So engrossed in the prospects of my phantom hand, I lose track of time slinging Spells while forgetting all about the wild murder machine I brought home and stuck in a barn full of potential meals.
Luckily for me, the sweet diamondclaw is polite enough to let me know she’s ready to eat by rummaging through my saddlebags rather than making a meal of any kiccaws, horse, or cattle. “Oh I’m sorry girlie,” I coo, running over to save my saddlebags as soon as I notice. “You hungry? Lemme get you some food.” Gingerly lifting her into my arms, I can’t help but give her nose a little kiss and laugh when she opens her eyes and mouth wide in surprise. Rummaging through the pack, I say, “You done eaten everything ‘cept the jerky. You eat meat?”
A sniff and a sneeze from the little girlie proves inconclusive, because I wouldn’t want to eat hard jerky either. “Alright girlie,” I say, as she gives me the big ol’ doe eyes. “Let’s head inside so I can fix us up some good eats.” I swear on my mama’s grave, the little diamondclaw’s smile gets bigger to hear it, so I carry her out cradled in my arms while giving her all the scritches she could want. It’s almost a shame that she’s gonna grow into a massive murder machine, because I would love it if she stayed this size forever. She’s even cuter than a marty, and that’s saying something, though I’m sure Cowie would be upset if he ever found out he’s the third cutest animal around.
And that’s only when he’s a baby. He still cute when he normal sized, but not as cute as a wally or kiccaw.
Since I been home for awhile now, I’ve kept my Freeze-box stocked with some food, just enough to fix up a couple sandwiches when I’m hungry at night. Got frozen flatbread, brisket, and veggies aplenty, which I lay out on the kitchen counter and let the sweet girlie sample. She’s happy enough to munch on some grated sunspine tubers, but she seems much more interested in the brisket, which goes to show I was right not to leave her in the barn whilst hungry. And here I thought she might be an herbivore, but no such luck, because even if I had to feed her nothing but the choicest of fruits and grains, it’d’ve still been cheaper than feeding her meat.
Though I give her free rein of the counter, she’s a polite little gal for a wild beastie, hanging back and eating what I put in front of her instead of charging right in to take it. Gives me time to put a wrap for myself while feeding her bits and bobs, only to have her zero in on my creation as soon as it’s complete. Taking a bite for myself and chuckling at her enraptured gaze, I prep a second one without any sauces or pickles and let her have it. To my surprise, she don’t dig right in, and instead gives it a sniff before hitting me with them big green eyes again, looking all sad and mournful. Against my better judgment, I grab a knife and a dab of sauce to hold out for her to sniff, and use her reaction to gauge if I should add it to the wrap. Could’ve saved myself some time and put all the fixings on there, because the little diamondclaw don’t say no to nothing, not even the pickled veggies or hot sauce.
Just to be sure, I tear a piece off of my wrap and feed it to her to make sure she’ll actually eat it. Which she does, gobbling up the morsel with the daintiest little bites. Then and only then do I give her the whole wrap with all the fixings, which she carefully takes between her clawed hands and nibbles away at with relish. Might well be the cutest thing I done ever seen, and it’s hard to resist the urge to make all manner of high-pitched noises. I keep it contained though, then make five more wraps with all the fixings I got left. Seeing all the food laid out for her to eat, the clever diamondclaw hops off the counter once her first wrap is finished, then gives her whole body a good shake like she just come out the water. Except rather than drops of water, she’s shaking off Cowie’s Minify Spell, and my heart jumps a bit in my chest as she goes back to her full size, which ain’t much bigger than a wheelbarrow. I’d wager she’s a good hundred fifty pounds of muscle and maybe another fifteen in pure floof, which makes her look a lot bigger than she is. Still, them big honking claws are intimidating to behold, until she stands up on her hind feet and realizes they’re too long for her to grab her wrap off the counter.
Smart enough to realize it too, before even reaching for one at that, and she turns her big, round head towards me to let out the softest little squeal I done ever heard. All while she got her front paws folded neatly in front of her chest to tuck them big curved claws away, which makes her look so polite and cordial I can’t help but melt at the sight.
That does it. Seals the deal with no chance of repeal. I would sooner sell this house and the land it sits on than abandon this sweet baby diamondclaw to the wilds I stole her from.
When we done eating, I give her a quick wipe down with a warm, wet cloth and marvel at how smart she is. She closes her eyes when I wipe her face, stretches out when I do her back, flips over to show her belly so I can wipe that too, and holds perfectly still as I clean her paws and get in between them toesies. Gives me a chance to get a good look at her front claws, which are right fearsome to behold, a trio of solid bone blades about a foot and a half long each that curve inwards towards the end. Using my Mage Hands to feed the cloth between each blade, I wipe them clean of Abby fluids as best I can, wishing I could just splash her repeatedly with Water Sphere instead. Her Spell Resistance don’t let that happen though, melting the Conjured water away before it touches a hair on her body, and I imagine it’d be the same for her claws too. Besides, this is a good chance to limit test and see how she reacts to being handled, and so far, she’s passed every test with flying colours.
