Chapter Four

IT was like someone shone a spotlight on the grass and walkway in front of Matthison Hall. Every blade of grass, every ant inching along the sidewalk came into clear focus. I could see everything. Lines were cleaner, sharper, colors truer than ever before. Shadows didn’t fuzz the focus in the least.

I turned toward Owen, Anxious Girl, and Cocky Boy and immediately wished my vision were not suddenly so acute. Their faces were pale, and Owen looked on with wide-eyed shock. Anxious Girl, a slim blonde with a long ponytail, looked ready to faint from horror or panic. I recognized Cocky Boy from lunch the other day. He’d been sitting next to that Jonah dude. He didn’t look so cocky now. In fact he stumbled back when I swung my head in his direction, and he tripped on the sidewalk much like I had earlier. He landed on his ass, then crab-walked until his back came up against brick façade of the dormitory.

I took a step toward him, or tried to. My legs didn’t seem to know how to follow the directions from my head. Like intent and muscle control no longer worked together. My limbs lost all strength, and I collapsed into a heap on the grass.

Owen lunged forward as if to help me out, then jerked back, apparently thinking better of it.

I shook my head to try to clear it. Which is when I caught a glimpse of a reflection in the glass of the main entrance.

Holy shit. There really was a lion—or something that looked a bit lionish—on campus. It sprawled in the grass like an awkward house cat that had just slipped on polished marble floors.

I tried to push myself up so I could run, get away. Even as I did it, the lion-thing stood from its sprawl.

I hollered.

It yowled.

I sidled to the left.

It matched me, stumbling step for stumbling step.

And that’s when I finally understood. I had passed out and was stuck in some kind of demented dreamscape. Either the stress of independence or the trauma of the pain I’d experienced had landed me in this nightmare. I went to pinch myself awake, but the claws at the end of my paw—holy crap, I had paws! And claws!

“Yusuf?” Owen took a cautious step forward, holding his hand out.

“Are you crazy?” Cocky Boy whisper shouted.

The tone grated, but more than that, I didn’t like the accusation against Owen. I snarled. I seriously snarled at someone. The sound ripped through the tension, ratcheting up the alarm in the air.

Owen moved back, placing himself in front of Anxious Girl. He gestured behind him, indicating Cocky Boy should back up. “Hey, Gene?” He barely moved his mouth and clearly tried to keep his voice soothing, but the apprehension dulled the effect a bit. “I need you to go to the front desk. There’s an emergency locker beneath the counter. The code is 5-5-6-3-2.”

“Code?” Cocky Boy asked weakly.

“5-5-6-3-2,” Owen repeated. “There’s a tranquilizer rifle for emergencies. Bring it and the packet of shifter tranquilizer darts.”

“On it.”

“You’re going to shoot him?” Anxious Girl asked.

Oh hell. He’s going to shoot me?

“I’m going to knock him out so he doesn’t hurt himself or anyone else.”

My fight-or-flight instincts were at war. I wanted to run, to get away from this psychotic situation. Even if it was a hallucination or some kind of coma-induced dream, I knew I didn’t want to be here, not like this. But I was too scared to run, and a soul-deep protective instinct had me ready to defend myself against… whatever the hell this was. I paced in a looping figure-eight pattern, wanting to run, unable to leave.

“What’s wrong with him?”

Owen shook his head. “I’m not sure. I don’t think he knows what’s going on.”

He had that right. I had no fucking idea what was going on. I had a tail. A fucking tail!

Movement in the reflection caught my attention. Cocky Boy—er, Gene—rushed out carrying some kind of rifle-shaped gun.

That was all it took for the flight combatants to defeat the fighter soldiers in my inner battle. I spun, crouched, and sprang away. It didn’t matter that I thought this was some messed-up dream. It didn’t matter that I had no idea where I was going. It didn’t matter that I didn’t know how to survive as some kind of animallike creature. I had to flee, to escape. So I ran.

For about three seconds.

A muffled pop sounded, quickly followed by a stinging pinch at my haunch. Then, three strides later, my knees—were they still called knees on a lionlike creature?—buckled. Two seconds later, I was out.

“I CAN’T believe you called Buddy, Dad. Seriously?”

“He’s the only local big enough and strong enough to handle a feral lion, Owen.”

