Second Nature (43 page)

"Jorie?" her mother asked. "You still there?"

One long arm reached out and nudged her. "Answer," Griffin whispered.

Jorie flinched and tightened her grip on the cell phone. "Yes. Sorry, Mom. W-what did you just say?" She was almost sure that she had misinterpreted her mother's words.
She can't possibly mean what I think she means, can she? She wouldn't be so calm if she thought I was in a relationship with a woman.

"I thought that might be the reason why you never connected with any of the men you dated," Helen said. She sounded calm, not like a mother who was flipping out over the fact that her daughter might be gay.

Oh, yeah, that's what I thought too.
When she had realized she was gay, she had thought that was the reason why she had never found a true connection and never experienced emotional intimacy with a man. She had thought it would be different with a woman, but it hadn't been — not in the way she had expected, at least. Disappointed and confused, she had decided to be on her own for a while. "It's not that easy," she said, still not recovered from the shock that her mother had just guessed her sexual orientation — and wasn't crying or yelling.

"So you're not... gay?" Helen asked. Hope vibrated in her voice, but also confusion, as if Helen was wondering what else could be "wrong" with her daughter, then.

Jorie hesitated. She was at a crossroad. If she told her mother the truth, there would be no going back, and her life was in enough of an upheaval as it was. It would disappoint her mother, and she didn't want that.
But on the other hand, is it better to add to all the lies?
she asked herself. There was too much deception going on in her life anyway.
Not telling her was one thing, but lying to her? And if push comes to shove, having that lie be the last thing I say to her? No, I think I owe her the truth, as painful as that might be for both of us.
"No," she said. "I mean... yes, I am gay."

Seconds of silence stretched into an eternity for Jorie. Then Helen asked, "Why did you never tell me?" Hurt tinged her voice.

Griffin's presence was really becoming uncomfortable now. Even under the best of circumstances, Jorie wasn't a big fan of emotional conversations, but having Griffin witness it — or at least one side of it — was worse. "I don't know, Mom. It's not like there was ever much to tell, you know? It never played a big role in my life."

"Never played a big role?" Helen repeated. "You have a girlfriend, and you thought it necessary to introduce her to me as just a friend. You could have told me, you know?"

Griffin? She's talking about Griffin?
A bitter snort escaped. Griffin was as far from a girlfriend as one could get. "She's not my girlfriend," Jorie said, rubbing her temples. Her headache was back.

The easy chair scraped over the floor as Griffin slid it closer to the bed. If she suspected that they were talking about her, it didn't make her uncomfortable. She looked curious and not as if she was about to leave the room.

Jorie sent her an annoyed glance.
Didn't anyone ever tell her that curiosity killed the cat?

"She's not?" Helen asked. Her voice alternated between relief and disappointment.

Jorie's feeling of being caught in an absurd nightmare intensified. Her whole world was being turned upside down, including her assumptions about her own mother. She had been so sure that her coming out would be a huge disappointment to her mother. Without seeing Helen's face, her eyes, she still couldn't be sure that Helen wasn't just hiding how upset she really was, and she didn't want to have this conversation with Griffin listening to every word she said. "Mom, how about we talk about this next time you come to visit me? It'll give both of us some time to cool down and talk more calmly." Jorie shoved back the thought that there might never be a next time. She couldn't allow herself to start thinking like that. So far, Griffin hadn't killed her and had even seemed concerned when Leigh had hurt her. There had to be a reason for it. If she could figure out why, she could use it to her advantage.

"I am calm," Helen said. "I think a part of me has waited for this conversation for the last ten years."

"Ten years?" Jorie's eyes widened in disbelief. "Even I didn't have the slightest clue ten years ago. How could you tell?"
Is it possible that Mom deciphered the Japanese gaydar instructions before I did?

"I just... knew," Helen said softly. "There has always been something different about you, even as a child. I just couldn't figure out what it was back then."

Jorie knew she shared the feeling of being different with many other lesbians while growing up. But the more experiences she had and the more gay people she met, the more she realized that being gay was not really what set her apart and isolated her from other people.

