As a rule, June rarely tried to eat until she was full, and had never completely stuffed herself since Shifting, so she didn’t know what to expect. Surely though, after the two packages of hotdogs, it wouldn’t take that much. Still, she had more butterflies in her stomach than she’d ever felt before a test at school. She looked to Brendan, seated next to her at the polished dining room table, and he nodded. His eyes beamed.

On the table in front of her, heaped on two large white plates, was more meat than she’d seen in her life, enough meat to easily feed a family of eight. Dr. Chase sat directly across from her and watched her curiously.

“So, June, what kind of cat are you, exactly?” Dr. Chase ventured.

“A werecat,” Brendan interjected.

Looking at Brendan, Dr. Chase smiled like he’d bitten a lemon.

June grabbed the fork and knife and ate several bites of the veal. She eyed Dr. Chase. Idiot though he might be, he could certainly cook. Or maybe meat just tasted better to her since Shifting—raw meat certainly tasted good, but hot dogs weren’t exactly a fair measure when it came to cooked cuisine. Finally she said, “I don't know. A few kinds, I guess.” She took a larger bite.

Dr. Chase nodded excitedly. “Fascinating! And how long have you been able to, eh—transform?”

“I’m a Shifter, not a transformer.” Her bites were coming more quickly now. They needed to get on with the investigation.

“Remarkable.” Dr. Chase rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “May I assume your mother is aware of this?”

June remained silent and continued to eat. She closed her eyes and relished the taste—it really was delicious.

At length, Dr. Chase said, “Right. You know, if you allowed me to run some tests, I could—”

“Out of the question,” June said firmly. She looked down and realized the veal had nearly disappeared. She’d eaten that much already? She paused to take stock of her tummy; she didn’t feel full yet.

“Quite right then, understandable, really,” Dr. Chase said. He nodded agreeably as if he hadn’t just asked the question.

June finished the veal and turned to the lamb. Fantastic. If her stomach could talk, she guessed it would be thanking her.

“You are just stunning, really,” Dr. Chase said with admiration. He looked off into the distance for a bit before he spoke again.

June felt a warmth in her cheeks at the compliment. Between the meat and the flattery, June found she was softening on her long-standing desire to see Dr. Chase suffer physical harm.

She noticed Brendan never took his eyes off Dr. Chase, except to nod and smile at her every so often. He did not stare or watch her eat. She could have hugged him again.

“So, eh, how did this happen to you?” Dr. Chase asked. “I recall stories from my boyhood that spoke of people transformed into, eh, creatures, as a curse—”

June dropped her fork and knife and they clattered loudly onto the empty veal plate. “You think this is a curse?”

Dr. Chase squirmed in his chair, and Brendan looked like he was fighting back laughter.

“Oh no, of course not, my dear, you are magnificent,” Dr. Chase stammered. “I was just remarking that legends and myths—”

“Aren’t you a scientist?” June asked, raising an eyebrow at him. She picked up her silverware and continued with the lamb. Her tummy was finally starting to feel full.

Dr. Chase cocked his head. “The best,” he answered stiffly. “Right up there with your brilliant mum, of course. And being a distinguished scientist, and using scientific principles, I would hypothesize that your condition”—June gave him a frown—“I mean your ability, has to do with genetics.”

June continued to eat silently. The maroon walls in the dining room and the brass chandelier overhead seemed used to silence—she didn’t imagine Dr. Chase had company over often, if ever. Maybe he acted so obnoxious because he was lonely.

Dr. Chase nodded knowingly. “I find it to be very curious that you, June, the daughter of a renowned geneticist, have this remarkable genetic ability.”

She gave him a passing glance and went back to cutting and chewing.

Dr. Chase studied her. “And being that your ability is likely the result of genetics, I would also hypothesize that your mother is quite aware of your condition.”

June met his eyes. “What happened to Cordelia after I left the lab this morning?”

“Happened to her? Why, she told the police you melted down like a toddler—threw a chair at the ceiling and then used that same chair to shatter the window and make your escape. Blamed it on teenage hormones, as a matter of fact.” He snickered. “She even managed to convince the officers not to go after you.”

This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

June let a smirk twist her mouth. It was a clever lie, but Cordelia probably had to sit and explain it to Detective Abernathy, which meant she likely blessed his heart again before the conversation finally ended.

Dr. Chase cleared his throat loudly and picked up where he’d left off. “Now, I might next hypothesize that, since you are walking around with a Geiger counter, this missing vial you asked about emits radiation, yes?”

This time June nodded. Maybe Dr. Chase wasn’t entirely incompetent.

“Indeed. And since you, June, are out looking for this radioactive vial that was taken from the lab, it must have something to do with you and your ability—”

June almost choked, and coughed loudly several times. She put her fork down next to the last few slivers of lamb on the plate—hardly enough for three more bites.

Dr. Chase leaned back in his seat, looking at June now like she was a math problem he’d just figured out. “You know, June, you have just eaten a staggering amount of food.”

Brendan shot to his feet and pointed at Dr. Chase. “Hey, don’t you—” but then he appeared to realize he was standing and pointing at an adult, and his demeanor changed. He lowered his pointing arm to his side and wrapped his other arm across his body. He lowered his eyes to the table as well. “Uh, you better—er, watch what you say,” he said as he sat down meekly.

Dr. Chase watched him with an entirely unconcerned and amused look on his face, his eyebrows so high they threatened to blend with his hairline.

