Shift happens, p.9
Shift Happens, page 9
"Because I'm gay?" Before Angela could answer he spoke again. "I'm not saying you're doing the wrong thing. I'm just saying it throws off the models."
Angela sighed. "Maybe it's time to focus a little more on the people and less on the models."
He hummed what might have been an acknowledgement of her words and then lapsed back into silence.
After the side-eye from the uniformed guard at the gate down the hill, it wasn't a surprise that all the cars she passed on the street as she drove the winding road up cost more than her annual salary. "We trade off houses every meeting," she told Benson as she parked on the street a few houses away from their destination. "I haven't been up here before." Perfectly groomed lawns were designed to showcase different aspects of the houses, but after a while the same choices of trees and shrubs, all surrounded by emerald green grass, grew monotonous. Nobody was on the pristine sidewalks. It was as if someone had planned the perfect community and forgotten to include any people.
He got out of the car and waited for her on the sidewalk. "You said this was a book club?"
"Nominally." Angela locked her tactical belt in the trunk of the car. The neighbors peeking from behind curtains would still know she was MPD, but at least this way it looked like she was just a participant in the group. "There's a book and sometimes people have read it and usually we talk about things that are at least related to it, but mostly it's just an excuse to meet and eat cookies and drink wine. Although," she added as she thought about it, "there may be more people who have read the book this week. It's a Regency romance, and those usually get read more than the non-fiction selections." She thought about the last few times the group had discussed books in the genre. "It might get a little heated."
"About what? The hero's eye color?"
Angela felt a predatory grin pull up the corners of her mouth. "Just for that, you're on your own." Ignoring his confusion, she knocked on the door.
Inside the living room ten people, mostly women, had already staked out places, wine glasses and plates in hand. "What a lovely home," Angela told Geraldine, the woman whose house they were using. That was her standard phrase, but in this case it was also true. Hopefully it would still be true after they all left. The cream-colored carpet, white couches, and dainty accent pieces gave the impression that no human had ever entered the space. Angela hoped Geraldine wasn't serving red wine.
After introducing Benson to the group as a colleague, she put a few cookies on a plate, basing her selection of meringues entirely on how likely they were not to leave a stain on the furniture if she dropped one. She sat down on the couch next to the only person she didn't recognize, a young woman with purple and black hair wearing pink scrubs with cartoon rabbits. "Hi, you must be Lourdes. I'm Angela Jones." Since her files listed the woman's other form as a white deer with a subtype of lampong, Angela assumed she at least had relatives from the Philippines.
As they made small talk — Lourdes was a nurse in a physical rehabilitation practice and she owned two cats — Angela switched to her other sight. The other woman's magical core was mostly balanced, which made her likely one of Matt's previous clients, not Caleb's, but the intertwining of the magical strands seemed more complicated than Angela expected, as if someone had tried to create a form with smooth curves when all they could use was right angles. Even as she watched, the form swirled in one direction then immediately pulled back into its former orientation. Angela couldn't imagine the amount of effort it would take to keep the magical core in a shape that it didn't naturally go into. "Why—" Her quiet question was cut off as Geraldine clapped her hands. "Let's talk later," Angela whispered, then turned toward their host.
Secure in her own environment, Geraldine had traded in her usual sweater and slacks for a sleeveless silk blouse and an asymmetric silk skirt. The new outfit seemed a more personal choice, and it also left the scars on her neck visible. Angela had known that violence had led to Geraldine's first shift into her turtle form, but this was the first time she'd seen the physical evidence.
"So, I guess I'm supposed to open the discussion by explaining why I chose this book. I guess the answer is that I wanted something a little lighter than the last one."
Everyone's eyes drifted to Constance, whose most recent choice had been a dry recounting of struggles over water use rights in a California valley spanning fifty years, with a few characters thrown in to qualify it as fiction. Angela had skimmed the last two-thirds in hopes of finding out how one particular character died, but unfortunately he'd made it to the end. If Constance picked the sequel the next time it was her turn to host, Angela planned on skipping the book completely and she thought she wasn't alone in that plan.
"In any case," Geraldine continued, "I've read other things from this author and this book was on my to-be-read pile. So… any initial thoughts?"
After a few seconds of silence, Piper made a face. "The whole alpha male thing irritated me."
Jen, sitting on the couch next to her pulled away. "What? How can you not love a guy that repeatedly ignores everything the woman says?"
Piper rolled her eyes. "He doesn't even like her. He's just in lust with her."
Jen nodded. "He's a total dick twitcher."
Piper snorted, leaving an opening for Courtney's, "He's a what?"
Jen turned her face to Courtney and spoke clearly so the other woman could read her lips if her hearing aids didn't do the job. "A dick twitcher. It's a term we came up with last year for all those guys in romances who see the woman and their dick twitches."
Courtney's eyebrows went up. "Thank you. Yes, that's exactly what he is. Is that even possible?"
All eyes turned to Joe, who had the distinction of being one of the few men and a doctor even if he was a podiatrist. He pushed his wire-rimmed glasses up. "I think it’s unlikely. There are no muscles in the penis."