For the second time that night—was it still night?—I woke to the sound of voices and paralysis holding my body hostage. Or maybe the rest had been a weird dream and I’d open my eyes and find myself in my dorm room, staring at the blank white wall.

Of course if I was in my room, then someone needed to explain why there were people talking. I didn’t have a television, and I lived alone, so….

I chuffed, the sound foreign and a little scary. I did not, as a habit, chuff. My breathing sped up, and I struggled to move, to open my eyes. Relief surged through me when my lids cracked. Maybe I wasn’t paralyzed after all, just sluggish. I couldn’t tell where I was; all my open eyes showed me was a butter-yellow surface, like a wall or a panel. I tried to lift my head to get a better feel for my environment. I gained about half an inch; then I dropped.

There was a scent in the air, something earthy and rich. Like boulders buried in soil and fir trees in the fall. And male, and power, and dominance. And since when did dominance have an odor?

“But Buddy? He’s not exactly an enforcer. No offense.”

Something released an ululating rumble nearby, and the skin along my neck and spine tingled in warning. So, naturally, I hissed.

Everything—everyone?—around stilled.

“Is he waking up?”

It suddenly clicked for me that Owen was there again. Or was it still? I couldn’t quite wrap my head around everything that had happened, or what I had dreamed happened, earlier.

“Stay back!” the other voice—this one older, but with the same deep smokiness Owen’s held—commanded.

I snarled. I really didn’t like someone talking to Owen that way.

And what was with the weird noises? I didn’t even snore, not that I knew of, let alone chuff, hiss, and snarl.

I tried to lift my head again, and this time it worked a little better. I gained enough visibility to recognize I really was facing a wall. Like my dorm, it was painted cinder blocks, but the butter-yellow color told me it wasn’t Matthison Hall. The paint wasn’t clean or unblemished. In fact, it looked like something had clawed the hell out of it. Actually, it looked like lots of somethings of various kinds had attacked the wall with claws and teeth. Dismay skittered along my spine. This didn’t seem like the kind of place I’d be safe hanging out in.

I turned my head and saw bars running vertically from the concrete ceiling to the concrete floor. Yeah, like the scratches in the wall, bars and concrete were bad signs.

And Owen was here? Was he being held in some kind of cell? Because sure as shit, I was in some sort of prison cell.

A little strength had returned, so I used it, and the fierce protectiveness fueling it, to roll over. It took way more effort than it should have for something as simple as a roll. My limbs didn’t seem to be in the right place, and my body seemed to be weighed down, but eventually I completed the turn. And immediately wished I hadn’t.

In front of the cell bars—and yes, I was absolutely being held in some kind of cell—stood Owen and a man who looked like an older version of my friend. And a monstrous, silver-tipped grizzly bear.

I surged to my feet, adrenaline, and an instinctive need to protect, to dominate, overriding the lingering paralysis in my body.

Owen stepped forward.

The older guy jumped back.

The bear thundered.

I roared.

Holy shit. I roared?

For the first time, I looked down at myself and saw not the tall, gangly young man I should have seen. No, instead I was confronted with ruddy black-speckled fur, feline paws the size of hub caps, and a tufted tail.

I stumbled back, landing on my haunches. It hadn’t been a hallucination or a nightmare. I really was stuck in the body of a lion. Or something lionlike.

I jerked my head up, looking for Owen. Looking for an explanation.

Sympathy softened his face. “It’ll be okay. You’re fine, Yusuf.” He turned to the older man. “Dad, I really don’t think he knew about shifters. He was completely terrified when he shifted.”

Dr. Weyer—because if this was Owen’s father, that made him the doctor who sometimes worked at the urgent care clinic on campus—shook his head. “It seems unlikely. How old is he? Even in individuals with delayed shifts, the first shift happens before puberty.”

“He’s at least twenty, but you weren’t there, Dad. I’ve never seen a shift like it. It wasn’t instantaneous like it should be. I’m not exaggerating when I say it took almost a minute. At least forty-five seconds.”

“Are you sure it wasn’t stress of the moment? Time always seems to slow down at—”

I shook my head even as Owen did the same. Even assuming the agony of the moment inflated the timing—and I was 99 percent sure Owen’s estimation of forty-five seconds was about forty-five seconds short of reality—it sure as hell hadn’t been instantaneous.