"We'll talk about it when we see each other," Helen said when Jorie didn't answer.

If we see each other.
The fearful thought echoed through Jorie's mind. There was a very real possibility that she would never see her mother again. "Okay," she choked out because she knew her mother was waiting for a reply. Her voice sounded shaky and emotional in her own ears, so she kept it short. "Bye, Mom."

"Bye," Helen answered. "And Jorie...?"

"Yes?" Jorie couldn't wait to get off the phone and to get Griffin out of the room. She needed to get herself back together in private.

"I love you, no matter what," Helen said and ended the call without waiting for an answer.

I didn't get a chance to say it back!
She wanted to call her mother again, just to tell her, but knew that letting herself be overwhelmed by emotions would only put her mother in danger. She could only hope that she would get another chance in the future. Squeezing her eyes shut, she banned the outside world from her consciousness. She kept holding the cell phone to her ear in an attempt to feel close to her mother for just a few moments longer before she faced the harsh reality again.

When Jorie opened her eyes, Griffin was watching her with the hypnotic, steadfast gaze of a predator. Jorie handed back the cell phone without comment and turned away from Griffin, facing the wall. She hoped, Griffin would get the hint and leave her alone for a while.

A gentle clearing of her throat announced that Griffin was still there. "Your mother is pretty cool — for a human. I'm glad for you that she took it so well," Griffin said, sounding like the sincere friend Jorie had thought her to be. "I know you were worried."

Jorie didn't answer.
She's right, though. Mom is pretty cool. I never thought she would react like this. I really thought she would cry and wear black for at least a year. I completely misjudged her. Seems I do a lot of that lately.
She bitterly looked at Griffin.

"I'm sorry your mother had to find out like this. I'm sure that wasn't the kind of coming out you imagined." Griffin's regret seemed genuine, but Jorie refused to let herself be fooled again so easily.

"So she seriously thought we're together, huh?" Griffin said when silence was Jorie's only answer.

She could hear Mom's side of the conversation? What else can these shape-shifters do? They're incredibly strong and unbelievably fast; they have superhearing, and I think Leigh smelled my presence in the forest.
The shape-shifters were unbeatable enemies. Fear and hopelessness threatened to overwhelm her, then transformed to anger. Jorie rolled back around and pushed herself up on one arm to glare at Griffin.
Is she now making fun of my private life on top of everything else she has done to me? Is this all just one big joke to her?
"You think that's funny?" she asked through clenched teeth. "You tricked my mother into liking you, and if I survive all of this, I will be the bad guy who will have to explain to my mom why I don't want anything to do with you anymore." Not that this was the worst of her problems, but at least it allowed her to ignore what else could happen to her.

Griffin shrugged. "You could just tell her I rejected you because you're not my type. Just don't tell her it's because I don't date humans," she said with a timid grin.

Is this her way of trying to get me to trust her again, like she told Leigh?
Jorie wondered.
How can she believe I would be in the mood to joke around in a situation like this? Is this some lame-ass Wrasa attempt to cheer me up?
If it was, it didn't work. All it did was piss her off. "You're not my type either, thank you very much," she curtly answered.

"Oh, you like your women more on the skinny side?" She slid her hands up her strong thighs and her solid torso. Griffin's smile didn't reach her eyes.

Part of Jorie realized her lame attempts at humor were probably just a sign that Griffin didn't know how to deal with the chaos of emotions that swirled between them, but a bigger part of her didn't care about the helplessness in Griffin's eyes.

"I like them more on the honest side," Jorie said. "Not trying to betray and kill me is a big plus too. Now get out and leave me alone!" She wanted — needed — to be alone for a while to get herself back under control. Her nerves were frazzled, and she felt as if she would fall apart any second. She didn't want to do it in front of Griffin.

Griffin's smile vanished. She gave up her attempts to lighten the mood. Her eyes lowered guiltily. "I did what I had to do. It was nothing personal."

"Not personal?" Jorie echoed. "Excuse me, but I take someone trying to kill me very personal."

Griffin ducked her head and studied her feet.

