Skinwalker

The balcony off Levi’s third story apartment faces east. It’s after 7AM and the sun is starting to peak over the horizon, in its glow, off in the distance, are purple hued mountains. The world around me is still and the light fog that hangs over the landscape and in-between the buildings will burn off before too long. With a cup of hot tea in my hands and a blanket wrapped around my shoulders, I sit on a foldout camp chair with my bare feet tucked under me watching the sunrise.

Despite the late hours at work, I enjoy watching the sunrise whenever I can because every sunrise is unique opportunity to turn today into whatever I want; it’s a blank slate. In a few hours Levi will go to work, and I will be left alone, able to catch a nap sometime in the afternoon. For right now, I just sit, wrapped in a blanket I stole from Kendal’s stash at home a few weeks ago specifically to leave at Levi’s place, and continue drinking hot tea from the mug that’s keeping my hands warm. The only thing that could make this moment better would be breakfast.

From here I see a single jogger coming up the middle of the parking lot. I don’t need to assess his incongruent attire to know it’s Levi. I watched him dress in those shorts and that t-shirt, lace up those running shoes, and grab his ear buds without considering even a light jacket a little over an hour ago when he left the apartment. To him, it’s not cold outside.

Some subhumans run warmer than everyone else in the world. Even with that advantage, most are still somewhat affected by the cooler temperatures in the winter months. Levi is one of the few exceptions to the rule. As a mage, he has the ability to keep himself warm as long as he can pull heat from the space around him. Any occurring source of the four original elements, earth, water, air, or fire is a potential source for his magic. He can control, manipulate, and use it however he desires; he just can’t store it. This makes mages different than witches or wizards who don’t need a source outside of themselves to use their abilities; magic runs through their veins and is harnessed through spells and incantations that have been perfected over thousands of generations.

Levi’s ability has been known to benefit me, too. Having a boyfriend who can control elements has made him extremely useful if I need a cool breeze or I’ve managed to kill one of Kindal’s house plants when she isn’t around. Just like any decent subhuman, though, he has his limits. If I request small scale use of his talent, he never minds giving it to me. If I asked him to create an earthquake to wipe out my enemy, he’d say no.

The two of us have been dating for four months, and we do our best to keep our relationship away from the club. In fact, the only other person that even knows we’re a couple is Kendal, or so I assume. When she isn’t around, Levi spends time in our apartment, and with her heightened sense of smell, it would surprise me if she hadn’t picked up his scent by now. I assume the only reason she hasn’t said anything is related to a mutual, unspoken understanding. I don’t mention the men she brings home, and she respects my privacy.

The worst thing that could happen if Noah found out about Levi and me would be a discussion about dating in the workplace and how it’s frowned upon. We wouldn’t be told to end our relationship, we wouldn’t lose our jobs, and it wouldn’t affect our livelihoods. If the alpha found out about Kendal and the men she entertains in her free time, there would be serious consequences.

For tails, sex outside of the pack is considered abandonment of duty and it’s a crime that’s punishable by death even if a child were to result; werewolf genetics get lost in translation because they’re only supported by their own kind. Of course, there are exceptions to the rule, but she’s never elaborated on them. I asked why she would risk it and her answer was simple, she isn’t ready for children. Apparently exploring one’s sexuality isn’t a thing for tails either.

When the mug is empty, I set it on the ground and stand up. Leaving the blanket in the chair and heading inside through the sliding glass door of his living room, I realize he didn’t lock the front door when he walks in without using the keys. Then again, he rarely does during the day when he’s home. I’m not sure if it’s because he forgets or because he enjoys tempting fate.

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” he says, shutting the door with his foot. “When did you get here?”

“After 3AM.”

He plants a quick kiss on my lips. “How did you get here?” Then he heads for the refrigerator.

“Rideshare.”

Owning a car is an expense I’ve never been interested in. I’ve always lived within walking distance of my life’s necessities and when I must go further, public transportation can get me there. In fact, a Greyhound bus is what got me here from Louisiana around the same time the Reveal happened.

“Someone was actually running an Uber at 3AM?”

“There are people all over the Valley who work jobs like ours and need a ride home,” I say. “Or drunks,” I add with a shrug. “Hey, have you seen the news?”

“You don’t watch the news,” he states very matter-of-factly.

“It caught my attention when I was closing this morning.”

He pulls a protein drink for the refrigerator that he made earlier. “What did?”

“Apparently there’s a cure, or there’s going to be one anyways.”

“A cure? A cure for what?”

“Us.” It’s clear with the shape his facial features turn he’s trying to figure out what I mean by us. “Subhumans.”