Geraldine was holding a hand over her mouth. "I pictured it as a sort of romance dowsing rod, pulling in the direction of true love. Although that seems like it would be terribly inconvenient." Her comment set off a louder round of laughter.
"I thought the author could have spent more time describing the Cornwall countryside," Joe put in. A wave of good-natured laughter echoed around the room. Some people read for plot, others for character, and Joe read for scenery. From what Angela remembered, there hadn't been much scenery in this novel.
Courtney frowned. "You mean the section where he's stalking her and finds her skinny dipping. There was two sentences about the hills and then an entire chapter where he thinks about her 'full breasts' and 'forbidden cleft.'"
Piper held up a finger. "It sounds like a phrase from the title of one of those pulp novels."
"'Nancy Drew and the Mystery of the Forbidden Cleft’," Jen offered.
While other ribald suggestions were added, Angela took the time to switch to her other sight and check on everyone. Geraldine had finally softened up the brittleness that she'd always had a problem with, or maybe this was what she was always like in her own home. Either way, it was an improvement that Angela hoped would remain. The others all looked stable enough. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Lourdes's magical core again, stable but looking like it was trying to be something it wasn't. It reminded her of something but she couldn't think what it was.
When she tuned back in to the conversation around her, Danielle was speaking. "… but the biggest problem I had was the racism. The main character is described as being obviously good because her skin is creamy and she has blond hair that is so light it's almost white. Our hero, Duke Rapey McRaperson, has golden hair. And the bad guys in the book are the Viscount with the 'dark complexion' and his Chinese manservant who knows 'the ancient Oriental arts.'"
"Oh, but at least it has diversity," Piper said drily, then mimed pointing a gun at her head and pulling the trigger.
"Okay, but despite all the problems I thought the sex scenes were pretty good," Courtney said after the groans had died down. "Kind of vanilla, but good."
Piper shrugged. "I guess. She was such a strong character until they got to bed and then she did the whole passive 'Do what you want to me while I lie here' thing. I'm still holding out hope for the Regency where the girl ties him up and introduces him to pegging."
Courtney leaned forward and touched her ear. "Introduces him to what?"
"Pegging!" Piper repeated loudly.
When Courtney continued to look confused, Piper pulled out her phone and started typing.
Angela took advantage of the group breaking up into multiple smaller conversations to turn to Lourdes. "I really do want to talk to you about some things, but I'm pretty wiped out from my day and you look quite stable. Can we schedule a few minutes at the beginning of the next meeting?" Hopefully by then she would be able to figure out what was going on with the other woman. At Lourdes's uncertain nod, she waved a hand. "Nothing scary. Everyone reacts a little differently to stress, and I think it's helpful for both of us to know how things go for you. But in the meantime," Angela gestured to the person on her other side, "have you met Jen? I think the two of you live fairly near each other."
Angela made another trip over to the side of the room to snag a few more meringues, and looked over the group. The underlying buzz of magic in the room felt pleasant against her skin and she took a moment to relax. The job was often exhausting and her coworkers might yet drive her over the edge, but moments like this, seeing a group of people comfortable in their own skins, made it worthwhile.
Across the room, Geraldine glanced at her watch and took control again. "You're all welcome to stay longer if you want to keep talking, but I know some people have to leave on schedule. Who is hosting next time? Do we know which book we're doing?"
Jen raised her hand. "It's at my place. I'll mail the directions and the title as soon as I leave here. We're doing a cozy mystery this time. It's the fifth in the series but you don't need to have read the first four. I've read it. It's a fun book and it shouldn't give anyone nightmares."
Geraldine nodded. "Thanks everyone for coming here —" She broke off. "Oh, I forgot we weren't just here for the books." She looked over at Angela. "Did you need to say anything before everyone goes?"
Having people forget that the meeting was semi-mandatory warmed Angela's heart. "Please let me know if you're having problems. With the dragon downtown there's a big magic source, so you might want to avoid the area. If you can't, at least be aware that you might be a little more reactive." She looked back at Geraldine. "Thank you for hosting."
A chorus of other people thanking Geraldine turned into a general conversational buzz. By the time she had pulled Benson away from his conversation about Chinese political culture in the eighteenth century with Danielle, Lourdes was already talking to Piper.
"That was… interesting," Benson said as they closed the door behind them.
"Which part?" Eschewing the paved path Angela, walked across the perfect grass to the sidewalk. "The discussion, or the magic."
Benson followed her. "Both, I guess. I didn't know I'd be discussing the number of dukes in Regency England when I woke up this morning. But I meant the magic of the woman you were sitting next to. I'd never seen a predator forced into the shape of a deer."
Angela nearly smacked her forehead. That was what she'd found so odd about Lourdes's magical core. Outwardly, a lampong might be mistaken for a deer, but they were two completely different things. And yet Lourdes's magical core was being bent to look like a deer. "Thank you! I couldn't figure out what she looked like." She flipped her keyring around her finger. "I wonder who taught her to do that." And how Matt hadn't noticed that, she couldn't imagine.
"I take it she's one of your new clients?"