Don’t much like getting her behind wiped as she’s shuffling out the bathroom door, but I can’t say I blame her, now can I?
As another test, I give her free roam of the house while I take a nice hot shower to rinse away the dirt, sweat, stress, and fatigue of the day. The travelling was easy enough, but the socializing is what done me in, all the questions and answers and polite talk that I had to endure instead of telling them the facts like it is. Them people was scared is why, because the Mindspire is new and unexpected, and we watching it develop in real time. The Fear was unpleasant, while Glowing Coin almost done me in, and I’m pretty sure it hit me with a Discord at Mueller’s Quay, making me all suspicious of their smiles. Hate to see what it does when it works its way up to Third Order Spells like Beguile, Paranoia, or Antagonize. Let’s not forget about the constant Dissonant Whistle drilling a hole in the side of my head all day, which I could really do without, or the stress of seeing an armed stranger and wondering if the Proggie gonna whisper a Suggestion or Command in their ears to make them attack or even look like they about to attack.
Yea, Command is just a First Order Spell, usually limited to one- or two-word phrases, but a properly worded and timed Command can do a whole lot of damage. ‘Aim’ is only one word after all, and someone in a tense situation with weapon already in hand would be inclined to obey since it’s something they was ready to do in a pinch. Soon as they realize they been influenced though, they try to resist, at which point they stuck struggling against a Spell while pointing a weapon they got no intention of using, but the other fella don’t know that, now does it? That’s all it’d take to drive two groups to bloodshed, a single First Order Spell, and I shudder to think what havoc the Proggie will wreak once it figures that one out.
Ain’t nothing I can do about the Mindspire though, which is really the worst part of all this. I hate feeling so helpless and incapable of protecting the people I love, of having to put their safety in someone else’s hands. The Padre is a good enough sort, but he a man of God, not action, so can I really count on him to protect Chrissy, Tina, and Aunty Ray from a bloodthirsty crowd driven to action by the Proggie’s mind manipulating magics? And that’s before accounting for any Abby shenanigans. What if the Proggie throws a Suggestion at the guards to open the gates for a horde of Abby? That’s like a Command on steroids, and I wouldn’t put it past the Guards to follow a Command to jump off the walls, because they all a little lacking in the brains department. A proper Suggestion might well see an army of froggies, doggies, and kippers into the town, and if that happens, I’d be more afraid of the townies than anything Abby might do. Abby I know how to fight, but you can’t fight the townies, nor can you reason with them when they running screaming through the streets instead of playing it smart and taking shelter in the bunkers most of them have.
Maybe I should bring Tina her Model 45’s in the morning. She’s got her 1911’s, but if merhounds and ranakin make it into town, she’ll need that extra Armour Penetrating oomph to punch through their scales. Maybe bring Aunty Ray a Whumper too. Ain’t her favourite or most familiar weapon, but I got no faith in any Aetherarm that can’t punch through armour no more, not after I watched that one froggie eat six shots from the Rattlesnake without even flinching. The Aether Concentration levels are fast approaching that critical level, with the Watershed drawing closer by the day, which means Proggies are getting more and more Aether to empower their Abby spawn, and we gotta adapt to keep up.
Yes sir. The days might feel slow, but the months and years zoom by out here on the Frontier. World’s quickly leaving me behind, so even if it ain’t about being the Firstborn no more, I can’t be slacking neither.
The baby diamondclaw might well be my ticket back to the big leagues though, so I gotta make sure to treat her right. Dressed in my loose, saggy nightclothes, I step out of the bathroom and feel my heartrate spike when I see the house empty and devoid of life. A rustling in my bedroom leads me right to her though, as I find her splayed out on her belly atop my bedsheets. “I see you made yourself at home,” I say, as she cranes her neck back and looks at me with her head almost upside down, which makes her look even sillier and more friendly than she already did. “Least you didn’t tear my sheets,” I say, resisting the urge to just jump into bed beside her, because I ain’t looking to go out like that. Wasn’t planning on letting her in my bed neither, but I ain’t about to tell her to get, so I slowly take a seat beside her instead. She don’t seem all that fussed about me being in her space, so I stroke her head for a solid minute and feel all my tension melting away just from seeing her stretch out and relax in front of me. Spent all day talking to people who were stressed themselves, and that emotional energy got reflected back to me, because that’s just how people are. We empathize, and it sucks sometimes, because empathy and emotions are the enemy of logic, and you better served by logic than emotion in a firefight.