“You’re joking right?” This draws his full attention.

I shake my head. “Some company announced they’ve cured ten of our kind and it sounds like they’re looking to cure more.”

Levi props himself against the counter and his gaze shifts toward the floor. His blue eyes become as deep as the ocean while he swims in his thoughts. I can’t follow all the expressions as they cross his face but it’s quite obvious he hadn’t heard this news. A lot of people probably haven’t. Who knows what time the live broadcast went out?

Several hours ago, I went through my own set of thoughts. I tried to sort through my concerns just like he’s doing now, trying to figure out how to feel about this information. Naturally, there are some subhumans don’t want to be what they are. They want to be human because they’re tired of being different, because they hate living with themselves, or because they’re sometimes tempted by what they are capable of.

A cure offers a different life, an option we’ve never had before. One that could hastily be accepted because the alternative is to remain unaccepted for what we are. If this cure had been available the day I turned, I would have forfeited my gift to stay with my family in a heartbeat. I wouldn’t have had to think about it. Today, if someone gave me the opportunity to take it, it means something completely different.

There would never be a reason for me to lie about what I am, and I would never have to worry about the repercussions of someone discovering me. For a change, I could just be Piper Monáe without being a subhuman or a hybrid. I would just be some red headed woman working as a waitress at a gentlemen's club in Chandler, Arizona.

“Ten?” he asks rhetorically to the floor.

“All of them are mutes.”

“Mutes? They’re curing mutes?”

I nod.

“Are you sure?”

“It was implied.”

“Why would they waste resources on mutes?”

“Why would mutes want to be cured?” Maybe they’re the easiest to cure because they’re basically human anyway?

“What else did they say?”

“They’re looking for more participants for the trials.”

“Participants?”

“Volunteers.”

“We’re volunteering to be cured?”

I wish I had a different answer than yes, but I don’t, so I stay quiet.

“Jesus.”

“Noah seemed worried.”

He considers that statement. “I would be too, if I were in his shoes.”

“You would?”

“Think about it, Pipe. He’s got a club full of tails to look after and now there’s a cure for mutes. Tails and mutes may not be the same thing but they’re probably not that far apart. What’s to stop them from collecting a tail and trying it on her? This one thing could cure them both.”

“They’re not collecting us,” I correct.

“Says who?”

“Their spokeswoman; she said they’re volunteers.”

“And you don’t think she would lie about that?”

I hesitate because he has a valid point. I don’t know what anyone is capable of. Yesterday when I went to work there was no such thing as a cure and now there is. Clearly, the people who work at Genetics Incorporated are capable of anything.

“Collecting us or not, they’ve been using shit against us since The Reveal and this cure of theirs, it isn’t going to be any different.”

Almost as soon as The Reveal happened, humans started creating things to use against us and said it was for protection. In the beginning there were wooden stakes and garlic, wolfsbane plants were integrated into landscape updates, and ultraviolet lights were installed like security lights. Any book that had ever been written, any movie that had ever been produced, and any online piece of fiction that mentioned subhuman species was studied. Anything suggested as a deterrent was on the market almost overnight no matter how ridiculous it sounded.

“They can’t use it against us if they can’t identify us,” I remind him.

Currently, there isn’t a piece of equipment that will show them our aura’s. They can’t see it and it doesn’t show up in any type of photography regardless of its quality. If they can’t see that, they can’t see what we are if we keep it to ourselves. Of course, some of us have gone public but those of us who haven’t should be safe.

Levi thinks on that statement for a moment. “Until they figure out how to get access to the archive.”

The subhuman archive is protected by our government, it’s not like it’s a library that’s open to the public. It’s a secure location and as for the people who do have access to it, none would ever risk sharing it. They’ve been sworn into duty and failure to do their job has inhumane consequences.

“The Queen would never allow that to happen.”

“I hope you’re right.” He doesn’t have as much faith as I do. Then again, he doesn’t know very much about the person I was or the job I did before I came to Arizona. No one here does.

Levi kisses me on the forehead and abandons the dining area for the living room. He stands in front of the television flipping from one broadcast to the next, hoping to find someone talking about what I just told him.

I wonder how he would respond if I told him I didn’t think the cure would be so bad as long as it’s used responsibly? I doubt he would understand, he doesn’t know what I am. To him, and to everyone else I know, I’m just a shapeshifter and the aura around my hazel eyes is a birth defect. They don’t need to know anything more than that because every time I’ve been known for what I am, I’ve had to create a new life someplace else. That wasn’t my intention this time; this time I wanted to stay.

