10
JESSICA
It stopped me.
Like I'd run into a fucking brick wall, the totem stopped me.
The moment I was at the door, I could feel it demanding I turn back. It felt wrong to leave without it. An impossibility. And the moment it was in my hand, and then in my purse, I felt safe again.
No, that wasn't right. It was more accurate to say that I felt like Ethan were safe again. That only by guarding the totem could I protect him.
Protect him from what? I wondered as I drove to work.
Even though I was ten minutes early, Mrs. Arnold was waiting for me with her arms crossed.
I went into her office, and allowed myself to be yelled at. I told her that I'd taken Ethan to the hospital with flu like symptoms, that his fever was so bad I didn't dare leave his side. When she was done yelling she admitted that she'd gotten an email from Ethan explaining the situation, but she still insisted I should have taken my assigned work laptop with me so I could work from the hospital.
When I showed her all the progress I'd made during my all-nighter, she grudgingly admitted that I wasn't completely useless.
The day passed slower than any day of my life. Normally being busy made time fly, but all I could think about was the nude hunk in my bed at home.
And the secret we shared.
At lunch I got a text message that finally broke the monotony:
(UNKNOWN): Your lunch meat expired three days ago.
I frowned at the screen, then saved the number in my contact list as Sexy Gryphon Boy.
Jessica: Expiration dates are for wimps.
Sexy Gryphon Boy: I had toast and jam instead. I like toast.
Jessica: Good to know you're easy to please
Sexy Gryphon Boy: Not THAT easy. Right?
Jessica: We'll see when I get home.
Sexy Gryphon Boy: Assuming I don't fly away. I might fly away. Did I mention I can fly away?
Jessica: Cockiness isn't sexy.
Sexy Gryphon Boy: That's not a word
Jessica: Sure it is. "Ethan the gryphon exudes cockiness." There, I even used it in a sentence.
Sexy Gryphon Boy: You made that up
Jessica: Technically ALL words are made up.
But our secret little conversation was exciting me, so much so that I considered walking into Mrs. Arnold's office and making myself vomit all over her floor so I could go home.
I bought a sandwich from the office cafeteria and pored over my work. Ethan had emailed me the database account information, so I was able to make a backup of the Production environment before applying the changes to the boundaries I'd made the other night. But the backup ended up not being necessary, and the change went as smoothly as any I'd ever seen.
By the time I left the office I'd even knocked out half the items on my to-do list. Maybe I'd find a way to impress Mrs. Arnold after all.
I arrived home at my apartment to find my boy-toy sitting on the bench outside, enjoying the sun.
"You look like Forest Gump waiting for the bus," I said.
"Nice to see you too." He got in the car and said, "You don't want to change before we leave?"
"After spending all afternoon daydreaming about you morphing into a gryphon and flying around like my own personal airshow? Hell no I don't want to waste time changing! And don't worry: I've got the totem there in my bag."
Ethan nodded. "I know. I could feel it drawing closer as you drove home. Hop on I-30 and head west."
I focused on the shitty stop-and-go traffic as I wound through Dallas. Only when we were on the interstate did I look over at Ethan.
"So what's the plan? I'm surprised we're driving this way."
"As opposed to...?"
"I mean, we're heading deeper into the metroplex. Wouldn't it be easier to head east of Dallas, or north?"
"It would be easier, but that's not the plan."
"Well aren't you mister coy today?"
"Hey, I've had lots of time to research. Trust me."
It was mostly friendly banter: I did trust him. I trusted his plan completely, without needing to know what it was. It was freeing feeling that way about someone. I'd never felt that way with Mark, or any other ex.
Could something like that last?
We passed Arlington and the massive Cowboys stadium, then wound around downtown Fort Worth. Ethan guided me along, always short directions rather than the full picture. When we were an hour west of Dallas, well beyond Fort Worth, he had me exit the interstate and drive on county roads for another 10 miles.
Finally we pulled into a dirt clearing next to a farm. I stopped the car and said, "After what happened yesterday, I thought we'd want to avoid farmers."
"Not this one." Ethan got out of the car and said, "this is an area where paramotorists come to fly."
