Shift Happens(54)
“O’Donnell.” I smiled without turning around. His fera familiar huffed and flopped down at my feet. I reached to scratch behind his ears.
“Carus.” The old man’s voice sounded pleased. I looked over my shoulder to find the old man smiling, deepening the wrinkles that creviced his face.
“I hope you’re not here to give me a new assignment. I’m still in the process of botching the current one.” I tapped the computer screen. I’m not sure why. It didn’t prove my point, but somehow it made me less frustrated.
The old man lifted both shaggy brows and chuckled. He took the seat beside me and sat down. “No new assignments. I scented you in the lobby and wanted to check in on you.”
“Why do you call me that?”
“Call you what?”
“Carus.”
“It means ‘beloved’.”
“I know that. I have mad Google skills. But why call me that?”
O’Donnell tilted his head to the side and frowned. “Because you’re beloved to all Shifters.” He leaned forward and his expression opened, signalling he was on the verge of launching into dialogue.
“Hold on.” I interrupted whatever speech he was about to give. “Are you actually a grumpy old wizard? Here to tell me I must join you, a lethal barbarian and a gallant nobleman on some mysterious quest?”
“No.”
“Does this involve some sort of sorcerer’s tower, a creepy tall building of any kind, or a magic sword?”
“No.”
Was his tone a bit exasperated? I groaned and leaned back into my chair. “Is this where you tell me I’m the long lost descendent of some fabled Shifter? Or that I, and only I, possess strange and formidable powers and am the only one who can save the Shifters from certain doom. Or ooo…” I sat up. “Only I can vanquish the dark demon lord king and create world peace?”
O’Donnell started to speak.
“Is there a prophesy?” I demanded.
The old man pinched his nose as if to stem an oncoming headache. He sat in that position with his head down for a while. Then his shoulders shook. He was laughing.
“To answer your last bout of questions... No. No. No and not that I know of. God, I hope not. You’re not exactly prophesy material.”
“Umm. Thanks?”
“Did your parents not explain this to you?” He wore a puzzled expression. It looked like his eyebrows were trying to figure out how to become two separate entities, instead of a bushy monobrow.
I flicked my fingers up to emphasize my points. “One. My parents are dead. Two. They adopted me.”
O’Donnell made a silent ‘ahhh’ face. “That explains a lot. Your file didn’t mention any adoption.”
“I chose not to disclose that information,” I said, after getting over my initial shock of the SRD’s ineptitude for background checks. “I assumed the SRD knew anyway.”
O’Donnell pursed his lips. “The information regarding your parentage must be in a classified file above my clearance—guaranteed they know. Adoption leaves a large, glaring paper trail.”
“So I do have mysterious parentage?”
He shook his head. “A Shifter like you comes around maybe once every five hundred years. You’re not one of a kind, but you are unique. You have exceptional skills. And you’re cherished amongst our kind because you’re the beloved chosen of Feradea.” He made some sort of gesture of reverence to the wild beast goddess—touching two fingers to his lips, then his forehead, then above his head in the air. It reminded me of the motion for ‘thank you very much’ in American Sign Language, except instead of the hand going out in front, it went up.
“So I should stop cursing her?”
The dark look O’Donnell gave provided the answer.
“How was I to know she was real?” I shrugged. “She’s never appeared to me.”
O’Donnell’s expression made it clear he thought I was a colossal idiot. “After all the supe groups exposed over the years, you still doubt Feradea exists?”
I squirmed in my seat. “Well, no.”
A long, raspy sigh escaped O’Donnell’s mouth. He looked like he aged five years. “Gods exist. They are around us. Every day. Our beliefs lend them sustenance. She probably didn’t appear because you’re a non-believer.” He cut off whatever he was about to say to look away, clearly agitated.
Stop upsetting the old man. The voice in my head didn’t belong to me. Or my feras.
“Huh?” I looked around. Sharp teeth sank into my ankle. My knee slammed into the bottom of the desk as I jumped out of my seat. “Ow!” I rubbed my ankle and glared at the coyote at my feet. I swear the mangy beast grinned at me.