The first time this happened, I was still a child. Shortly after my eleventh birthday I learned subhumans existed and that’s because I finally became one. The Illness triggers our genetics around the same time we begin puberty and the mutation that has been lying dormant within our DNA is activated. It’s like a light switch; for years it’s in the off position and then one day its flipped. It’s called the Illness because when that switch is turned on, it makes us incredibly sick, and while it isn’t common, some of us don’t survive this transformation.

For me, I became acutely ill. I remember feeling cold but also like my skin was preparing to sizzle like bacon in a hot frying pan. My mother tracked fevers as high as 106 and tried to control them with medications she could get from the pharmacy isle at the grocery store, but nothing really helped. I had body aches that never seemed to go away and nausea that put me off everything, including water. I slept as much as I could and when I couldn’t sleep, I listened.

There had been a time when my stepfather insisted they take me to the emergency room, but my mother wouldn’t allow it. At some point she explained to him that she was something called a quell, later I learned that’s a rare type of subhuman who carry hybrid genetics that leapfrog through generations but they, themselves, have no abilities. At the time, I thought I had hallucinated the conversation.

When I began recovering and feeling more like myself again, that’s when I noticed the pearl aura wrapping around my mother’s sky-blue irises. It was odd but strangely comforting, especially after I saw a different version of the same thing in my eyes. In private, she explained to me what it meant and what it signified, and that my stepfather and half-sister don’t have them and can’t see them. She never told me what I was, and she never talked to me about it again.

My parents were suspicious of me as I began becoming more active and returning to my normal life. I know now it’s because they were waiting to see what my ability was. They were always around, checking on me and my little sister, Alaina, but they never interrupted us.

One day Alaina and I were playing in our bedroom, and we got into a fight over some toy. She was trying to take whatever it was away from me, and I pushed her. That brief moment of skin-to-skin contact not only made me instantaneously and violently ill, but it also turned me into an exact copy of her. The transformation was one of the most miserable events of my life because it was the first time I had ever skinwalked. I hurt everywhere, even in my hair follicles and nail beds. There was pain in places most people forget exists on their bodies.

Our mother responded to the commotion we were making and that’s when I saw the confusion and terror hit her eyes. What is Piper? How did she turn into Alaina? How does she stop looking like Alaina? Immediately, she separated us. I don’t think she knew which one of us she picked up, but I was scooped into her arms and hauled off to her bedroom. She slammed the door on me and left me in the dark. While I cried with fear for what I had just done, I heard her and my stepfather arguing.

That night he took me out to the car, put me in the backseat, and we drove for hours in silence. Even though I felt exhausted, I never fell asleep. When we stopped, we were in a city called Hellsgate somewhere in northern Louisiana, at a building complex I later learned was the American subhuman government. My stepfather banged on the front doors of one of the building until a guard responded and then shoved me toward the stranger, telling the man with the silver aura I was his problem from now on.

The day I used my ability for the first time, was the day I lost my family. The buildings of the government became my home and under their protection I met the Queen, Scarlet Lucella, who took a heightened interest in me. She had known a subhuman like me centuries before and took it upon herself to teach me how to use my ability. She was the first person to tell me what I had become, a skinwalker. While educating me on the use of my mutation she insisted I continue my education with both human and subhuman studies. Which is why I know so much about the government and the different species.

For ten years Queen Scarlet diligently finetuned my perception of what control over my ability meant and taught me what I was capable of. As the only subhuman in the world who can literally become any other female I choose, I eventually realized how dangerous it is to be me.

When I was a child and an ignorant teenager, I thought I was the queens protégé. When I realized the extent of my mutation, I began to realize I was a weapon. My parents unknowingly handed me over to the capitol where I became a tool to be used. My purpose was to help maintain the queen's power. As one of the most powerful people in the world, she loved the idea of using my ability for her favor. I could host the lives of whomever she needed or wanted, and for whatever reason suited her fancy. When that became apparent to me, I disappeared.

She enjoyed collecting useful people; she probably still does.

I heard about Tails while living in the capital and I knew that if I placed myself in the center of a pack, even just a place where they spend most of their time, I had the highest chance of being ignored. It’s true what they say: vampires and werewolves don’t get along. Whenever they can avoid each other, they do. I arrived in Arizona a few weeks before The Reveal and started my life over for the third time in twenty-one years.

Last night, while I laid in bed awake next to Levi, I wondered what it would be like to never have to hide from anyone ever again. What would it be like to live wherever I wanted without having to take into consideration my safety? How would it feel to know that the people who would use me for their gains would no longer care about me? I could be free. I could live my life however I choose without thinking strategy. It almost sounds too good to be true, like a daydream.