"Now that's a made-up word!"
"It's..." Ethan struggled to explain. "They're like hang-gliders, but the pilot wears a big fan on their back for propulsion. But what matters is the farmer who owns this land allows them to fly out here." His smile turned smug. "And I contacted him online, paid him for an hour of airspace, and warned him that we had a special paramotor that looked like a real bird. Especially real."
"You're not just a pretty face and a nice body, you know that?"
He blinked. "You think I have a nice body?"
I rounded the car and stepped close to him. "My experience is limited only to the past two days, but yes, I think I can definitively say your body is nice." I brushed my lips across his and patted his chest. "Let's do this!"
We were the only ones there since it was a weekday, and we walked out into the open field until we were a safe distance from the road. Not that it mattered since Ethan would be visible from the air, but it made us feel safer. More secretive.
Ethan put down his pack and pointed. "I've got a pair of spare clothes in there."
"For what?"
"Well, you know." He gestured at himself. "The last time it happened, when I changed back into my human body I was naked."
"Oh, I remember," I said with exaggerated lust. "But that's because your clothes tore when you changed. An easy solution is for you to strip."
He arched an eyebrow. "I bet you'd like that."
"Hell yeah I would." I crossed my arms to show him I wasn't going anywhere until I got a show.
Showing an adorable amount of modesty, Ethan slowly removed his shirt and then his jeans, then folded them neatly on top of his bag. "I'm leaving my boxers on," he said stubbornly. "I don't care if they're ripped apart."
"I guess I'll survive." I reached into my purse and removed the totem. Now that we were here, at the point we'd talked about and waited for all day, the totem felt like a bomb in my hands. And it seemed to know of our plans as well: it pulsed more than normal, its excitement mirroring our own.
"You feel it too?" Ethan said.
"Uh huh."
"Is it my imagination, or is it glowing?"
"Not your imagination," I said. "It's glowing like there's an LED bulb inside."
Ethan took a deep breath, clearly as nervous as I was. More nervous, even. And with good reason. He's the one with the hard part of all this.
I handed him the totem. Even though it easily fit in one palm, he accepted it with both hands and held it like a newborn baby. "Is this going to hurt again?"
"I don't know why you're asking me."
"I was hoping you'd lie to me."
I gave him a bright smile. "Ethan, I promise it won't hurt a bit."
"Yeah," he said, shaking his head, "that doesn't make me feel any better. Alright. Here goes nothin'."
He ran his thumb along the totem's back, up along the wings and then finally around the emerald. He felt along the outside edge, then placed his thumb directly on the top of the gem, and squeezed.
Nothing happened.
After a brief pause, both of us exhaled as one.
"See?" Ethan said, exasperated. "This was how it was when I was on the plane ride back from Belize. The emerald's wedged in there tight." He shoved it at me.
"I don't understand," I mumbled, turning the totem over in my hands. "When I did it, it was as easy as--"
CLICK.
The emerald depressed inside the totem the moment my finger touched it. The air around us moved, whooshing past my ears like a tornado, though I couldn't feel it on my skin and it didn't stir my hair. Ethan hissed with pain, clenching every muscle in his body tightly, but didn't scream the way he had the first time.
And then he began to change.
His skin bulged with force from underneath, muscles expanding and spreading grotesquely. He fell to his knees as finger-like bones pressed up through his back, then broke the skin as if it were melted plastic, wings in miniature sprouting from his body. They grew rapidly, like watching a timelapse of a flower growing from the soil, blooming wonderfully with the spreading of powerful wings, feathers flapping into place from nowhere. Ethan's boxers were a distant memory as his torso expanded, the thick muscles in his quads and calves distorting with fur and claw.
I didn't see his face transform because he'd tucked it close to his chest, but in an eyeblink it was the head of an eagle, golden beak curved down to tear at meat and golden eyes sharp behind the feathers of his face.
For an instant time stood still, Ethan's transformation complete, posing like the stone statue in my hand.
I am free! I felt him think.
And then he stretched his wings like sore muscles, and leaped into the air with the strength of a cat.
I stepped back from the sight as he beat his wings and rose away from me, pulling his body heavily into the air.