Angela nodded. "I'm usually a lot more prepared, believe it or not, but I've never onboarded this many new clients at one time."
As they were traveling back down the hill, her phone buzzed with a new text, and she glanced at the time. "I know it's getting sort of late, but do you mind if we make a quick stop on the way back to the office? It's on the way."
"Not a problem."
12
St. Anthony's Catholic Church had been built at the temporal crossroads of when churches were meant to look like churches but buildings were supposed to be built quickly and cheaply. As a result, it had soaring arches, with seams showing their concrete pour, and statues weeping rust where the strengthening rebar had been exposed to the elements. On a weekday afternoon, the parking lot was nearly deserted, but a faded sign on the path to the narthex indicated that confessions were being heard for two hours in the evening.
A few elderly women knelt with rosaries in the otherwise empty nave, and the green light was on above the confessional, indicating the priest was free. Angela went into the booth and sat. The sliding door blocking the lattice was already open and she could see the outline of the priest on the other side.
"Father Sebastian? It's Angela Jones."
"Ah, welcome." She heard what sounded suspiciously like a paperback book dropping on the floor. "How are you today?" His head briefly disappeared, then popped back up again.
"I'm fine. How about you?" She switched to her other sight, the thin wood of the confession booth only hindering her vision a bit. "Oh dear." The priest's core had so much extra energy that the entwined strands almost blurred together.
A quiet laugh came through the grate. "I spent the day helping the homeless fill out paperwork for benefits downtown. I hadn't been paying attention to the news, so I didn't realize how close to the dragon our shelter is. I finally had to claim illness and leave because I was afraid I would let out my darkness if I didn't get away. It's a little better now, but…" He trailed off and took a careful breath and slowly released it.
"You should have called me sooner." Angela dug through her purse until she found her obsidian beads. When Sebastian talked about his darkness he was being fairly literal. His shifted form was a large bat-winged gargoyle, black as night. Angela had seen a picture of it in his file, but as far as she knew he had never once shifted since he'd been transferred to this parish. The beads were just barely small enough to pass through the lattice. "Have you ever used a magic sink before?"
"I can't say I have."
Of course not. The priest had avoided spending any extra time learning about his condition, preferring to learn how to keep from shifting and then pretending it didn't exist. The Catholic Church had decided that the ability to shift didn't automatically condemn a person, but the act of shifting itself was a serious sin and magic use was a route to damnation. After Father Sebastian had shifted the first time and he'd gone to the mandatory training, his superiors had changed his name and sent him to a new parish, far away from the old one, where nobody would know who he was. Sebastian spent his life helping others and praying that his other side would never get out again.
"Not a problem, I can guide you through it now. The idea is that we're going to take that extra magical energy from you and sink it into the stones. Does that make sense?" Angela dropped into the reassuring voice she used on people who had just shifted for the first time. Her confidence would help him.
"It does, yes."
"Okay, the first thing I want you to do is hold the first bead on chain and imagine some of that magical heat you feel flowing into the stone. Flowing very slowly and in a very controlled way. Just trickling into the stone. Just like that, yes." She could see the light traveling into the obsidian, just a drop at a time. "Perfect. Keep going just like that."
Angela let him continue for a few minutes until she could see the obsidian beginning to buzz from the charge. "Okay, now I need you to stop for a bit and move to the next stone. Just hold back for a bit Sebastian, you can do it." The stone buzzed a little sharper now and she realized she should have started getting him to stop the flow earlier.
Right as the stone hit a buzzing that indicated it had reached a charge close to its failure point, she heard the priest grunt with effort and let go of the stone.
"Great, you're doing really well. Now pick up the second stone and we'll do the same thing. Slow and steady, just like you did with the first one." The first stone had just barely taken the edge off his store of magic. He would need to fill six or seven of the stones just to get back to his normal state. If anyone other than Benson was out there waiting, they'd think she had a few years’ worth of sins to confess.
As Sebastian switched to the fourth stone, Angela could almost feel him relax, and the flow into the bead smoothed out, becoming a steady current.
And then the steady current became a flaming torrent and before Angela could blink the obsidian shattered, the newly-released magic filled the air, and she felt his other form boiling to the front. The shadow of the gargoyle filled the space in front of her, and she reached and held him in place.
Holding the magic burned, and for a moment she thought her aid wasn't going to be enough, that he would overcome her and explode into his gargoyle form, destroying the confessional and possibly killing her in the process. And then, with a catch of his breath, the priest regained control.
Angela relaxed her hold on his form, incrementally at first, and then completely as he stayed. "Are you okay?" Part of the lattice between them was destroyed, shredded by flying shards of obsidian. It looked like most of the blast had been directed upward, but he'd been holding the bead in his fingers.
"I think so, yes. I have a little cut on my finger, but that seems to be the extent of it." The hysterical edge to his voice was muted by his practiced whisper.
Angela took a deep breath and pulled her shirt away from her sweating back. "Let's try again, and remember, just a little trickle."
"I don't think I'm likely to forget that again," he said with a nervous giggle. Then he gripped the fifth stone and started filling it, one magical drop at a time.
