be wine in those glasses
Arthur lifted one of the goblets to his nose and sniffed. Berry juice. Non-alcoholic. Thank the gods for that.
Gemini meowed plaintively at him. He could see that her food bowl needed to be replenished. This worried him a bit. It wasn’t like Rosie to neglect her cat.
“Rosie? Are you home?”
No answer. All the lights were off. She wasn’t there.
And she hadn’t left a note. He’d also had no phone messages from Rosie during his quick trip to Baltimore.
His answering machine was empty save for two missed calls from Buffalo Westabrook.
Arthur assumed that the calls were related to the case he had just argued in the Maryland courts.
Even though the wealthy philanthropist had completely cut magic out of his own life and moved away from the magical community, Buffalo still looked after those in need.
Arthur hated the term “benefactor” so he usually told people the Buffalo was “an old friend of the family” when asked about their personal connection.
Today, Buffalo had paid Arthur to defend an innocent shifter accused of stealing expensive car parts from an Ordinary auto shop. Things had gone well. The court dismissed the case after Arthur provided evidence of fraud committed by the owner.
Although Buffalo’s charity cases added to Arthur’s workload, he never turned them down.
The extra cash was also helpful. He loved being a public defender, but the pay was never enough.
Some months, he could barely make ends meet.
His work left him no time for a social life.
It was just work, sleep, defending Buffalo’s innocents, and Rosie.
Arthur decided he would listen to Buffalo’s messages later. After he caught up with Rosie. Wherever she was.
It wasn’t that late yet. He’d wait for her to come home in her own due time. Rosie was headstrong and could be a slob, but she wasn’t stupid. He would not be that overbearing dad.
He deposited the dirty dishes in the sink and immediately reconsidered. It was quickly growing dark outside. He’d feel so much better if he knew where she was.
Finally he settled on a compromise with himself.
If she wasn’t home in an hour, he’d let himself worry.
Perhaps he’d even head over to Primrose Court himself.
For now, though, he’d choose to have faith that all was well.
If he knew his daughter, she was probably hanging around at the Mudpuddle Bookshop and Cafe, three dungeon levels deep into a role playing game with her magical friends.
Without a doubt, her friends would be assisting her in coming up with arguments about why she should be permitted to go to school in the magical neighborhood.
Life was so unfair. Particularly for teenage girls.
Arthur pulled a bottle of red wine out from the small wooden rack beneath the kitchen counter, uncorked it, and poured himself a glass. He’d earned it.
He sat down on his worn green corduroy sofa and closed his eyes. It had been a long day, full of uncertainties, but in the end he’d prevailed. He imagined the cozy homecoming scene back in Baltimore—the young fox shifter celebrating with his pretty wife and their triplet kits.
Arthur loosened his foulard-print tie and unlinked his cufflinks. He removed his jacket and slung it over the back of the couch. He bent forward to untie his wing-tipped oxfords before slipping them off. It felt nice to remove his uniform.
As a shifter, Arthur was an outlier.
Most shifters dressed in janitorial gray or security guard blues.
A fair number wore prison jumpsuit orange.
What those shifters had in common was that they wore uniforms to avoid being noticed.
They used clothing as camouflage, hoping to disappear.
Arthur was the opposite. He was unapologetically impossible to ignore.
In both human and stag form, he always presented himself as a noble, handsome beast. He always dressed for success.
He wasn’t vain or foppish. Fashion was just another weapon in his arsenal.
He deployed it out of a sense of duty to his clients.
Arthur knew his clients needed all the help they could get.
His striking appearance worked to his client’s advantage in both magical and Ordinary courtrooms. Unlike many of his peers, Arthur Hart also had no shame about being a shifter.
He was just as proud of his magical heritage as he was of his own academic accomplishments. He wasn’t afraid of being seen.
Today was no exception. Even though he’d had to scramble to accommodate Buffalo’s request, Arthur had taken the time to pack a fresh razor so he could shave before court.
He’d dressed in a clean, pressed, and flawlessly tailored suit.
He took the time to polish his shoes and organize his briefcase.
The only indications of his feral nature were the amber shards of firelight in his eyes and the curly forelock of hair that flopped forward in his face at present.
Even after several months without a shift, these two features refused to be tamed.
He swirled his wine in the glass and considered what he wanted to do.
Pretty soon, all his evenings would be like this.
Would he try dating again? He dismissed the thought immediately.
Dating services for shifters didn’t exist, and even if they did, he wasn’t sure he’d be interested.
He’d had a terrible experience with Rosie’s mom.
Dating an Ordinary, or worse, a witch, was out of the question.
This left nothing but fae, who everyone knew were fine for passionate flings, but terrible at long-term relationships.
Just as he raised the wine to his lips, the oversized watch on Arthur’s right wrist began to vibrate and glow like the sun.
Orange alerts were extremely uncommon. He set the wine glass down on the rustic iron and glass coffee table, not even bothering to use a coaster.
Carefully, Arthur rotated the device to rest against his pulse point.
Telepathic watches, or T-watches as they were called in magical circles, were a recent development.
They looked similar to the oversized watches that Ordinaries wore.
But instead of simple Ordinary technology, T-watches used magical algorithms to harness the power of telepathy.
Regardless of inborn abilities, this allowed the wearers to share their thoughts or feelings, simply by touching the screen.
It was ingenious, but not without issues.
The most problematic being the lack of privacy.
Private thoughts and feelings were constantly being broadcast to the entire local network by accident. Usually by older members of the community who were less adept with new technology.
For this reason, Arthur thought it prudent to stick to more Ordinary forms of communication. He used the watch infrequently. He only wore it in case Rosie wanted to reach him this way.
The orange alert hadn’t come from his daughter, though. It was a public announcement, a warning about a generalized threat. The T-watch flashed blue, then green, as he unlocked it with his left thumb against the screen.