Black Beast (15 page)

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Authors: Nenia Campbell

Tags: #Science Fiction & Fantasy, #Paranormal & Urban, #Teen & Young Adult, #shapechange, #shiftershaper, #shapeshifter paranormal, #shape change, #shape changers, #witches and vampires, #shape changing, #shape shift, #Paranormal, #Shape Shifter, #witch clan, #shapechanger, #Witch, #witch council, #Witches, #shape changer, #Fantasy, #witches and magic, #urban fantasy

BOOK: Black Beast
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She wasn't safe. Not as long as he was still out there. Waiting. Watching.

 

Her mood was black as she walked out of the school cafeteria. There was a scowl on her face and a cup of coffee in her hand. She didn't like eating with the other humans. The smell of so many of them, concentrated all in one place, made her feel like a lion at a watering hole full of gazelles. People scattered out of her way, dissolving into murmurs the moment her back turned.

 

Humans had strict ideas about what was normal and what wasn't. She wasn't, and they went out of their way to make her aware that they knew—and they didn't like it. Her senses, so perfect for hunting, gave her a predatory dominance that humans often mistook for cockiness.

 

“I haven't seen her so pissed since she punched that guy in the nose for copping a feel.”

 

“I'd risk a trip to the ER if it meant I got to tap that ass.”

 

Sometimes, they mistook it for sexual prowess, as well.

 

She hadn't any sexual experience, but it wouldn't be any of their business even if she had.

 

Sex was difficult for shape-shifters. Many used it, and abused it, as a means of establishing power—especially the shape-shifters with heavily ingrained pack instincts. A quick and brutal fuck from behind usually served as an effective reminder of where you stood in the pack hierarchy.

 

It was rape, but many of them didn't see it that way. Not even the victims. The alphas brainwashed their packs so thoroughly, it almost never came up. And when it did, those who protested were often killed.

 

As an example. As a warning.

 

Intimacy was a terrifying concept to Catherine. It meant putting yourself in a position where you were the submissive, opening yourself up to the possibility of pain and hurt. Intimacy meant trust. It meant lying on your back with your belly exposed, and having faith that you wouldn't be killed.

 

To her, it meant being Prey.

 

She supposed it could be tolerable, or even pleasurable, if you found the right person, but so far that hadn't happened, yet.
Not even close.

 

The coffee scalded her throat like hot tar. She swallowed, and let her eyes sweep the room. She found the speaker and gave him a look so cutting she swore he was about to piss his pants.

 

“Looks like you might be paying a visit to the ER after all, Jeff.”

 

“Shut up, man.” The human Jeff looked frightened, chastened. No lasting change, that. He'd be back to normal in a few hours. Back to his misogynistic status quo. Humans. For all that they pretended to be civilized, they were no better than beasts at heart.

 

Stupid humans, what a waste of her time.

 

Chapter Five

 
 

A foul smell wafted out of the biology classroom. It was the sour, pickled tang of death.

 

Catherine immediately knew that today's lesson plan was going to involve her trying not to breathe through her nose. Those were always the winners. Like the urine analysis lab that had sent Predator into territorial overdrive. That had been one of the worst days ever.

 

While running out of the classroom, on the pretense of being about to throw up, she'd bumped into a guy who was waiting in line for the test that would measure his white blood-cell count, and he'd upended most of his cup of urine over a girl named Bonnie Sung. She'd started cursing at Catherine, who, egged on by her hyperactive Predator, snidely told the other girl that urine was sterile, and that she probably got more germs from tonguing David Tran in the hallways between classes. This seemed to make Bonnie think that Catherine had done it on purpose.

 

Calling her a “pisser” had also probably been in poor taste. Especially since the nickname had kind of stuck. Something that Bonnie “Pisser” Sung did not take kindly to; she did everything in her power to remind Catherine of this daily. Even though she was no longer dating David, she was still one of the most popular girls in the school. Catherine's already precarious social standing had taken a major hit from Bonnie's smear campaign, especially since most of what she said was true.

 

The other early birds were milling around in various slouching postures. Most of them looked bored or anxious. Only one other student's face mirrored her discomfort.

 

David Tran.

 

He met her eyes—the briefest flash of ebony—and then glanced away.

 

The Trans had been friends of her parents. David and Catherine had played together as children. Endless games of 'Slayers and Shifters.' Catherine always wanted to be the Slayer because it meant taking a stick (which was supposed to be a silver dagger) and pretending to stab him through the heart with it. Even as a child, she preferred being the hunter, not the hunted.

 

There were only a few old shifter families left, and even fewer Glamors, so they tended to be cliquish. Catherine's family had emigrated from England about two hundred years ago. Although David's family was of Vietnamese ancestry they had moved from China, and their emigration had been far more recent.