“It was painful to watch, Dad. I shouldn’t have been able to see enough for it to be painful to watch.”

The older Weyer gave in. “Okay. We need him to shift if we’re going to figure any of this out.”

“At least it looks like he’s tracking better now. Definitely less feral.”

Dr. Weyer approached the cell, straightening his shoulders. “Yusuf, I need you to change back now. We need to talk.”

He had to be kidding me. If I knew how to reverse my sudden occupation of a lionlike thing, didn’t he think I’d have done it by now? I really wasn’t digging my new appearance. If I’d been in my human skin, I’d have rolled my eyes. Instead I shrugged as best as I could with my new form. Owen chuckled, so I didn’t think it conveyed the information I was going for.

“Please, Yusuf. We can’t work any of this out until you can talk to us.”

Owen rolled his eyes at his father. I was glad it worked for one of us.

“I don’t think he knows how.”

“Well, he can’t stay shifted. If he’s as inexperienced as you say, the longer he stays in this form, the more he risks getting stuck that way forever. And truly feral shifters have to be put down before they hurt themselves or someone else.”

I cocked my head and whined.

The grizzly, who’d been watching the exchange like a spectator at a volleyball game, rumbled and ducked his head twice in a sharp nodding motion.

“Good idea, Buddy.” Owen patted the huge bear on his broad neck as though he were a Labrador rather than an apex predator.

I snarled again, wanting them to share the good idea with the group. I was all for any good idea that would let me ditch the fur and claws. And get me some damn explanations.

“Right. Yusuf, this is something that usually works with toddlers who experience their first shift.” Dr. Weyer rubbed his hands together, clearly ready to get down to business. “I want you to watch Buddy. He’s going to change back to human. Sometimes, when we are acting primarily on instinct, proximity to another shifter during the change can trigger our own shift.”

While I wasn’t excited to be on a level with a toddler, any plan, even one hinging on proximity to another shifter, was better than being stuck as a big cat. I jerked my head up and down. Hopefully it came off as leonine and majestic, not uncoordinated. If I had to communicate in animal form, being majestic was the least I could ask for.

The grizzly shook out his fur before ambling closer to the cell I was stuck in. His gaze met mine and held. I stiffened, ruff prickling, and something primal deep inside me recognized the eye contact as a challenge. The bear didn’t seem put off by my wary reaction to him. Thankfully there was no posturing or growling. I didn’t know what this strange monster inside me would do in any kind of confrontation. Which would kick in, flight or fight?

Then something… miraculous? Astounding? Unbelievable? … happened. The air around the bear wavered, like a heat haze in the summer, and then instead of a bear the size of a small elephant, a man stood. Burly and naked, yes, but he was definitely human. My jaw dropped, and I tried not to think about how dumb I must look.

“Once more, I think,” Dr. Weyer said.

The naked man nodded. A second later the shaggy bear stood in front of me.

“Are you ready to try it?”

He had to be kidding. I hadn’t seen anything. How was I supposed to emulate something I’d never seen before?

“Just a second.” Owen left his place behind the bear/man and hustled forward. “This time,” he said, wrapping his hand around one of the metal bars separating us, “while you watch Buddy, try to clear your mind. Relax. And picture your human form.”

I released a breath.

Owen kept talking, his voice soothing, hypnotic. “You’re tall. Think about your long legs, the curve of calf muscle, the bend of the knee. Imagine your hands. You’ve got big hands, right? Broad palms, long fingers. Think of the little things that make you human. Things like your belly button and your Adam’s apple.”

Sensation ghosted along each body part he mentioned, and when he mentioned belly button, I almost laughed. It tickled, and all those sensitive nerves tied into that little knot throbbed. It was then, at the very odd and purely human tug deep inside my gut, that Buddy the bear shifted. It felt like a warm wave of energy swept through the room and along the floor before surging up and around us, pulling me up like a marionette by its strings. One second I was squatting on the floor of a jail cell/animal kennel, the next I stood, shaking, in front of my new friend, his physician father, and a naked man.

I gasped in a breath, as though I’d been at risk of drowning, then immediately collapsed to the cold floor. I was weak and shaking, and I was 90 percent sure I’d be vomiting any minute now.

