Chapter 1
“History shows that mankind is very unkind to those they deem different. Every human settlement on earth has brought about destruction to native populations or to nearby populations. Subtle differences in religion or gender found in peer-groups have even led to death, expulsion, or other forms of abuse for those deemed too different, or out of the norm, of so-called civilized society. Because we are so very different, so very strange to those that do not have our abilities, we have to hide who we are and what we are. We are natural animals, the same as any other animal on this planet, but because we can change our shapes, our appearances, we would be hunted, killed or used for warfare as a weapon in some way. For our very survival we cannot go public; we must hide in the shadows, and we must not allow the world to know we exist. Our nature must be hidden if we are to survive.”
Mira closed the dusty old book, wondering if it was a work of fiction or that of a deranged mind. She could tell by the age of the cover and the paper that the book was at least one hundred years old, but the last few entries had been done in ball-point pen; which is not that old. The older entries were certainly done with a quill and ink; that much was obvious by the scratches and blobs of ink found on some pages, but the newer ones were definitely modern ink pens. Mira thought the books strange, there were three of them that she’d found so far, hidden in her grandmother Angelica’s mattress, but she wasn’t able to translate the older writing yet. It appeared to be in Spanish, and though she could read Spanish, every time she looked at the pages her eyes went blurry, and she was unable to make out the words. The portions written in English were as clear as day, but the Spanish portions just made her eyes water.
Putting the book down on her grandmother’s nightstand, she looked round the room. She’d never been allowed in this room as a child and it was only now, after her grandmother’s death, that she was able to walk into the other woman’s sanctuary. The room looked like it had been decorated around 1930 and left as it was. The furniture consisted of period pieces that were simply made, but serviceable in a pink color that apparently appealed to ladies back in the day. Mira called it ‘bismuth pink’; it reminded her of stomach ailments, but her grandmother must have loved the color because the whole room was painted the same shade.
Mira thought about the lines she’d read again; she was certain she had found a hoax, an early example of fictional monster writing, anything but the true account of a nineteenth-century shape-shifting were-person. Were-people! Mira thought if this type of person truly existed now, science would have discovered it, examined it, and published numerous articles on the discovery. Such a discovery would have been reported world-wide, surely!
Mira picked up the book she’d been reading and looked through the pages again. She decided to read through the last few pages, as those were the only ones she could truly read without her eyes going all fuzzy, and found that her name was mentioned on the last page. She read the line and thought perhaps the books were some kind of deranged family history, as the words only mentioned her parents and her name along with her date of birth. She knew her mother’s mother had been Hispanic, but not that the woman knew how to read or speak Spanish. She’d always assumed her grandmother, born and raised in California, did not know the language because Mira had never heard her speaking it. The only reason Mira knew any Spanish was because of friends and her classes in school. She wouldn’t know any of the language otherwise.
Thinking the whole thing odd, Mira put the book down again as she heard cars arriving in the driveway. That must be her father’s cousin Monica and her daughter Alice. They were the only family Mira had left and she didn’t remember either of them, but they had offered to drive her around when she got back into town, once they found out she was here. They’d come over to her grandmother’s house not long after she took a taxi from the airport, and offered their help then. The ladies were both older than Mira, and she hadn’t really had anything to do with them since she was a child.
Mira’s grandmother had sent her off to boarding school as soon as she was old enough to travel to the east coast of America on her own. The years apart had caused a distance to grow between Mira and her grandmother, and she hadn’t even known her grandmother was ill when the older woman had passed away. Too many family secrets, too much time apart, it’s no wonder I stayed in New York for so long, Mira thought to herself. There simply wasn’t anything here for me.
Leaving the room, she walked down to the foyer and let the two women in who came to take her to the funeral. Each woman embraced Mira, embraces she returned awkwardly and asked them if they needed to freshen up or needed a drink before they left to go to the funeral. Both women declined, and they all walked out to the car.
The drive was filled with chitchat, with Mira explaining that she’d been given a month off from her job as a historian for a museum in New York so that she could get her grandmother’s estate in order. She explained that she was planning on going back as soon as she could, and that she was going to sell the house as quickly as possible also. She had no wish to stay in California, as she felt no real connection to it and was eager to get back home. Mira learned that both ladies were married and spent their lives devoted to the men in their family. This much was obvious to Mira as the women bragged about the exploits of their men but said very little about the female offspring they had produced, other than to say they had married well. Whatever that meant, Mira thought, as she looked out the window. This type of woman was an oddity to Mira and held little interest for her. She was not a homemaker and never would be.
At the graveside later, Mira noticed more people were there than she expected. She had a catering service setting up refreshments back at the house, but she hadn’t expected this many people to show up. A range of beautiful people, young and old were present and each came to her to express their condolences. Mira was pleased that her grandmother warranted such a large turnout but hoped the catering service could keep up.
Shaking away the strange thought at a time like this, Mira walked over to her cousins and asked if they were ready to go once the service was over. She wanted to get back to make sure everything was set up. Before she could get to them though, Mira saw a man that made her stop in her tracks. Well over six feet tall, the man was not only handsome; he was gorgeous with tan skin that just begged to be touched and kissed. His dark hair was pulled back into one of those man-buns that should look silly, but on him, it made Mira want to tear his clothes off. She also noticed he had dark-green eyes, an unusual emerald shade that made her wonder if he had contacts in. Mira felt an urge to walk over to the man and introduce herself, maybe ask how he knew her grandmother but talked herself out of it.
Looking into the blacked out window of a nearby car Mira saw that she herself was tall, but not as tall as this man, with blonde hair and brown eyes, but she wasn’t very attractive. At 26, some might still call her an old maid, or boring, uninteresting and other such words. The only part of her that ever seemed to draw attention was her large breasts but when people noticed the rest of her was rather plump; their interest seemed to wane. She wasn’t the beautiful model type this man had to be used to. She tried to shake this strange, overpowering attraction she felt towards the man and walked away, reminding herself she was at her grandmother’s funeral, not a pickup bar.
Mira found her cousin and the woman’s daughter but still couldn’t quite take her eyes off the man. Turning to Monica, she asked if her cousin knew who the man was. Both Monica and Alice shook their heads and said no. Monica asked if she was alright, and ready to get back to the house. Mira said that she was but even after getting into the car, she couldn’t quite take her eyes away from the man. Her eyes followed him until he was out of sight, far behind her and miles away, and even then her eyes seemed to scan for him in the people she passed by. Rubbing her head, Mira wondered if she was getting sick or just desperate for male attention. What a weird time to become infatuated, she thought, as the car pulled up to the house. Well, it’s time to forget him now and plaster a smile back on your face; people will be here soon enough.