When Levi finds a news station running a segment about the ShM17 vaccination he sits on the edge of the sofa. On the screen is the familiar blonde spokeswoman from Genetics Incorporated, Kayla Saunders, and she’s having a heated discussion with a very famous mute, Joseph Aldridge, the subhuman liaison. Joseph is the public face of the American subhuman government and the only person who ever speaks on behalf of the Queen.

It was decided prior to The Reveal that a vampire, the most well-known and feared species throughout history, shouldn’t be our public representative. While she is beautiful and wildly desirable the way all vampires are, beneath all of the blinding allure she’s still a member of the species most well-known for the slaughter of humans throughout history. On top of that, she lacks personality and an emotional processing center that allows for human interactions involving things like compassion and empathy causing her to come off as cold, calculated, and condescending.

In the interest of our cause, Joseph Aldridge, a talented legal aid with a reputation for getting what he wanted, was chosen. As a mute with the face of a celebrity and a silver tongue that has won him many cases, he’s less threatening and more widely accepted. While he began his career as the spokesperson throughout the world at the time of the Reveal, he now represents Queen Scarlet and the American subhuman government only.

“Our cure and all of the research associated with it, is a way to offer subhumans a chance to be human once again,” Kayla states.

Channel 15 is knee deep in discussion when Levi turns the volume on. The topic is gaining the attention of our nation and quite possibly the world. People want to know more about the ShM17 vaccination and how far away the day is when subhumans will be a thing of the past. While some can say that day has come, others can say it must not be that far away. In my opinion, curing a mute is not the same as curing a necromancer or a werewolf, or even a vampire. Mute genetics are already muddied whereas the genetics of a subhuman with full abilities are pure. A vampire though, is totally different. They’re dead and the last time I checked you can’t cure dead. You can animate it and talk to it, but you can’t fix it.

“Being a subhuman is entirely hereditary, Ms. Saunders, and to say we weren’t born with our mutation ingrained into our DNA would be a lie.”

Of course, our kind know his statement to be false, but the lie rolls off his tongue like a river rolls over a grain of sand. There are a handful of species who can pass their mutation through a bite. In fact, the dead can only pass theirs on in this manner.

“Then we will be offering a choice that has never been an option before. Subhumans can finally choose what they want to be, who they want to be, and what path they want their lives to follow. Their destiny is no longer going to be planned out for them because they will finally get to make a choice.”

“What about those who choose to remain as they are?”

“That’s a choice subhumans will have the right to make; G.I. will not force this on any subhuman who does not wish to take it. It will be offered on a voluntary basis only.”

“She’s so full of shit her eyes are brown,” Levi says. “Watch, as soon as their cure is proven effective it’ll be mandated.”

“Ms. Saunders,” the news anchor interrupts. “I have to ask the question on everybody’s mind, how long until a cure will actually be offered?”

“To date, the average vaccination takes roughly 5-years to be fully developed and approved, before being offered to the public. Though there have been exceptions, we are predicting the same 5-year timeline for each mutation related cure.”

“So, we could be looking at a lifetime of research before every subhuman can be offered a cure?” The glimmer of hope that had been in his eyes, fades.

“Ten years, tops,” Levi announces his opinion, and in the background, Kayla gives a vague answer that offers no timeline or promise.

“Ten years?” The interview continues in the background, without our attention

“Like I said, odds are one vaccine will work on several breeds and I bet they figure that out sooner than later.” He turns the television off, tosses the remote control onto the sofa, and checks his cell phone. There must be a message on it because he nods his head to himself and then locks the screen tucking the device into his pocket. “I’m gonna take a shower, why don’t you get dressed and we’ll go get breakfast before we need to get to the club.”

His statement sounds like it should have ended with while we still can instead of the bit about work. Work?

“I don’t have a shift today.”

He begins peeling off his sweaty t-shirt as he walks toward the bedroom. “Check your phone.” Then he disappears through the doorway.

I follow him so I can grab my phone from the nightstand. When he turns the shower on, I find a message waiting that’s just about an hour old waiting to be read.

Mandatory meeting, 10AM.

Noah has had four hours to think about how he wants to respond to the news of a cure and what he desires to do about it. Based on the text, he’s at least decided what he needs to do at the club. Currently there are only three standing rules at Tails. One, we’re expected to be present and prepared for scheduled shifts. Two, closing duties are to be completed by the last waitress, bartender, and bouncer on shift. Lastly, rule number three is that females will never come to, or leave from, the club in anything other than street clothes. What could Noah possibly be changing that requires a mandatory meeting an hour before opening?