Course, emotion has its place. Logic dictates it’s a stupid idea to sleep next to a wild murder machine with giant swords for hands, but emotion tells me she’s a cutie patootie who I wanna squeeze and cuddle all night. Putting my guns away in the safe, I crack open a window as an afterthought. Not because it’s warm, though it’s getting there now that it’s May. No, I crack open a window because if a diamondclaw tears me apart in my sleep, I don’t want people to wonder how the wild beastie got in. I’d much rather they think it snuck in through the window than know the truth, that I brung that death on myself by snuggling with a dangerous animal, but if the good Lord didn’t want his people snuggling with diamondclaws, then why’d he go and make them so gosh-darned cute?
So I lie down next to the furry murder machine and laugh when she promptly rolls over onto her back and into the crook of my arm. Nestling the top of her head into my shoulder, she looks up at me with her big green eyes almost glowing in the darkness. “Good night,” I whisper, giving her nose a little smooch and her belly a rub for good measure, and I swear she chortles when I do it. Really hope that means she likes it, though it could be a gag reflex from resisting the urge to bite my face off. I’ll blame that last thought on the Mindspire, which wavers in pitch and intensity as I lay there and watch the diamondclaw fall fast asleep. Only when I hear its soft, cadenced snores do I close my eyes too and drift off into lala land right quick.
I can tell right away that it’s gonna be a terrible night’s sleep, as I got a chest burning with rage, a belly churning with indignation, and a heart saddled with regret. All my woes and grudges come welling up in my nightmares, dredging up all my shame and guilt along with. The latest and greatest hits of Howie’s shitshow of a career, starting with how I got my daddy killed, earmarked by how I done the same for Marcus, and ending with how I shot Conner in the back of the head, without so much as giving him a chance. I see it all unfold again, the memories playing out like I’m there in the moment, trying to save my daddy, to warn Marcus about the Proggie, to talk it out with Conner before I shoot him, but no matter how hard I try, it always ends the same way.
In death.
Then it gets worse, as my mind manifests new nightmares to behold. Me standing on the gallows with a hangman’s noose around my neck. The price I pay for my sins, but I don’t get to go easy. Up on the gallows, I got a front row seat to watch a puritanical mob burn down the church with Chrissy, Tina, and Aunty Ray still inside, while the Padre strums his guitar and sings Kumbaya. Uncle Teddy tries to ride in to my rescue, only to get gunned down by the very same Rangers he leads and the people he protects. Noora and Josie are implicated too, whipped in the streets for their dalliance with a criminal, while Deputy Juan flashes his hateful sneer and tells me this is what I deserve for being Qin. Sarah Jay wants to help, but Errol holds her back and watches it happen, acting all holier than thou because this is my just desserts, and the worst part is that he’s right.
None of it is real, I know it even as it all unfolds, but that don’t stop me from getting swept away by it all. Then a weight settles on my chest and holds me in place, and suddenly the world is a whole lot warmer. Softer too, with herbal notes from the forest that I find calming as can be. Throughout it all, the piercing, pitchy drone of the Mindspire’s Dissonant Whistle plays out in the back of my mind, but even that is muted by the weight pressing down upon me. Doesn’t make it any quieter, only more distant, less pounding on my skull and more a faint suggestion of a sensation brushing across the fringes of my perception.
An eternity in the blink of an eye, that’s how it feels when someone tugs on my sleeve and startles me awake. Unwilling to open my eyes, I squeeze them shut and stretch in place, only to remember I got a diamondclaw on my arm pinning me in place. Cracking my neck as I turn away from the weight on my right arm, I run my hand over my face to hide from the morning light and rub my eyes before finally deigning to open them, where I find Chrissy kneeling at my bedside once again while still tugging on the elbow of my sleeve. “Morning Princess,” I say, smiling to see her pale, violet eyes fixated on the diamondclaw beside me. Oddly enough though, she don’t look all that happy or enchanted, her shoulders slumped and chin resting on her other hand as she glares daggers at the still sleeping beastie. Odd considering she loves animals and has issues with boundaries, meaning it wouldn’t have come as any surprise if she’d climbed into my bed and over me to get to the diamondclaw, but maybe this is a sign of her maturity.
Then again, I woke up with Chrissy curled up on the armchair beside me not three days ago, so I wouldn’t put money on that.
“No greeting for me today?” I ask, reaching out to move her long, white locks out of her eyes, only to find her jaw firmly set in a grimace that doesn’t touch her lips.
“Morning Howie.” Though delivered in the same monotone as always, there’s an underlying chill to the words that I ain’t ever heard from her before. Lifting her chin off her hand so she can point at the diamondclaw, she hits me with a glare that ain’t got nothing to do with her expression and everything to do with what’s hidden behind her eyes. “Not allowed.”
