Adapt (I)

TJR Garcia © 2020

SCARLET

Boe has completely changed my house around. I am now living in a little beach hut that is kitted out with gym equipment in what was the spare room; a solid wood table where my second hand coffee table sat; and a refrigerator filled with vegetables.

Vegetables!

I screw my face up when I open the fridge door in a naïve attempt to find something to eat. Everything is so green. My nose itches with the onslaught of herbs and the metallic smell of red meat.

“There is nothing to eat.” I whine, slamming the fridge door. “You’re like an overbearing girlfriend, coming in, ruining my bachelor pad and changing everything.”

Phoenix winds his way through the house, sniffing the new items in his space. I can tell he isn’t particularly happy with the changes. He wonders over to me and gives me a sad look, then continues around the house.

Boe unrolls what looks to be a poster. He splays it on the wood table that is now overpowering my little living room. “I found a block of chocolate in that fridge that went out of date a year ago.”

“I was going to eat that.” I mumble as I approach. “What is this?”

“A map.” He sticks the corners down with tape, giving me a look that could only convey judgment.

I shrug it off, not caring what he thought of my eating habits. Looking closer at the map I realize that it is of this local region, showing the coastline up to the city. “What’s it for?”

Boe gets out a red pen and circles Green Haven, then strikes two tally marks beside it. “It is to track the movement of Therians in this area. If you can track them, you can get ahead of them.”

I watch him as he circles, crosses and marks different things on the map. I shrug. “I kind of just let them come to me.”

He looks up at me, the marker lid wedged in the corner of his mouth. Something flutters in my chest, as his eyes meet mine. “I thought you said that you have killed more Therians than me.”

“Hang on, there is that word again-‘Therian’. What the hell is a ‘Therian’?” I ask.

I caught Boe’s attention this time. “You don’t know what a Therian is?”

I shake my head.

Boe straightens. “They are what we hunt.” My face must have remained a question mark because he sighs and goes on. “In the English language to refer to something as a therian is to mean that it of a species of animal, usually mammal. For humans, to be a therian means that they identify as or with an animal. However, in history Therians, or Therianthropes can become ambiguous. As hunters we hunt the only species that has specialized in preying on humans-the oldest and only real myth out there. Shapeshifting.”

“Shape shifting?” I asked. “So, like werewolves and stuff?” My tone is of disbelief. It seemed too... convenient.

Boe nods but cocks his head to the side. “Yes and no. Some hunters call them shifters. I don’t like it. The term doesn’t cover everything. The word Therian tells you everything. They are beings that have an animal side, the ability to phase between human and their animal half. It encompasses everything from those that can only draw on a few animal characteristics, to those that can fully phase into their animal. I have never seen a full therian, but I am told that they are out there.”

“Therian.” I taste the word. “Huh.” I turn his words over in my head. “The oldest myth?”

He shrugs. “Before people gave things names like succubus, vampire, werewolf, sphinx, there was always these depictions of humans with animal qualities. Some haled them gods, others damned them daemons. Only one thing is for sure, everyone one of them can be explained through therians. The Minitour; Dragons; unicorns; fairies-all are able to be explained by these therians. They take on so many forms, it is tough to lump them into just one category. But it is impossible not to, when they all share this one common thread-they feed on humans to survive.” He straightens his shoulders, pride swelling his chest a little. “That’s where we come in. No one has ever figured out what created the therians-whether it was God, or evolution, but there is a good chance whatever it was that created them, created us to restore balance.”

“Huh.” I say, a little overwhelmed.

A side grin pulls at his face. He is very pleased with himself that he was able to impart this most basic of knowledge to me. “So little old you has been taking down these things for how many years?”

Still a little dazed by the new information. “Since I changed. But Trent moved me here when I was twelve. I get a lot around here. Usually, one to two a week.” Which is true for the most part. Jack was a special case.

His eyebrows rise. “One a week? Do you know why?”

I shake my head. “Nah. I don’t really care. I clear them out, the next one comes. It’s a good system.”

“Huh.” He says thoughtfully. After a second he returns his attention to the map.

My phone sounds for the fifteenth time today, telling me that I have another abusive text from Caron. Boe doesn’t even react to my phone tucked into his pocket.

“Can I just tell Caron that I won’t be at school for a few days? She will get worried.”

He shakes his head.

I grind my teeth. “This isn’t HQ. People can’t just drop off the face of the earth. People will start to ask questions.”

He chews on the pen lid. For a second, I think that he is actually considering it. I stare at him intently, awaiting his reply. Instead, he drops his finger on the map, pointing at a little town just to the west of Green Haven. “Here, in Castle Ridge. I picked up some signals of a Therian. It’s fairly young.”

My face muscles tighten. “What’s that got to do with Caron?”

He spits the lid into his hand and clips it back on the pen. “Nothing. The matter isn’t open for discussion.”

I grind my teeth, suddenly reminded of the annoyance Boe evokes in me. “You can’t do this.”

He tilts his head from side to side. “Actually, I can. This is all part of the Head Quarters Experience. And you shook hands on the deal.”

“This wasn’t part of the deal.”

He shrugs. “It was the fine print.”

My nails bite into the heel of my hands. What have I gotten into? This is complete hell. If he thinks I am going to HQ, where they control each and every movement, then he has another thing coming.

“I think, if this is going to work, we are going to have to limit our time together.” I say through clenched teeth.

He swings open the fridge door and bends down to look in, revealing a sliver of skin at his waistband.

Something spirals and coils in my gut, heat flushing my cheeks. My brain works overtime to process what is happening. Boe mumbles something, but thoughts bounce like rubber balls in my head, and my body shudders.

“Scarlet?”

I swallow, coming out of my daze. “Yeah?”

“I asked what you want for dinner?”

“Ahhhh...” I run my hand through my hair, still reeling from my thoughts. “I don’t know. I will throw something together.”

“That’s okay. I will make something. How does vegetable lasagna sound?”

As terrible as that sounds, my focus is on the implication that he is staying. “No, I will make something for myself. You should go.”

He straightens and looks from the fridge to me. “We haven’t had dinner.”

“I don’t care, Boe. Please leave.”

“What? Why?”

“Go!” I shout, my hands shaking from the concoction of emotions coursing through my veins.

His lips are pursed, ready to argue. Then he nods, resigned to my demand. He picks up his black jacket from the kitchen bench and strides out of my house.

As he gets further away, my heart rate slowly calms. The redness in my cheeks begin to cool.

I have a long shower, trying to unscramble my brain. It wasn’t until the hot water ran out that I finally realize that Boe has taken my phone.

After towelling off, I slip into some pyjamas and log onto Facebook on my computer. I send a brief message to Caron, explaining that I had to go and see my extended family. It won’t hold her for long, but at least she won’t file a missing person’s report in the next two days.

After that I lie down on my bed and close my eyes, just for a second. As soon as my head hits the pillow my exhaustion completely overwhelms me. Before I know it, I am careering down a tunnel toward sleep.