Panthera Spelaea

“One more, and we’ll have the whole set,” I said lightheartedly as we made our way to chairs in Art’s ornate office. A young woman in a crew uniform took drink orders and disappeared.

“That would be a first,” Duncan said. “Art visited our ranch forty years or so ago, and we visited Edward before he moved to Tasmania. Now he’s too dang far away.”

“It is a lot of travel, and I know how you hate staying cooped up,” Edward said with a wave.

“Fences and buildings make me nervous; it’s the way I am,” Duncan replied. “When is Ekatarina arriving?”

“She’s on her way,” Art said. “She should arrive in time for dinner.”

“It’s an exciting time for us,” Edward said. “Has a gathering like this EVER happened? I don’t recall meeting with more than one of my fellow switchers at a time for training or to catch up. My Dad never mentioned it.”

Art shook his head, no. “Never have the known switchers gathered until now, and I’ve been around longer than any of you.”

I looked over at Duncan. “When did you become a Switcher?”

“During the Revolutionary War in 1778,” Duncan responded. “My father moved from Scotland to the Colonies, arriving in 1650 in Boston. He moved between the Colonies to hide his lack of aging, finding lightly populated areas with good hunting for his wolf. Even back then, muskets and the fear of wolves made it dangerous to be out in my animal form.”

That brought up a question I had. “Both Art and Ekatarina told me they like to switch a few times a week.”

Art snickered. “It’s easy for her; she just flies away. The rest of us have to have room to switch with no one around, like on that beach we were just at.”

“So how often do you tiger out, Edward?”

“My cat is pretty easygoing, I guess. I try to give myself fur time every fortnight or so, but I’ve gone months without switching. When I let my cat out, I prefer to do it for a day or two if I can.”

Duncan just shook his head. “There’s a reason I live on thirty thousand acres of ranch land. My wolf gets restless if he doesn’t get a run every day, and he hates going more than two days. How often does a Cave Lion come out?”

I accepted a bottle of Coke from the crew member. “He loved it at the dacha where he was out every day, but he’s gone weeks between early on. I think he understands from me when it is too dangerous, but before we melded minds, he forced his way out after a few weeks locked inside. I guess I don’t know what the minimum is yet.”

Duncan nodded. “I don’t think anyone knows much about the Cave Lion. If you have a safe place, switch as much as you can. It will help you merge your minds and make it less likely he pushes his way forward when you don’t want him to.” He sat back as a crew member handed him a German beer. “That’s why we are a little late. I hate when I’m stuck in an airplane, and I don’t have a private jet or loyal boat crew like Art here. I spent a full night in my wolf before heading to the airport, then slept most of the flight. It’s the best way I’ve found to travel long distances when I must.”

Art agreed. “That’s part of the challenge of being a new switcher, learning to coexist with your animal side and seeing that his needs get met, too. None of us can afford the exposure that would occur if our animal switched at the wrong time.”

I had to agree. “I’m lucky the Moscow park had no video surveillance in the area where the girls were. If we hadn’t escaped into the park, I’d be all over the internet by now.”

Art tossed down his vodka and leaned forward. “That’s part of why we all wanted to talk to you. Each of us has chosen different ways to live as a switcher. I hide from the world, using my wealth and anonymity to stay out of the limelight. Edward moves around every twenty years, picking places with low population densities and few tourists. Ekatarina moves to a new Russian city every decade or so, traveling to the country to fly. Duncan owns large holdings in rural America, moving between them while remaining an absentee owner of others. All of us change identities periodically, and I help with that.”

“How?”

“I have doctors who provide birth certificates for fake sons. These identities get updated with fake school records, medical histories, and driver’s licenses. When we move, we assume the new identity.”

“I’m not rich like these blokes,” Edward said, “so I have his doctors fake my death and pass my estate to my ‘son’ who moves far away to start a new life.”

Art waved at the boat. “I am happy to help, as nothing good would come from our exposure. Imagine the lure of immortality, combined with the raw power our animals have. How far would the rich and powerful go to achieve that?”

A hell of a long way, I imagined. “What do you think I should do?”

“We will know more when Ekatarina arrives. You are a hard case because your name and face are widely known, tied to a dead Cave Lion and a killer Moscow lion. The Internet never forgets. We might have to hide you out for a long time.”

“How long?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “A century would be good.”

Holy crap. “A hundred years?”

“Long enough for your story to be forgotten, and everyone who knows you to die off.”

Including my family and Svetlana’s parents? “Our families? I can’t abandon them.”

Art waved his hand around. “I have disappeared without abandoning my family. You can, too. Your father is nearing retirement age, and you have enough money to live comfortably in isolation. You could take them with you and let them help raise your children.”

“Nothing has to happen right away,” Edward agreed. “Your situation with two mates is unique but not difficult to overcome. You could marry Svetlana and settle down in Texas. We can fake your deaths later on.”

Art agreed. “Of course, everything is subject to change if your secret isn’t as secret as we thought. Viktor was pushing you for a reason, and whoever was directing him wanted your Gift for himself. You can bank on that.”