“Hmm? Oh, uh, well, you ain’t wrong,” I say, marvelling at how she pieced it all together so quickly. How’d she know I smuggled the diamondclaw in? Maybe because of all the red tape we went through with the kiccaws, which was mostly paperwork we did around the kitchen table. “No worries though, Princess. We’ll take this big girl to your mama and talk it through first. After we make a decision, then we can take her down to get her papers and – ”
The words freeze in my throat as I turn to glance at the diamondclaw, only to find a stranger in bed beside me. A stunning, copper-skinned beauty with a thick head of brown hair highlighted in green that goes all the way down past her curvy hips that is the only thing covering her supple, athletic frame. Takes me a moment to process it all, and another to drink it in, unable to tear my eyes away from her soft, angelic features, sensuous curves, and long, shapely legs pressed so closely against me as she snuggles up from atop my blankets and shivers in the cold morning air. Though her mouth is buried against my shoulder, her eyes pop open when I turn to face her, stunning emerald orbs that don’t just drink in the light, but reflect it back all chock full of trust and innocence. Then she raises her head and smiles to reveal a mouth full of perfect teeth and three long, thin, triangular emerald markings on each cheek. Like whiskers almost, or maybe fangs painted on and pointed inwards, and it’s rather fetching to behold, though not fetching enough to keep the panic at bay.
“What the fu – ”
Bolting away so quickly I fall off of the bed, I twist mid roll to avoid hitting Chrissy. Landing on the back of my head, I grunt, groan, and keep rolling until I’m sitting on the ground. Looking aggrieved as can be, the copper-skinned beauty pouts and props herself up on my bed, unabashedly showing off her pert and shapely assets as she crawls on all fours towards me. “Woah,” I shout, raising an arm to cover my eyes even though I’d love nothing more than to drink in the sight, but not with Chrissy right beside me. “Cover yourself up, lady.” My unconvincing demand does nothing to the stranger from sliding off the bed and into my chest, though I will admit I don’t do much to stop her. Letting out another whimper, she hugs me tight and I can’t help but hug her back as she seats her willowy frame on my lap, with her arms wrapped around my shoulders and knees curled up to her chest.
“No sleepovers,” Chrissy says, which is not at all helpful. “Not allowed.”
“What in tarnation is all the fuss about?” Poking her head through the doorway, Tina’s big blues go wide with alarm even as her cheeks flush with colour. “Howie! You randy goat!” Stomping in and stepping over the corner of my bed, because that’s the only way to get around my desk, Tina grabs Chrissy by the wrist and pulls her to her feet. “For shame,” she says, hitting me with the angriest glare I done ever seen from her times ten. “What are you thinking, behaving like that in front of Chrissy?”
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
“Not allowed,” Chrissy says once more, to really hammer home the fact.
“This ain’t what it looks like.” Why does that always sound like a lie when I say it, even though it’s always the truth? The green-haired girlie in question don’t seem none too fussed by all the yelling, just wiggles in my lap and buries her face deeper into my shoulder which doesn’t help my argument. Seeing this, Tina huffs, harrumphs, and stomps out with Chrissy in tow, who glances back with pressed lips to really let me have it. “Seriously,” I shout, hoping they can still hear me. “Come back. How am I supposed to get her dressed?”
The front door slams behind them, followed by the sound of a boot thumping against the door as Tina gives it a kick for good measure. Rude is what that is, but I let it slide, because I can hear her stomping off back home to spill the beans to Aunty Ray. No chance I can get ahead of this now, so I hoist the green-haired girlie up and unceremoniously dump her on the bed after I make sure there’s no diamondclaw hiding under the sheets. Girl hits me with the most doleful and heart wrenching pout I done ever seen, but that might be because I’ve never gotten one from a naked beauty before. Looks around my age, unless she’s a real early bloomer seeing how she got all them… feminine charms. And height, though she looks even taller being slender as she is, with a good amount of meat on her frame, just not a lot of fat. Gives her lithe and shapely look about her, like an elegant dancer as opposed to Sarah Jay’s female linebacker build or Tina’s hourglass figure.
Both very lovely women, and exceedingly feminine to behold, but there’s something about this green-haired girlie’s tender, almost dainty appearance that makes me want to hug and hold her close.
Resisting the urge for all I’m worth, I help her wrap the blanket around her shoulders while fending off her surprisingly strong arms which she tries to wrap around my neck again. Not in an aggressive way; she just wants to cuddle again, and much as I would too, it’d be unseemly to do that with a stranger who snuck into my bed. A very naked stranger without so much as a stitch of clothing, though she got a necklace with a couple carved animal figures strung around her neck. A horse, a bunny, and a diamondclaw too, as well as a few other animals I don’t look at too closely.
Speaking of which… “You seen a diamondclaw anywhere?” I ask, scurrying away to the bedroom door once I got the stranger mostly covered. No baby murder machine in the living room and kitchen area, and my daddy’s bedroom door is still closed. Bathroom is empty too, which is when the adrenaline really starts spiking, because now I got a diamondclaw on the loose. “About yay long, a buck fifty, white fur and honking big claws?” The girlie don’t answer, just sits up and pouts with the blanket draped loosely around her shoulders, utterly unashamed of her nudity, and though I do my damnedest to mind my manners, I can’t help but check if the carpet matches the drapes.
