Jennifer Crusie - The Unfortunate Miss Fortunes

Dee rubbed at her shoulder again, wondering what she’d been thinking to believe she was brave.

‘Has Xan called you again?’ she asked.

‘You want her to?’

‘It doesn’t matter what I want her to do. It just matters that she doesn’t hurt you.’

Danny looked over at her, every instinctive suspicion plain in his bright blue eyes. ‘We’ve had this discussion, Dee.’

‘No we haven’t,’ she said. ‘Not really. It’s why it’s important we have it now. Has she called?’

‘No. Should she?’

‘I imagine she will, and when she does I need you to tell me right away. I’m not exactly sure what her strategy is this time. I just know she has to be stopped. Which is why I’m talking to you now.’

‘I guess I still don’t understand.’

‘Well, I hope I’m going to clear it up for you.’

Because above and beyond the obvious dilemma, if Dee couldn’t prove what she was, he would never understand what a threat Xan was. Not just to her and her sisters. To him. Xan would delight in breaking Danny James.

‘What do you need to tell me?’ he asked.

‘I’m a shapeshifter.’

Good God, where had that come from? Hi, my name is Dee and I’m a shapeshifter. I’ll be taking questions now.

She wouldn’t have been surprised if Danny just picked up and ran off. Instead he pulled her to a halt, still holding hands right in the middle of the sidewalk. One of the skateboarders missed them by inches and yelled invectives.

‘My sister Lizzie changes silverware into shoes,’ Dee said before she could chicken out. ‘My sister Mare can rearrange furniture without using her hands. My mother could tell the future, and Xan can… well, you saw what she could do this morning. We’ve had these gifts since we were young. Well, actually, since puberty. For the women they arrive then and then wane… change at menopause. I think that’s why Aunt Xan is on the warpath again. She’s just about that age, and I think it terrifies her.’

Danny gave her a bemused smile. ‘All she did this morning was convince me to see you.’

‘She wasn’t there, Danny,’ Dee said. ‘No matter what it looked like. She was a suggestion. Xan deals in suggestion.’

‘And you, uh, shift into…’

She rubbed a finger between her eyes, where a headache was blooming. ‘It depends. I’m still working on control. When you came yesterday morning, you remember the owl sitting on the table?’

His smile had long gone. Now he was looking nervous. ‘Yeah?’

She did her best to smile. ‘Twee. Twee.’

Brandon Upshot rode by on his paper route and almost clipped Danny in the head with a copy of the Salem Times. A car came the other way. Danny didn’t notice.

Suddenly he grinned as if it were the greatest joke in history. ‘Of course you were. And I…’

Dee pulled her hand away. He could have at least tried. She’d already turned for home when he caught hold of her -unfortunately by her right shoulder, which made her yelp.

‘What’s wrong?’ he asked.

‘Nothing. I think it’s just time for me to go home.’ Especially since her shoulder had started to burn the minute he’d touched it. Maybe she should have somebody look at it.

‘No, really,’ he said, frowning over her back. ‘Did you hurt yourself?’

And before she could protest, he’d pulled her cardigan and T-shirt down far enough to make her blush.

‘Dee?’

‘Yes,’ she snapped. ‘It’s a butterfly. It’s a symbol of, oh, I don’t know. Having the courage to fly. Well, I fly all the time. I didn’t need an insect on my back to help me. I’ll probably be the only hawk with a butterfly on its back. All the other hawks will laugh at me.’

He was smiling. ‘It’s beautiful. And so small. I really like the color’

Dee turned, trying to see. ‘Color? It’s black.’

‘It’s green.’

Which made Dee shake her head. ‘Of course.’

She tugged her clothes back up. ‘We’ve gotten off topic, Danny. You either need to take me seriously, or I go home alone.’

He flailed a bit, shoving his hand through his hair. ‘You’re asking a lot, Dee.’

‘I know.’ She was asking everything. ‘Believe me. Will you come to the house?’

‘Of course.’

She nodded. He took her hand again and they walked on. The trees were beginning to writhe as they passed, and Dee could smell cut grass and a hint of rain. The very air was in turmoil, as if Mare had been weaving her fingers through it. It gave Dee a chill.

They reached the house to find it dark and empty. Lizzie had obviously cleaned, because there wasn’t anything out of place. The only thing Dee heard was the throb of complete silence.

Something was wrong, though. Off. Dee stopped in the middle of the living room floor, but she heard nothing but her own steps echo off the hardwood. She thought to call out, but Lizzie’s door was closed. She looked hard into the shadowy corners without seeing anything. She took a sniff.

Ah, that was it. It was the power signature in the air. She caught Mare’s licorice and a whiff of Lizzie, gardenia and roses. And there, underlying it, a new scent. A tang of spices that made her think of something ancient and powerful and beautiful. She looked toward the bedrooms. Even though she couldn’t hear anything, she felt it. Power. Hell, there should have been waves of purple wafting out from beneath the door.

Was Lizzie here? Was she okay? Was it this Elric she was sensing?

‘She’s fine,’ Danny said.

Dee turned on him. ‘Could you at least wait for me to say it out loud?’

‘You did.’

‘No, Danny. I didn’t. And how do you know Lizzie’s okay? She just lost her guy this morning. This guy I’ve never met…’

‘I hear it. Like I heard the witches. This gives me a good feeling. A… hmmm, wow. Whatever she’s been up to, she’s enjoying it.’

‘Well, thanks for putting that image in my head.’ His grin was impish. ‘You wanted me to believe I can hear things.’

‘I just don’t want to hear what you’re hearing. Not about my little sister’

‘From what I saw of her, she’s not so little.’

Dee physically turned him for the stairs. ‘Come on. I brought you here to see my studio. Not eavesdrop on my sister’

Dee’s studio shared the second floor with Mare’s bedroom. Fourteen steps up and a slide of the hand along the banister from the outside world to hers. She had no control over the outside world. The downstairs rooms were kept fairly anonymous. Even her own bedroom was nondescript. Pale gray walls, black duvet, and thrift store dresser. Zen, Lizzie called it. Disinterested was the truth. What was the point of decorating a room that would see such uninspiring use? Dee saved all her whimsy for her studio.

She climbed the fourteenth step and led the way into her room. She flipped the light and held her breath.

‘Good God,’ Danny breathed, frozen to the spot.

Dee stayed where she was by the white hutch she used as a storage cabinet. This room was her sanctuary, her soul. It was what kept her sane when the responsibilities and the isolation wore her away. It was the only place on earth she didn’t feel like somebody’s mother.

The studio faced south, a stark wood-floored, slant-ceilinged, well-windowed space furnished in secondhand rockers, her grandmother’s trunk and a pair of cluttered worktables she’d painted cobalt teal, the very color, she realized, of Danny’s eyes. Multicolored bottles filled the sills to catch the sun, and every flat surface held a vase or bowl or pot stuffed with flowers from the garden. The air was thick with their scent. Her easel stood by the north wall, and jewel-toned saris draped the windows in purples and reds and oranges. Travel posters took up the stark white walls. Vienna, Rome, Bali. Peru. And, of course, Montmartre.