Owen crouched in front of me. The bars separating us wavered in my vision. Then I realized I was wavering, not the cage. “It gets easier. Next time you—”

I shook my head, a little amazed the gesture was pain-free. “No. Nope. No way. Never doing that again. Not ever.”

Owen cocked his head, eyes wide as he searched my face. Maybe trying to see if I was serious? It suddenly dawned on me—Owen was probably a shifter. Everyone in this room turned into an animal. And it hit me again that this was some messed-up shit. I crab-walked backward, putting distance between me and him. The bars of the cell didn’t seem like much protection against someone who could change forms at will.

“Yusuf?” Owen carefully adjusted his position until he sat on his ass, legs sprawled out in front of him. It was about as nonthreatening as a person could get. “Relax, okay? Your eyes are glowing, which means you’re about ready to shift again.”

I squeezed my lids shut, both to hide the glow and to try to wrestle some control back. I started reciting the Persian alphabet in my head, a trick I’d used to calm my nerves before some of the more invasive medical testing I’d faced. I’d only gotten about halfway through the thirty-two characters when I felt sufficiently calm. I opened my eyes.

“Good,” Owen murmured. “That’s good.”

Something moved in the periphery of my vision. I jerked my head around to see Buddy the bear/human slipping on a pair of worn-nearly-white jeans. A few things crossed my mind as I watched this. First, the man went commando. Second, I was bound to have an inferiority complex the rest of my life after seeing the size of his dick. And third, damn it, I was nude too.

No one else seemed concerned that I sat in a naked sprawl. Maybe they saw naked people every day. Which, come to think on it, they probably did. Me, I wasn’t so sure how to be blasé about something like public nudity. I pulled my knees up and angled my body to keep the more intimate parts of me covered.

“Any chance I can get something to, ah—” I gestured to my bare chest.

Owen looked startled by my request at first, but after a second he nodded and turned to his father. “You got anything around here?”

Dr. Weyer went to a cabinet on the other side of the room, and I took my first real look at the place Owen had brought me to. Outside the cell, the pale yellow walls were in better condition, cleaner, without strips of paint missing from where any animals—shifters?—had clawed at it. The rest of the room looked like the typical doctor’s examining room, but sized for bears. The exam table was big enough to hold Buddy and then some. The scale in one corner looked like something out of a farm vet’s office and was wide enough to throw a dance party on. A long counter was built into the wall along one side of the room, though there were no canisters of cotton swabs or boxes of Kleenex breaking up the flat expanse of blue Formica.

Dr. Weyer reached into an industrial-sized locker and pulled out a blue hospital gown. At the sight of the chintzy cotton, my stomach heaved and something tightened around my throat, making it hard to swallow and hard to breathe. I’d seen more than my fair share of those stupid gowns. I couldn’t face throwing one on now. I’d rather be naked. Seriously.

Biting his lip, Owen turned to his father. “Hey, Dad? You got any spare clothes around here? He’s not here for surgery. Sweats and a T-shirt should be fine.”

“We keep some things in the closet in the hall. But given everything that’s happened, I think an exam is in order, don’t you?”

I swallowed back the bile creeping up my throat.

I knew in an intellectual kind of way that an exam was most definitely in order. I’d turned into a fucking wild animal, after all. A checkup by a doctor was the least I needed. But my intellect couldn’t win a fight with the visceral terror and revulsion coursing through me.

“I get it.” Owen may have been talking to his father, but his eyes never left me. “But maybe we can make it a little more casual? Maybe a conversation rather than an examination?”

Dr. Weyer’s face cleared, and I realized his mind had been half occupied with something else. He narrowed his eyes and really looked at me. His piercing stare made me squirm, wondering what truths he was boring out of my psyche.

“You got this under control, Doc?” the big man who was apparently a part-time bear asked.

“Oh, yes, thank you, Buddy. You were a tremendous help.”

Buddy shrugged. “I had the time.” He was apparently a man of few words. Since I tended to keep most of my words inside my head, I could appreciate his restraint.

“I’ll buzz you out.” Dr. Weyer followed the bigger man to the door. He looked over his shoulder at Owen. “I’ll bring some clothing. And, Owen?” He waited for Owen to make eye contact. “Keep the cage locked until I’m back.”