When we get to the club, Levi and I head inside together, neither of us talking. The place is packed; I’ve never seen so many employees within the walls of this establishment at one time. It’s surprising there are this many of us even though I know all of them.

Kendal waves me over, I smile at Levi and head toward my best friend to sit at a table occupied by her, Tanya, and the Sarko twins who are both bleach blond Sicilian bombshells and the only sirens I’ve ever known.

“Do you know what’s going on?” Kendal inquires.

“I have a feeling,” I say.

“Spill. Now.”

“There was a news broadcast we saw this morning announcing the creation of cure, some vaccine that’s eliminated the subhuman mutation in ten participants.”

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“A cure?” Lacey and Sasha echo each other, sharing a look of concern.

“When I came home last night you were… busy,” I explain without being overly blunt.

“What do you mean, a cure?” Lacey asks.

Why does everyone need that to be clarified? It seems pretty straight forward to me. “The humans want to…”

“Shh,” Kendal quiets us as Noah emerges from his office.

He’s wearing the clothes he had on this morning when he walked me home. They’re wrinkled and his face is tired. He’s been awake all morning. He’s followed from his office by a man I’ve never seen before and Lydia.

“Who’s that?” Lacey whispers the same question that’s on my mind to her sister.

The stranger is the tallest, and scruffiest person in the club. “Tate Gallagher,” Kendal answers. “He’s our new alpha.”

Pulling my eyebrows together, I look at my best friend. What did she just say? Did she call him the packs new alpha? When did that happen? What happened to Tala?

Her brown eyes meet mine and before I can open my mouth to ask my questions, she shakes her head reminding me that I’m not supposed to know about pack activities. Asking too many questions, especially with the alpha fifteen feet away, isn’t smart.

Tate, Noah, and Lydia stand in front of the bar and everyone in the club is prepared to listen to whatever they have to say. While it’s probably mandatory that Lydia is present, Tate’s presence is meant to show his support for the changes that are coming meaning strict adherence from pack members.

Noah begins with the information from the news broadcast we saw this morning, restating only the facts that have been validated by the spokeswoman who represented the company that’s creating the vaccine. He doesn’t give his opinions, his voice doesn’t waver with judgement, everything that spills from his mouth is simply unbiased information. Even his body language and facial expressions don’t falter. It’s surprising to me that Lydia is able to be as unreadable as the two werewolves are, but there she stands, a mute with a blank expression on her face and calm relaxed body language.

The last thing the three of them need to do is provoke more fear than the issue itself already does. They intend to keep their opinions, feelings, and fears to themselves. Behind closed doors they will continue to address the safety concerns of the staff and the pack, and will adapt wherever, and whenever, necessary. It’s clear we will be given only useful information from these three and nothing more.

There are whispers among the staff, and I hear mostly words of concern. What does a cure mean to the future of the pack? Are they in danger of being cured against their will? What has our government said about this? Has the human government said anything? Once again, the world is changing and its outside of our comfort zone. First, we were exposed against our will and now we are being cured. Is that against our will, too?

Unlike so many other species, werewolves are proud of what they are. Most wouldn’t take a cure if it was offered to them even despite the dangers of being what they are. They know better than most what it’s like to be hated by humans because humans often hunt them for sport. Even on private, sanctioned land provided by the government.

“While we continue to get information about the vaccination, I need to put the safety of my staff first,” Noah explains. “Starting immediately there will be one additional bouncer on duty each shift that will act as security. Whoever is assigned this roll will arrive thirty-minutes prior to club opening and stay thirty-minutes after club closure. The buddy system will be implemented beginning at dusk when the parking lot lights click on. No one is to exit this alone.”

“If you’re unable to make your shift for any reason, you must notify the manager on duty immediately. Every employee must update their contact information and provide an emergency contact prior to leaving the club today,” Lydia states. “Failure to comply will result in corrective actions that could impact your ability to continue working at Tails.”

“Disobedience will result in pack related disciplinary actions,” Tate adds very casually.

“Questions, comments, concerns?” Lydia inquires.

Not a single person raises their hand or their voice. Everyone just sits silently, accepting the new regulations.

I glance across the room at Levi, who’s sitting near the bar with the other two bartenders, Corey Long who is a shapeshifter and Tiffany. Corey leans toward Levi and whispers something I can’t make out. The two talk discreetly like this for a moment, and then the moment is gone as quickly as it came.

“Our door is always open,” Lydia reminds us.