It’s not until my panicked tears are drying that I notice something. The icy cold feeling from before, that freezing energy that overtook my body when I changed, is starting to subside. My hands are starting to feel normal again, and when I look down, I’m shocked to see that my nails are retracting back into my fingers, my skin beginning to go back to its normal color. And there’s more; the scaly patches crawling up my arms are disappearing back into my skin, absorbed under the surface. I touch my canines, which are already returning to the length they were before. I run a hand through my hair and pull a strand into the light, seeing my blonde locks back. Glancing behind me at the dirty window one more time, I see that, as far as appearances, I’m back to normal again.
Okay. So it wasn’t permanent… whatever it was. That doesn’t make me feel a whole lot better, though; I felt the same thing back at the house, after Mark tried to hit me. It didn’t escalate this far that time, but it’s proof enough for my scared, sleep-deprived mind that if something else happens to trigger it, it will happen again. And I don’t know how to prevent it.
I’m just beginning to rifle around in my backpack for my cell phone, wondering if there’s anyone I can turn to for advice, when there’s a loud booming noise on the other side of the warehouse. It sounds a bit like a firecracker going off--a short, loud crack that pierces the air and nearly makes me jump out of my skin. This is followed by the sound of footsteps scuffing on the concrete, and I can make out two figures in the shadows. For a moment I panic again, thinking that it must be the two men. They came back, I think, eyes widening. They came back; they brought their friends, and I’m back to normal. I’m dead.
But then the footsteps approach and I’m able to make out two figures, svelte and feminine. Women. Did the others send them?
“Hello?” I call, my voice unsteady. “Who’s there?”
Eventually the moonlight illuminates them more easily, and I see immediately that they don’t look normal, the same way I didn’t look normal a few minutes ago. Their skin is a deep ruby red, similar to the way mine was, and their eyes and hair are pitch black.
I gasp, scrambling back, and the women look at each other for a moment. Then they’re changing, too, as easily as taking off an article of clothing, their skin going pale and their skin and eyes going back to looking normal. They look human now…not whatever they actually are.
“Sorry to have frightened you,” the first one says, continuing to move forward until she’s standing in front of me. The other one hangs back, crossing her arms over her chest.
“What…” I’m at a loss for words for a moment, and then the questions start to tumble out all at once. “What is this? How did you do that? Who are you?”
“Millie Brix,” the first woman says, “we’ve been looking for you.”
Chapter 4
I stare at her in shock, the fact that I just watched her body transform the same way mine did is temporarily forgotten. “I… How do you know my name?” I ask.
“We’ve been keeping an eye on you for a while,” the woman responds, extending a hand to me. “My name is Samantha Goldstein.” Tentatively, I reach out and shake her hand, feeling numb. Samantha gestures to the other woman, who still hasn’t said anything. “This is my colleague, Josie Everhart.”
The other woman gives me a thin smile. “Pleasure to meet you, Ms. Brix,” she says quietly.
“You too,” I say, fully aware of how absurd this situation is. I’m standing in an abandoned warehouse, having just turned into some kind of fire-breathing monster, and now I’m greeting two other mutant women like it’s the most normal thing in the world. I turn back to Samantha. “What do you mean, you’ve been keeping an eye on me? Are you from the foster agency? Is this about what happened with Mark?”
Samantha beckons to Josie, who wordlessly walks over to join us. “Why don’t we sit down for a while? We have quite a bit to go over with you and believe me when I say I think you’re going to want to be sitting down when we tell you this.”
“Are you serious?” I ask. “You just show up and… and transform like that, and now you want to sit down with me and chat? What’s going on? What do you want with me?”
“Ms. Brix,” says Josie, gesturing at the now-forgotten cardboard sheet on the floor, “please.”
I look from one woman to the other, eyeing them suspiciously. Samantha is a statuesque blonde, while Josie has dark skin and the face of a supermodel. I don’t see malice in their eyes, even though I have no idea who they are or where they came from. For a moment I hesitate, debating making a break for it, but I push the idea away. I still have no idea where I’ll go, and something tells me that these women might be my only hope for figuring out what’s wrong with me.
Slowly, I sit back down, still clutching my backpack to my chest like it’s a lifeline. The other women follow suit, taking a seat on the cardboard and crossing their legs. For a minute I have the absurd feeling that I’m back in kindergarten again, sitting in a circle with the teachers as I wait for them to start the day’s story.
Samantha eyes me for a moment before starting to speak, looking like she’s choosing her words carefully. “Something happened to you just now,