They do, and a fine, well-kept, lovely carpet it is…
Not much of a talker though, so I stop gawking and ask, “Hello? Diamondclaw? Yes? No?” Rather than answer, she slumps down and gives me a little mewling whine instead, and only now does it click that something ain’t right. Redirecting my attention away from the missing beastie, I take a beat to focus on my unexpected guest instead, who’s sitting there looking sad, scared, and oh so miserable as can be. “Can you understand me?” I ask, and finally, I get a response, a begrudging nod given as she curls up on the bed. “Can you speak?” Again, she nods, but doesn’t say a peep, so I ask, “Will you? Say something that is. Anything. Anything at all.” Silence, but she do look thoughtful, so I try and help her out. “Could be, ‘Hello’, or ‘Good morning’. Maybe state your name? What you doing here?”
“Bonjour Howie,” she says, giving me a shy little smile from inside her bundle of blanket. “Je m'appelle Elodie.”
French. Like Carter’s people. Everything comes together as the pieces fall into place, and my mind whirls at all the implications. Seemingly outrageous ones that I can’t wrap my head around, which is why I can’t think of nothing else to say. Thankfully, a knock sounds at the door and I’m saved from having to continue the conversation, so I head over in my jammies to see who it is and find Carter and a lovely, copper-skinned, green-haired woman standing at my doorstep. “Hey boss,” I say, opening the door and stepping back to let them both in while gesturing at Elodie standing in my bedroom doorway. “Uh… I think I found your missin’ hog.”
Which is most certainly the wrong thing to say, but I don’t figure that out until a few seconds later when I find myself staring at the ceiling. Then Carter’s face appears before me, his jaw clenched and eyes all full of fury. “You son of a bitch,” he growls, cocking his arm back for another punch, and it’s all I can do to raise my arms and shield myself.
“Stop!” A pulse of Aether thrums through the air as Aunty Ray’s Command hits Carter hard and freezes him in place. The woman beside him turns on Aunty Ray with a snarl, who hits back with an icy cold look that’s got me quivering in my boots. For long seconds, neither woman gives ground though, because they both guarding their babies, Chrissy and Tina standing outside the door and Elodie who leaves the blanket behind as she bounds over to stand between me and her daddy. The man looks ready to rearrange the bones in my face, so I do my best to keep my eyes from wandering anywhere they shouldn’t as Aunty Ray’s Command wears off.
Opting to protect his daughter’s dignity rather than cave in my face, Carther brings her aside to fetch the blanket. “Papa,” the girlie says, in a silky-smooth French accent. “Ne sois pas en colère. Il m'a sauvé la vie.” Don’t be angry, he saved my life pretty much, so good on her for getting the facts straight. “Et je suis allée au lit avec lui volontairement.”
Carter whips around like he ready to hit me again, and I can hardly blame him considering his daughter just told him she went to bed with me willingly. “Hang on a tick!” I say, crab-walking my way back towards the door. “You ain’t telling it right girlie, so lemme explain. We slept together, but not in the biblical sense. Just caught some zees while lyin’ side by side.”
Credit where it’s due, Carter doesn’t let the hammer drop, but his neck do pulse as the veins popout to say hello. “And you think that makes this alright? That is my daughter!”
“In my defense, you the one who called her a hog first, remember?” Can’t help but be flippant, because my head is still spinning from the hit. Carter’s got one hell of a right hook on him. Surprised all my teeth are still intact.
“You knew though,” he says, all but snarling as the words come out, but he backs off just enough to give me room to breathe and goes back to wrapping Elodie in the blanket. “You knew I wasn’t telling the truth, knew we we’re looking for her, and stole her away for what? A laugh?”
“What are you goin’ on about?” Pushing myself back up onto my feet, I brush myself off and say, “Boss, I ain’t as smart as you think I am. I didn’t know you was lookin’ for her until I pieced it all together some five seconds before you knocked on my door.”
That gets his gears going, and Carter steps forward to poke me in the chest, with a finger that feels like solid steel at that. “You covered your tracks! You tried to hide her from us, and we only found her because… How do you explain that, huh?”
“Well,” I drawl, rubbing the soon to be bruise on my chest and gesturing for Aunty Ray to back down, “I thought I was bringing home a baby diamondclaw, and didn’t want no mama diamondclaw comin’ after me.”
There it is, the hammer drop, as Carter blinks before glancing at his shapeshifting daughter, who’s still naked as the day she was born and none too concerned about who sees it as she exchanges whispers with her mama and makes eyes at me. Retreating to stand beside her, Carter pulls the blanket around his daughter to cover her better as the anger melts off him like a discarded cloak. “That’s… reasonable,” he says, having pieced things together in a way that makes sense. Heaving a sigh, he slips his arm around his daughter and wife, while we stand there and let the silence speak volumes for our current mood.
