swallowed several times so I wouldn’t throw up and made another note on my laptop. For a fifty-three year old, Gerald looked younger than I did. I cleared my throat and asked, “May I see your identification card, please?”
He pulled out a worn wallet from his back pocket and tossed the whole thing to me. I caught it, dug out the card, and verified his age. I offered the wallet back, made a final note commenting on his youthful appearance, and gestured for one of the police.
“Please send him to the administration building,” I said, and watching him go, I wondered which one of us was the bigger, badder monster: him for transforming into a wolf, or me for sending him to the elite, knowing they’d be far more interested in Gerald’s apparent youth than in his well-being.
I lost track of time while sorting through the endless stream of dae. The police seemed determined to send in all of the shifters first, and I was so accustomed to talking to humanoid animals that when the first human approached my desk, I gawked, at a total loss of what to say or do. She was a middle-aged woman with pale blond hair and blue eyes a match for the autumn sky.
She was so normal I wondered if she was like me, trying to figure out how to survive in a world turned upside down, where science made way for magic, and no one was quite what they appeared to be—except for me.
The standard list of questions spared me from acting too much like an imbecile, although I stammered when I asked for her name.
“Claudia Hampshire,” she stated, and her voice crackled as though flames burned within her, ready to burst out of her mouth at any moment.
I’d already been singed once by an overenthusiastic fire-breathing werewolf with no ability to control himself. I sighed, hoping the table between us would provide enough distance to keep me from being scorched. I asked for her other details, and when finished, I braced for the inevitable demonstration.
“If you’re a fire-breather, please limit how much damage you do. Skill and finesse are desired in addition to strength,” I said, wondering whether or not I should close the laptop and move it somewhere safe—preferably on the other side of the campus. While I was mostly telling the truth, it was more for my benefit than the college’s. I didn’t want to get burned again.
“I’m a fire-breather,” she confirmed, smiling at me. “Most people don’t notice. How curious.”
I didn’t tell her I had already met a wide assortment of creatures capable of breathing fire. Most of them smelled like smoke or had their fire in their eyes, but if she couldn’t hear the crackle-pop of burning wood in her voice, I wasn’t going to enlighten her.
I’d let someone who could withstand her potential temper tantrum inform her she wasn’t all that difficult to identify.
Those close enough to hear our conversation backed away, and I didn’t blame them. I wanted to take shelter, too, but I wasn’t in a position to go run and hide, unlike them.
“What is your demonstration going to be?” I asked, careful to keep my tone even. Sounding bored was a good way to provoke people, and Claudia was no different. Her eyes blazed from blue to orange.
“I will control fire,” she replied, and with an offended sniff, she held out her hand.
Most of those I had seen breathed fire out of their mouths. I hadn’t quite figured out how it worked, but most of the dae who could do it had glands in their throats or mouths, and they spit some substance that ignited with contact with the air. I hadn’t figured out how they did it without burning themselves, but I guessed magic played a role somehow.
Claudia’s attention focused on her open palm. Beads of sweat formed, and with a hiss, combusted. Fire danced over her skin. My eyes widened as it crawled up her arm, burning over her clothes without consuming them.
Most just spit flames, and the really dangerous ones had the equivalent of napalm gushing out of
He pulled out a worn wallet from his back pocket and tossed the whole thing to me. I caught it, dug out the card, and verified his age. I offered the wallet back, made a final note commenting on his youthful appearance, and gestured for one of the police.
“Please send him to the administration building,” I said, and watching him go, I wondered which one of us was the bigger, badder monster: him for transforming into a wolf, or me for sending him to the elite, knowing they’d be far more interested in Gerald’s apparent youth than in his well-being.
I lost track of time while sorting through the endless stream of dae. The police seemed determined to send in all of the shifters first, and I was so accustomed to talking to humanoid animals that when the first human approached my desk, I gawked, at a total loss of what to say or do. She was a middle-aged woman with pale blond hair and blue eyes a match for the autumn sky.
She was so normal I wondered if she was like me, trying to figure out how to survive in a world turned upside down, where science made way for magic, and no one was quite what they appeared to be—except for me.
The standard list of questions spared me from acting too much like an imbecile, although I stammered when I asked for her name.
“Claudia Hampshire,” she stated, and her voice crackled as though flames burned within her, ready to burst out of her mouth at any moment.
I’d already been singed once by an overenthusiastic fire-breathing werewolf with no ability to control himself. I sighed, hoping the table between us would provide enough distance to keep me from being scorched. I asked for her other details, and when finished, I braced for the inevitable demonstration.
“If you’re a fire-breather, please limit how much damage you do. Skill and finesse are desired in addition to strength,” I said, wondering whether or not I should close the laptop and move it somewhere safe—preferably on the other side of the campus. While I was mostly telling the truth, it was more for my benefit than the college’s. I didn’t want to get burned again.
“I’m a fire-breather,” she confirmed, smiling at me. “Most people don’t notice. How curious.”
I didn’t tell her I had already met a wide assortment of creatures capable of breathing fire. Most of them smelled like smoke or had their fire in their eyes, but if she couldn’t hear the crackle-pop of burning wood in her voice, I wasn’t going to enlighten her.
I’d let someone who could withstand her potential temper tantrum inform her she wasn’t all that difficult to identify.
Those close enough to hear our conversation backed away, and I didn’t blame them. I wanted to take shelter, too, but I wasn’t in a position to go run and hide, unlike them.
“What is your demonstration going to be?” I asked, careful to keep my tone even. Sounding bored was a good way to provoke people, and Claudia was no different. Her eyes blazed from blue to orange.
“I will control fire,” she replied, and with an offended sniff, she held out her hand.
Most of those I had seen breathed fire out of their mouths. I hadn’t quite figured out how it worked, but most of the dae who could do it had glands in their throats or mouths, and they spit some substance that ignited with contact with the air. I hadn’t figured out how they did it without burning themselves, but I guessed magic played a role somehow.
Claudia’s attention focused on her open palm. Beads of sweat formed, and with a hiss, combusted. Fire danced over her skin. My eyes widened as it crawled up her arm, burning over her clothes without consuming them.
Most just spit flames, and the really dangerous ones had the equivalent of napalm gushing out of
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