 

Until recently, China was one of the safer countries for shape-shifters to live in; animal spirits were considered auspicious, so if a shape-shifter was seen in animal form, it was a sign of good luck. And because meddling with the affairs of the gods was seen as tempting fate, the people of the republic did not ask questions.

 

Westernization had changed that.

 

Their families had been inseparable. They would go to Chinatown in San Francisco to see the Chinese New Year. And every summer, David and his family would split the cost of a beach house with Catherine's. Until they were about twelve-years-old, they even shared the same room. Some of her fondest memories were of those lazy August afternoons, running on the beach with David in her wake, exploring the caves etched into sandy faces of the dunes, gathering seashells.

 

But the Trans stopped feeling comfortable around her when her fifteenth birthday rolled around and she still hadn't settled. All powers have a system of checks-and-balances, and shape-shifting was no exception. Shortly after puberty, shape-shifters lost the ability to Change into animals at will, settling into one particular animal, which was driven partly by experience, and partly by genetics. At least, you were supposed to. Catherine…well, hadn't.

 

And she became persona non grata as far as the Trans were concerned.

 

They blew her parents off. Politely, at first. The Trans were nothing if not polite. But then the excuses began piling up as they refused invitations and stopped taking the Pierces' calls. “Sorry, we're visiting relatives.” Or, “Sorry, David has too much homework.” After several weeks of this, the Trans turned nasty. “Sorry, we don't want David hanging out with that freak.”

 

It had been such a cutting blow. As if she weren't sensitive enough about being different already. Now she couldn't even be 'normal' among her own kind.

 

The 'freak' could barely curb her enthusiasm when she discovered she had double blocks of biology with David every Monday and Thursday. Intangible reminders just weren't enough.

 

She finished off the coffee from the cafeteria, crumpling the Styrofoam cup in her fist. It had been three years. She should be used to this by now. Used to being different.

 

Used to being a freak.

 

But David's presence kept catching her off guard. First at the beginning of the year, and again, in the here and now. For several hours, Catherine had forgotten all about David. Familial grudges faded into the pale when one was busy running for one's life. Now the pain of that betrayal burned into her anew with the slow cruelty of silver.

 

She dumped her bag on the ground and shut her eyes.

 

“Catherine?”

 

Chase's whiny, nasal voice was like a cheese grater on her eardrums. She didn't open her eyes. “What?”

 

“Uh, I was just wondering if you had any news about the book?”

 

When she opened her eyes, it was to glare at him. “Chase,” she said, keeping her voice deliberately slow, “it is one-fifty P.M. on a Monday. My shift doesn't start for another twenty-five hours.”

 

“I just thought that, uh, maybe…you know…with e-mail.”

 

“I don't do work when I'm off the clock.” Catherine angled her body away from him, so she wouldn't have to look at him. “Check back Tuesday. Until then, leave me the fuck alone.”

 

Chase left, looking angry and humiliated. A few people whispered and snickered, speculating about the nature of his and Catherine's relationship, talking about how pathetic he was. The usual high school indignities. Catherine could care less about hurting the little dweeb's feelings. He was going to get her in trouble, she was sure of it, and trouble was one thing she had in spades.

 

David was looking at her again. This time, she swore she caught him smirking. He quickly composed his face, but shape-shifters were adept at picking up on micro-expressions. Their continued survival depended on it.

 

Catherine turned her glare on him, full-force. How dare he mock her pain. Did he think she enjoyed being branded as a freak, an untouchable? She injected a bit of Predator into her stare even though this was technically a violation of the First Rule. His smile disappeared. His ears turned pink under her sullen inspection. And though it meant conceding dominance, to a female, no less, he turned his head and looked away.

 

His willingness surprised Catherine. David had been a precocious child. Always needing to prove himself. Diving the deepest, running the fastest, climbing the highest, being the smartest. He lived a life of superlatives. Had he always been this quiet, this passive?

 

Or was he just better at hiding his true nature now?

 

She tried to remember the conversations they'd had together, as children and as preteens. She knew some of them had been surprisingly deep—or at least, they'd felt that way at the time—but Catherine found she couldn't call forth a single word. They'd all burned away to ash on the wind.

 

Annoyed, she glanced down at her watch. Only eight-fifteen. Another fifteen minutes to go. This must be what being in limbo felt like. And the teachers wondered about her proclivity for tardiness. She looked back up from her watch just in time to see David's eyes dart away from her again. This time, he had definitely been smirking. Hadn't even bothered to hide it, for fuck's sake. What was his problem? He'd as good as admitted that she was the victor. That should have ended it. He wasn't allowed to behave this way. Not unless he wanted a fight.

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