That’s what I like about Carter. Now that he gets what happened, he’s just glad his daughter is safe, so ain’t nothing more that needs to be said. I’m of the same mind, ready to see him off with a nod and a shrug before putting everything behind us. Ain’t enough for Aunty Ray though, who stands at the doorway with her fists on her hips and says, “Well? Best one of you start singing, else I’m gonna start asking questions.”
Takes a little convincing, but Aunty Ray allows me a stay of execution so me and Elodie can get decent. Lend her some clothes from my dresser which look like they’d fit, and I come out a minute later fully dressed for the day. She looks much better in my clothes than I do, which are a little snug on her lithe and shapely frame, and got a bright smile for me when she catches me looking. Gives back the socks I lent her to wear and strides out the front door all barefoot and cheery as can be. Neither one of her parents care to coddle her much, and seem content to let her run free, and free run the green-haired beauty does as she bounds over the ranch to see what all the wallies and kiccaws are about. There’s a light-hearted liveliness to which Elodie approaches things, a blissful innocence and casual indifference about her that makes her seem younger than her years. Got no sense of shame or impropriety about her as she lays on her belly to greet the kiccaws and pops up into a squat to greet the wallies eye to eye. Mirrors their posture even, with her head tilted to the side and arms bent like a bunny as she bounces about for a bit, hippity hopping back and forth along the fence while the wallies swarm over to say hi and stretch their little paws out through the slat in a desperate effort to clasps hands.
And she’s happy to oblige, shaking the paws of each and every wally one by one while Aunty Ray marches us over to her place, where she’s got a hot pot of coffee ready to pour. Once we all got a seat at the table and a mug to cradle, I tell it like it is from start to finish, while Elodie chimes in to fill in the blanks. I get the feeling she’s a little simple same as Chrissy. Elodie’s well spoken, in a direct and forthright manner, but she leaves out details along the way, so we gotta all stop and ask her very specific questions to figure it all out.
Far as I can tell, Elodie got spooked by the Fear Spell from the Mindspire sent out just before I arrived at the compound, then took off into the lake and swam away to safety as a sea lion, whatever that is. Went out into the deep waters, then came back to the coast where she found a nice, calm shallow area of water to rest in, whereupon she fell asleep after her harrowing ordeal which really took a lot out of her. When she woke up, there was a nice round boy standing over by the shore, who offered her some candies to eat which she accepted. While stark naked and human mind you, which is funny to hear, since that means I had Kevin dead to rights. No wonder he looked so forlorn when I arrived, because I scared off the pretty naked girlie, albeit one who wasn’t a figment of his imagination like I suspected it might be.
That little tidbit gets Carter real heated, and I refrain from cackling and saying he done punched the wrong man, which only goes to show I do know how to be circumspect.
I just choose not to most of the time.
So after I spooked Elodie away the second time, she swam back out into the lake again, because I guess she feels safe out there. Wasn’t ready to go home yet though, because she was just having too much fun, so she swam around a little longer until her head started hurting, at which point she went back to land and shifted into a diamondclaw. Couldn’t explain why she did it when asked, even though I already know the answer, because the natural Spell Resistance blocks out the Mindspire, which I suppose she knew on instinct, but not fact. Once she was back on land again, she went shuffling off into the forest in search of some food since she hadn’t eaten anything besides candy all day, and eventually ran into a pack of Abby and was subsequently saved by yours truly.
Or you know. Not. I’m pretty sure she could’ve torn that whole band of Abby apart without taking a scratch, but then again, you never know with Abby.
From there, I pick up the slack to tell the rest of the story, because Elodie’s statements are none too helpful. She’s prone to saying things that are factually true yet sound wholly reprehensible without context, like how I kissed her nose, wiped her down, rubbed her belly, and hugged her tightly all night long. Which is why I find myself having to state that she was a diamondclaw multiple times, an important point of contention that everyone else seems to accept with little more than a shrug.
When all’s said and done, I got an empty mug in front of me while Aunty Ray’s got her head in her hands and fingers pinching the sapphire teardrop in her forehead without even noticing. “So,” she begins, heaving a long and tired sigh, “You found what you thought was a young and wild diamondclaw, smuggled it into the city, brought it home to your bed, fell asleep next to it, then woke up with that girlie laid out beside you. That about the long and short of it?”
Sounds real stupid when you lay it all out like that, but the truth ain’t much better, so I shrug, nod, and say, “Yea, but wasn’t like I jumped straight to ‘snuggle the murder beastie’ from the get go. I was gonna leave her out in the forest, but Cowie wouldn’t have it. Besides, you didn’t see how cute she was. Look.”