June smiled at Brendan. She leaned back in her chair and basked in a satisfaction she hadn’t felt in a long time, and certainly hadn’t felt since Shifting—the satisfaction of a full stomach. Her gaze fell to her legs and Cordelia’s voice echoed in her head: You know your clothes hardly fit anymore. The hollow feeling started in the pit of her tummy and crept upward. No, she told herself, it doesn’t matter. Her eyes shot to Brendan, who had his eyes narrowed at Dr. Chase. I’ll always have Brendan, no matter what I look like…right? She clung to that thought, and slowly the hollowness faded.

“Shall we continue our questions now?” Dr. Chase asked.

“Actually,” June replied, wiping her mouth with a napkin, “we’ll be leaving. You can go right back to tanning yourself.”

His mouth turned down at the corners. “But I thought I was to help you apprehend the thief?”

“You have—you’ve given me clothes and fed me.”

Dr. Chase opened his mouth and held up a finger as if he was going to protest, then stopped and appeared to think better of it. He slouched in his seat. “Where are you going, might I ask? You could at least tell me that much.”

June looked out of the solitary dining room window. She could see the dark outline of the towering oak tree in the backyard, silent and still. It reminded her she needed to leave food out back for Catriel and Cairistine, and she informed Dr. Chase of his new obligation to feed the stray cats.

Her thoughts turned to Aunt Violet. It would be nice to see her and make sure she was okay. But if Aunt Violet asked questions about June running from the lab, what could she say? She got so upset that she, June, as a normal girl, smashed the ceiling and broke a window with a chair, then ran into the woods? That was the story Cordelia had given everyone, apparently. Then again, if Aunt Violet heard what Cordelia had done with Richard, forcing him to leave and lying to June about it, she’d probably understand why June could be so mad that she ran out of a window.

“You heard her, you’re staying here—” Brendan was saying.

“Aunt Violet’s,” June interjected.

Both Brendan and Dr. Chase faced her with similar expressions of surprise.

“June—” Brendan started.

“Violet? Violet Langley?” Dr. Chase cut in. “You know, Dr. Langley has been behaving quite strangely all week.”

“How so?” June and Brendan asked in unison. “Jinx!” they yelled together.

“Oh, good heavens,” Dr. Chase hissed, “can I speak? She was being quite furtive and skittish, and I often caught her talking to that new Burmese she recently obtained. Rather absurd to be talking to animals if you ask me.”

Brendan nodded like he was a windup toy, and said, “Talking to animals, June,” with a heavy emphasis on each word.

June scowled—she understood what he meant, but Aunt Violet couldn’t possibly be a Shifter or a demon, so she’d have no way of actually talking to snakes.

Dr. Chase held his arms outward, palms up, in a pleading gesture. “I have a proposal for you to consider.”

June eyed him suspiciously; she noticed Brendan did the same.

“How about I drive you to your next destination? It will be faster than just walking.” He tried to give a convincing grin.

“Oh, we aren’t walking,” June said. “We’ve got it from here.”

Dr. Chase huffed. Then he glanced down at the empty plates and a genuine grin appeared. “You don’t want to go cramping up, do you? You ate so much, it’s inevitable that your stomach will seize right up if you go running about. Let me drive you while your meal digests, my dear.”

June paused. Could he be right? She’d never tried running around, Shifted, right after stuffing herself full. She remembered trying to swim on a full stomach when she was seven and almost drowning. If she got tummy cramps while running, or worse, in mid-air, with Brendan on her back, it could be disastrous.

“Do you have a car that will fit all of us?” she asked.

“As long as we’re all, eh, human, then yes.”

Brendan looked like a blood vessel in his face might burst at any second. “I really don't think we should—”

“Good," June spoke over him. "Do you know where she lives?”

Dr. Chase nodded. “I know precisely where she resides. Be right back in a jiffy, I need to get a bag.”

“Why?” Brendan asked a little more loudly than the situation called for.

“I thought I’d bring redundancies of clothing, you know, in case you, eh—” he turned to June and made an awkward claw with his hands, “and perhaps some sustenance, since it seems as though your sidekick failed to pack enough for you.”

Brendan’s eyes became narrow knives aimed at Dr. Chase. A vein on his forehead stood out, pulsing.

Dr. Chase ran out of the room.

“He’s still an idiot,” June said to Brendan. He visibly softened and his forehead returned to normal.

“I know, right?” He tilted the plates on the table sideways so all the juice ran out and spread. “That’ll leave a stain,” he said with a smirk.

June watched him with fascination; she’d never seen Brendan do something so willfully malicious. But the puddled red liquid reminded her of the red message on the glass wall at the lab. An antique grandfather clock nearby showed 10:15 pm. They needed to hurry.

Dr. Chase reappeared a minute later holding a brown leather duffel bag, which smelled intrusively of moth balls. The smell broke her train of thought and she pinched her nose. She noticed the bag was an unusual size; she estimated it was only twelve inches long. Kind of short and stumpy for a duffel bag.

With much protest, Dr. Chase left a sizable portion of turkey sandwich meat on the back steps of the house, and led June and Brendan to the garage. When Brendan saw Dr. Chase’s car, he let out a short laugh. “It’s better than any pun I could come up with here.”

Dr. Chase actually grinned too. “Indeed. A bit on the nose perhaps, but I’ve had my eyes on this new black Jaguar for several months and just had to snatch it up.”