Was that true remorse, or was Griffin still trying to trick her? Jorie forced down her anger, knowing it wouldn't help her to think more clearly. She repeated in her head what Griffin had said. "You said you did what you had to do — past tense? Does this mean you don't have to kill me anymore?"

Griffin's silence was answer enough.

Her orders are still the same. She still has to kill me, so why isn't she doing it? Why bring me to her family?
The situation was more complicated than she had thought.

"It wasn't personal," Griffin said. "Not for me." The whiskey-colored eyes looked honest, but Jorie didn't know whether she could trust her own judgment when it came to Griffin anymore.

"Then why do you want me dead?" Jorie asked. Not understanding why this was happening to her was one of the worst things about this situation.

"I told you before that I don't want you dead." Griffin's voice was full of conviction.

"But someone does, and you work for them," Jorie said. "Why did they tell you to kill me?"

"I'll tell you if you tell me who or what inspired you to write a book about shape-shifters," Griffin said. Her steadfast gaze rested on Jorie, not missing any of her gestures or reactions.

This is about my book? Something about it must have scared or angered them bad enough to want to kill me. Did I insult them by getting something wrong... or did I get things a little too right for their liking?
With all the other shape-shifter novels out there, some of them horribly stereotypical and clichéd, Jorie concluded that it had to be the latter.
So some of the things that I wrote about my shape-shifters are true about the Wrasa too. Maybe enough to make them think I know about their existence.
"Do you really think I am stupid enough to just give up my source of inspiration? If I do, what keeps you from killing me?" Her knowledge — or whatever the Wrasa thought she knew — was her only bargaining chip, and she wasn't giving it up just because Griffin made empty promises.

"Listen, Jorie." Griffin smoothly unfolded her large body from the easy chair and crouched down in front of the bed. "I know I destroyed whatever trust you had in me, and I know you have no reason to believe me, but I really don't want to kill you. I'm doing everything I can to find a way to save your life. But I need your help. I need your trust."

It wasn't that easy for Jorie. She had given Griffin her trust once, and she was determined not to make that mistake again. "You're right — I don't believe you. And why should I? You disarmed my alarm system with a code I never gave you; you sneaked into my bedroom at night with a knife, and —"

"Where was the knife when you first saw it?" Griffin interrupted.

"What?"

"When you woke up and saw the knife... where was it?"

In her mind's eye, Jorie saw those terrifying moments again. "It was on the floor," she answered, not knowing what it meant and where Griffin was going with this.

"Exactly. If I wanted to go through with killing you, the knife would have been in my hand," Griffin said.

"You really think humans are stupid, don't you?" Anger once again replaced fear, and Jorie stared down at Griffin from just inches away.

Griffin blinked. "What?"

"You're insulting my intelligence if you think I'm going to believe that the knife being on the floor means you weren't there to harm me," Jorie said. "Maybe you dropped the knife because I suddenly woke up and surprised you. That doesn't prove that you wouldn't have killed me had I woken up just a second later."

One of Griffin's rust-colored eyebrows arched. "You've seen Leigh as she hunted you down, and you saw me fight with Leigh. You saw how dangerous we Wrasa can be, how determined when we're focused on our prey. Do you really think you waking up would distract or scare me into dropping the knife?" She shook her head, answering her own question when Jorie remained silent. "It wouldn't. I dropped the knife because I didn't want to kill you."

"You sneaked into my bedroom in the middle of the night with a knife. Why else would you do that if you didn't want to kill me?" There was no other explanation for Jorie.

Griffin rubbed her ear. "I was sent to kill you, yes. But I couldn't do it. I couldn't just slit your throat while you slept, the cat purring next to you because he thought I'm a friend. I couldn't do it."

The intensity of Griffin's words and her gaze sent a shiver through Jorie. She wanted to believe it. She wanted to believe that Griffin wasn't her enemy, that Griffin would help her survive, but trusting only herself had worked for Jorie all her life, and it was the safest option now. "If you're on my side, why don't you just let me go?" Jorie asked. Being in this unfamiliar little town that was probably full of shape-shifters felt like a prison, a deadly trap.