Grabbing Chrissy’s music/picture box which she left sitting on the table, I touch the storage crystal and upload the Photos I took before displaying them for everyone to look at. Stifling a little cry, Aunty Ray’s hands go to her mouth as her eyes fill with tears, and for a second, I’m stuck wondering how a mini diamondclaw hugging a kiccaw could ever be so frightening. “Oh she’s so cute,” Aunty Ray says, crying her heart out as she looks at the darling image. “What you calling that a diamondclaw for? That there is a sloth!”
Sloth? That’s a stupid name for an animal. Be like calling a bunny lust, or marties pride. “Well, that’s after it’s been minified, and even then, it’s still a baby.”
“Elodie is not a baby,” she declares, showing she can both speak and understand English. “Elodie is seventeen!”
Thank the Lord for that, because things would be so much worse if she were younger. Aunty Ray don’t miss a beat though, sending Elodie out with Chrissy and Tina out to play with the wallies, while insisting I start calling diamondclaws ‘megasloths’ instead, but I ain’t about that. They’re diamondclaws, and that’s that.
Soon as she ready to move on, Aunty Ray turns to Carter and Amelie and says, “Well, I apologize for the mix up. Seems clear to me our Howie done some things he shouldn’t have, and should’ve known things he didn’t.”
“It is not entirely his fault,” Carter generously says, while his wife gives a little huff from the side. “Cowie and Elodie have become fast friends these last few weeks, and I intentionally hid the fact that my daughter was missing, for reasons you might understand.”
“I’ll say.” Scoffing as I reach for more coffee, I add, “I gotta ask though. How does she turn into a diamondclaw? Polymorph? That’s a Fourth Order Spell though, so I don’t get how that’s even possible.”
Carter looks to his wife, who gives him a shrug and leaves everything up to him. The strong, silent type, this miss Amelie, so much so she makes Carter seem like a chatty Cathy in comparison. Heaving a sigh, Carter takes a moment to gather his thoughts and explains, “She’s not using a Fourth Order Spell. It’s a It’s a Second Order Spell called Wildshape.”
“Conjuration, instead of Transmutation,” Aunty Ray supplies, showing she done cottoned on to whatever is going on here.
“Yes,” Carter says, nodding along. “There are a few significant differences between the two Spells, the first of which being that Polymorph can be cast on other targets to take whatever shape the caster desires, whereas Wildshape can only be cast on yourself with a specific form. Secondly, you are not transforming yourself into the beast, so much as summoning it out into the world from within.”
“What?”
After a bit more back and forth, I think I finally got the gist of the Spell, which sounds fascinating to be sure. Polymorph is all about shapeshifting, but no matter what you turn into, it’s still just you in a fancy new Ecto suit. Say I turn myself into a bird, I still gotta learn how to fly, which ain’t as simple a task as just flapping your wings, no matter how easy them birdies make it look. Same for knowing how to move, jump, run, or climb, which really limits how useful the Polymorph Spell can be, since it don’t really matter if you can turn into a diamondclaw if you don’t know how to scratch your butt without carving off a piece of your hide.
Wildshape fixes that lack of knowledge by introducing a Bestial Spirit into the mix, one which allows the caster to… be more in tune with the shape they take. The Spirit is similar to what you’d need to Conjure up a Summon. You take a totem, like the carved totems in Elodie’s necklace, and imbue it with the Spirit of the creature you intend to summon, except instead of giving it a fresh new body separate from your own, you Summon it up within you. Or sort of, as there are some metaphysical hijinks going on there wherein your body gets shunted off to the Immaterium while the summoned creature’s body replaces it, but that’s beyond my ken for now. The important thing is that once the Spell is done and dusted, you got yourself an animal body with an animal spirit who knows all the ins and outs of its body, meaning it understands how to be a diamondclaw without the caster having to learn those things fresh.
Which sounds great, except that the caster’s mind and the bestial Spirit are inhabiting that same vessel, which can lead to a bit of a mental conflict. While the Spell is in effect, the caster is essential both human and animal in one mind, with all the logic and reasoning of a person, but also the ingrained instincts and desires of an animal. Most deal with it well enough, but inexperienced casters can lose themselves in the animalistic nature of the beast and end up forgetting they’re a person, or worse, allow the beast to bleed through even after the Spell ends and they’re human again.
“Elodie was too young when she came into the Spell,” Carter continues, explaining why his daughter didn’t just shift back into a person the second she knew she was safe. “So she never learned how to separate herself from the beast. She gives herself wholly over to the Spirit, becomes a combination of human and animal that is both more and less at the same time.”
“Sounds… dangerous,” I say, treading lightly because this seems like shaky ground.
“It can be,” miss Amelie says, her sultry, French accent sounding so cool and aloof. “Without harmony of the spirits, there is risk of the animal taking control and turning the caster… feral. Our ancestors had names for these fallen shifters, names I will not speak, but the most common one loosely translates to ‘that which goes on all fours’.”
“Most folks back home called ‘em skin-walkers,” Aunty Ray supplies, and while Carter and his wife wince to hear it, they both subtly nod to acknowledge the term. Which is good, because ‘that which goes on all fours’ is too much of a mouthful to say.
