Chapter One
Echo
2017
Two Weeks Ago
Ouch!
The pinching from a needle being shoved in my back hurt like hell.
I felt so weak, so nauseated, and I couldn’t move my limbs.
“I got the sample,” a man said in triumph, and I heard the clinging of his syringe hitting a metal tray.
“Test it with the others. We are closer now than ever before to the host maintaining powers without failure. Master said one of this group of gifted will have some vital genetics toward our goal. Dispose of the bodies. Can’t have the Hero Society finding them.” Another man with a proper voice spoke and then walked out a door.
My head was muddled while trying to take in as much information as I could, so I could track these men down and bring them to justice once I was feeling myself again.
I’d been walking to my Camaro when something had pricked my neck, and my sight turned fuzzy.
Vaguely I remember turning into an animal, but I didn’t know which one. It happened randomly like that when I was distressed about something. I’d managed to control it a few years after my sixteenth birthday, but I guess being shot with some sort of dart filled with drugs will stress anyone out.
“Let’s go, kitty.” The man who poked me in the back petted my head and then started unlatching the belts that were holding me onto the table.
I knew I was a goner, even in my blurred mental state.
Fight.
I had to fight back somehow. I thought about being a tiger, then I could crush the man with my weight and escape, but nothing happened. Shit.
Willing my last bit of strength as he carried me off to my death, I unleashed my claws, and fought back.
The man screamed in pain and dropped me on instinct. I took off running and by some miracle made it out into woods. I tried desperately to find somewhere I could hide but didn’t see any options beyond some low-hanging brush. With shaky legs I skulked around the island I was on and found a boat. Maybe it would take me back to Seahill. Wherever it was going, it would be better than here.
Making sure no one was on the vessel, I jumped on and squeezed myself into a small nook where I could hide from human eyes.
My body was done with me for now. It needed rest, and I prayed while sleep took me that I wasn’t found again. I needed to get back home, become human again, and find these fuckers.
When I woke again, still as a drugged-up cat, I noticed the boat wasn’t next to the island anymore but docked up next to the city. My legs wouldn’t move, though. I was too weak.
I lay there, listening to the small waves hit the side of the boat, thinking about my life.
After my parents died, I spent the rest of my teenage years being a bitch under the control of my aunt, who hated me. Every day I worked at the only restaurant on the reservation until my feet hurt, so I could save up money to move to the city, away from the staring eyes and whispered rumors. On the days I didn’t work, I was transforming into creatures of all sizes, practicing my new powers and testing their limits. By the time I was old enough to leave, I’d saved up enough money to rent a shitty apartment in Seahill.
A vise grip feeling hurt my head and I know my loud meow echoed around the boat.
I couldn’t die here. Not after everything I’d been through. Everything I’d worked so hard to accomplish.
I tried again to move, and this time I did. I was terribly weak and knew I didn’t have much left in me. I ran as hard and as fast as I could to get to my apartment. I’d left the window open for the fresh air to get in and knew I could fit once I climbed up the escape ladders.
I saw my building in the distance, but it seemed fuzzy, unfocused. I was close. So close. But then my feet gave out from under me, and I knew I wouldn’t be able to get back up. People were walking around me, not caring that I was dying before their eyes. Just more street vermin that was better off dead than begging for food.
God, it was cold.
I closed my eyes and thought warm thoughts. At least if I was going to die, I’d pretend I was sitting cozy by a fireplace, on a nice fluffy rug.
Warm hands touched my body, and my eyes flew open to look at the shadowed man above me. Was he going to take me back to those assholes who were experimenting on me? Was he just petting the dying cat?
“It’s okay; you’re going to be okay.” His touch was soothing, and something in his calming voice lulled me to finally let go.
My eyes closed, and I let whatever darkness that was waiting for me to take me.
I woke up some time later, warm and wrapped up in a blanket.
“Wake up, little one. You need do drink this.” That soothing voice from the street was demanding I drink from a medicine syringe. I was thirsty, and hungry. It felt like it’d been days since I’d had anything to eat or drink. Too weak to move my head, I simply opened my mouth, trusting that this man wasn’t trying to poison me.
That’s how things went for days. He carried me around when he was home, feeding me, helping me drink water, and holding me up inside a litter box so I could relieve myself. It was humiliating to be so needy in order to survive, but I wouldn’t have lived past that night on the sidewalk if it wasn’t for him.
At night he curled me against his hard muscles and covered me up, so I would stay warm.
I waited until I knew he was completely passed out and then poked my head out to truly look at my savior.
His black hair was wavy and curled over his ears, and his long lashes fanned his high cheekbones. I’d seen a flash of brown eyes once or twice when he was feeding me. He was handsome, I’d give him that. And he was kind to me. When I was back to my normal human self, I’d find a way to repay him for bringing me back from death’s door.
His eyebrows pinched together, and he jerked suddenly, sending me shooting off the bed with a startled meow.
Instantly he woke up and searched for me.
“I’ve got you,” he said softly and gently picked me up, placing me against his side again. His fingers lightly stroking my patchy, black and white fur.
“I don’t even know your name, and here I am sleeping with you,” he joked, and I glared at him with my cat eyes.
His brown eyes looked at me like he was seeing more in me than the cat I appeared to be.
“How about I call you—” He started thinking over a name for me, thinking this relationship would be permanent. A man and his cat.
“Snow White.” He smiled and then rubbed my head next to my ears.
“Yep. That’s the one. Good night, my Snow White.”