“That is not my Elodie,” Carter interjects, before any of us can ask. “When she shifts into her new skin, she becomes what she is, and forgets that others cannot see her true self.” Giving me a glare, he explains, “Though you interacted with her as though she was a beast, she saw it as a normal exchange between a man and woman, so I will ask that you work with me to… smooth over any misunderstandings.”
“Sure thing boss.”
While I sweat over how I kissed his daughter and wiped her butt, Carter says, “That is why we claimed a homestead so close to New Hope. It is a struggle to maintain harmony between man and beast, so it was our hope that by interacting with other people more often, we could then become more grounded in our humanity.”
“I see.” Carter’s here busy trying to explain away his reasoning, but I don’t need no selling on the Spell. Much easier to keep yourself warm and fed when you got animal senses, instincts, and a warm coat of fur to boot, or a belly strong enough to eat almost any sort of vegetation you might find. As for me, I’m already exploring the implications of the Spell, because Wildshape sounds like a real doozy. “Is it possible to Wildshape into another person?” I ask, eager to hear the answer. “Or you know, myself, only with both hands?”
Though the question seems innocuous enough, miss Amelie hisses and makes some motions like she’s warding off evil. Carter is more helpful, as he responds with actual words. “Possible, yes, but forbidden with good reason. Wildshaping requires the Caster to possess an in depth understanding of the form it wishes to take, as well as a Spirit Totem of the beast to guide your actions.” Giving me a look that says he knows where this is going, he continues, “Though human-like summons are possible, it is forbidden to Wildshape into one, for the same reasons why caution is required of any caster who Wildshapes. An animal Spirit is difficult enough to co-exist with. A human Spirit will drive the caster to madness without fail. They are the worst of the Skin-walkers, the truly depraved monsters in human flesh.”
“Was a famous cannibal serial killer back in the old world who’d wear the faces of his kills,” Aunty Ray interjects, shuddering as she hugs her arms close. “Came back from the war and went on a cross-country killing spree. Would kill someone, eat most of their bodies, then pose as them for the next leg of the trip. Managed to fool at least three of the victim’s spouses and continue on like nothing happened until they up and left to kill some more.” Eyeing Carter and Amelie with a wary gaze, Aunty Ray adds, “That’s why the Spell’s been banned by the Geneva Convention since shortly after the Second World War.”
“Which makes it illegal to use in warfare, not every day life,” Carter says, defending his use of the Spell. “And while Federal Law lists Wildshape as a restricted Spell, as descendants of the Diné, we are exempt from the restrictions since the Spell is a part of our heritage. Even then, we do our best not to flaunt our abilities, though Elodie has yet to understand why.”
I don’t make no mention of the other members of his community who are clearly not of the Diné, or any other Native American tribe for that matter. Ain’t my place to uphold the law, and I ain’t the biggest fan of Spell restrictions to begin with. “Well, we won’t say nothing about your Wildshaping,” I say, after checking with Aunty Ray. “So long as there ain’t nothin’ that needs to be said. Get me?” Carter nods and smiles, while his beautiful wife beams to hear it. “Stay for a meal,” I add, getting up to go help with the cooking since I made the offer. “And maybe think about bringing your people in to take shelter at the church.”
“No, we should get going.”
Never one to waste time on social niceties, Carter heads for the front door without so much as a good bye. While he’s putting on his shoes though, a thought strikes me, and I can’t help but ask, “Say… that ugly horse. He wouldn’t happen to be one of your people, would he?”
Carter’s ghost of a smile is all the answer I need, and I groan to see it. “Raya was most displeased to hear you call him ugly,” the man says, and I don’t have it in me to ask about any other animals. Not here and now at least, so we all file out to say goodbye. Elodie looks right sad to hear it, and asks something in French, which I don’t entirely understand. Aunty Ray does though, because she speaks perfect French, but she don’t translate for me and just stands there with a forced smile.
“She asked if she will be leaving with us, or staying here with… her husband,” Carter says, clearly kicking the ball over into my court, and my heart aches to see Elodie making eyes at me from beside him. The sweet, guileless girl thinks sleeping together is something only husbands and wives do, and she means it in the literal sense, so the fact that we fell asleep in the same bed must mean we married now. It’d almost be endearing if it wasn’t so sad, for a girl of seventeen to still be so sheltered and childish, so I step forward and play the villain while explaining why we ain’t actually married and how she can’t stay.
All while I’m feeling a little heartbroken myself, having done lost my pet diamondclaw. Cruel is what that is, to have my dreams shattered mere hours after I got the notion to have them, and I might never love another fluffy murder machine ever again. No, I’mma stick with Cowie from here on out, my tried-and-true partner who ain’t never let me down. Howie and Cowie against the world, that’s how it’s always been, and from here on out, I ain’t ever gonna forget that ever again.