The Shapeshifter’s Seduction

The rhythmic ticking of the church clock in the tower above provided a strange sense of familiarity for Tara. The consistent reminder of time marching on proved hypnotic as it mingled with the utter exhaustion swirling through her body. It felt like a taunt… seducing her with the far-fetched idea of rest without consequence. She releases a deep sigh of aspiration as she leans against the wall of the chapel and slides down slowly until her legs are fully extended before her. She groans under her breath as she slides her backpack off, one shoulder at a time, then tosses it weakly beside her. Ominous slithers of red and blue light dance across her heavily bruised legs, and she shifts her attention to the relentless sun hammering down directly through the broken stained glass skylight. It must be around noon. She started walking as the sun came up, and this was the first break of the day. As reluctant as she was to rest now, her swollen ankles all but demanded it.

Weakly propping herself up, she shifted around in an attempt to alleviate some of the pain. She knew she must be careful not to get too comfortable. The memory of what happened the last time she let her guard down was, for better or worse, branded into her consciousness forever. A bit invasively, the thought occurs to her that “if things were normal” she would be arriving home from her sales job soon, likely to the delightful treat of her beloved Sam playing piano for her. Almost reflexively, she reaches up and touches the scar that runs from her left collar bone to just above her right breast- crossing paths with where the heart shaped locket gifted to her by her beloved once rested. The tingling sensation that accompanied running her bony fingers over the scar was admittedly one of the only pleasant feelings she’d encountered in months. Desperately in need of the soothing, she methodically stroked the scar, reveling in the presence of any sensation other than pain. Her heavy eyes flutter, begging to come together- but she knows she should fight deep sleep until she can reach asylum. Her only chance for for survival, lies approximately 15 miles north of this now rubbish cathedral. As painful memories surfaced, she grimaced. The pain was quickly replaced by desire for memorit’s of her sweet Sam enveloping her. As she became more immersed into memories of her wife, each stoke of her hand began to feel more and more familiar in the way that only a lover’s hand could. She releases a heavy involuntary yawn, then reluctantly let the comfort of unconsciousness consume her.

****

“Welcome home, I made you a glass of vodka lemonade.” Sam says as she slides the glass across the counter to Tara.

Tara smiles warmly at her, failing to notice her anxious tone and uncomfortable posture. She grabs the glass, takes a dramatically large gulp before smacking her lips playfully then wiping her mouth with the sleeve of her shirt.

“You sure know how to make a perfect drink, baby” she says with a flirty wink. “How was your day?”

“Well you know I don’t ever want to come across as a conspiracy theorist or anything, but I have to be honest… the reports of the “shapeshifting” entities are starting to really freak me out.”

“Umm… you’re kidding right?” Tara furrows her brows, unsure what to make of her typically no-nonsense partner’s change in demeanor.

“No, I’m not. I wish I was! It’s just that there are just so many weird things happening and the witnesses have the same stories. Stories that are like, immensely bizarre. Remember 6 months ago when MoeJoe went viral on YouTube for claiming that a cow shifted into a monster with orange glowing eyes then killed everything on his farm? We all thought that was just a pitiful attempt for 15 minutes of fame. But now, now there are 20 people in Canada who saw a guy morph in a Starbucks. He then proceeded to strangle the poor barista to death, unprovoked! Like real life evil Hulk shit, Tara. There are SO MANY stories coming out everyday with the same theme.” Sam blurted out without having ever paused to inhale.

Tara, stunned- blinks twice, finishes her drink and lets out a soft nervous chuckle. “Sam, I really want to take your concerns seriously but I’m not sure where to even begin with this. If I’m hearing you correctly, you think there is some kind of validity to these stories because there is more than one person saying it?”

“Well, I mean, yeah. Aren’t you at least a little freaked out? Look… I know this sounds crazy. Honestly. But what about General Mathis? He went on live TV and declared the government is lying to us to avoid panic. But isn’t murderous aliens good reason to panic?!”

“Of course it would be… but I don’t think we need to put too much stock into what these conspiracy theorists are touting. Let’s take this bottle of wine and go relax by the pool, shall we? I don’t want you to worry, baby. Even if the world is ending, we still have each other. Right? Right?” Tara says, throwing a lighthearted elbow jab.

“You’re right. To be honest I’ve just been so overwhelmed lately and I think the stress of life is getting to me. I won’t worry anymore, I promise. Oh! That reminds me…you know what else I won’t do?!?”

“What’s that?”

“Forget about our FIFTH wedding anniversary! I know it’s not techniiiiiically until this weekend, but I think you deserve your present early. I don’t know where I’d be without you, terbear.”

Sam pulls a small, neatly wrapped box from her pocket and gently places it Tara’s hand. Tara carefully opens the package to reveal an antique gold, heart shaped locket. She fumbles with it for a moment before it opens, revealing the a photo from their wedding day. A tear rolled down Tara’s face as her eyes meet Sam’s. She recognized the locket immediately, it was a gift to Sam from her beloved late grandmother. “Oh my god. Sam. This locket is undeniably beautiful. But…”

“Oh baby, don’t start that. Look, I want you to have it. Like I said, this way, no matter if I’m physically here or not, you always know you have a piece of me right next to your heart.” Sam’s cheeks bush adorably as she gushes to her wife.

“Awwww!! I love you forever, Samantha Rose Elliot. Cheers to our Future!” They clank their glasses cheerfully and, noticing that nightfall was quickly approaching, head back to the condo.

“Excuse me?!” A tall, middle aged woman, runs over shouting with a frantic gesture toward Sam and Tara. “Please help me! My child is drowning!! He fell in the pool and I can’t swim!”

Without hesitation, Sam drops her wine glass, sprinting toward the pool. Before the glass hit the ground, she’d dived into the pool after the child. When the sound of the wine glass shattering registered to Tara, so did an intense gut feeling that something wasn’t right. Her eyes advert from the pool back to the distressed mother, who is no longer panicking but entirely expressionless. She is watching the pool intently. Suddenly, she shifts her focus from the pool to Tara. Tara looks in horror as she notices the unusual citrusy glow of her eyes. The woman’s face instantaneously reverts to a smirk as she lunges toward her.

Tara screams as the woman tackles her onto the ground but is too surprised to avoid the vicious claws of the assailant slicing through the flesh of her upper torso. The now bloody hand grasps the locket and jerks it from her neck while laughing manically. After struggling for a moment, Tara clumsily rolls the attacker off and returns to her feet. She no longer hears commotion coming from the pool, only silence.

Sobbing, but not sacrificing momentum, Tara sprints toward her vehicle. She fumbles with her keys, dropping them once before shakily shoving the key into the ignition. She throws the ’98 BMW into gear and speeds off toward the hospital, bleeding profusely and toeing the line of unconsciousness.

****

The eerie sound of a piano melody was floating through the speakers of the BMW as Tara drove along the unusually empty freeway. The night was still, but evidence of shapeshifter induced mayhem was all around: buildings on fire, broken water lines flooding the streets, the corpses of unlucky shapeshifter victims sprawled around everywhere with no regard for the departed. As Tara drives frantically, she notices the radio has been increasing volume and is now blaring.

Tara jerks suddenly awake- her sore body protesting the sudden shift in position. The music is still floating through the air, and the terrifying realization that she is not alone paralyzes her. The music stops and a figure emerges. It is now after dark, and Tara has no idea how long she was unconscious. She doesn’t take her eyes off her new company but slowly reaches her hand in her bag to grab her weapon.

“Don’t hurt me.” the figure called out , “I have been hiding out in the grocery store next door for, days? Months? I don’t know… I’ve lost track of time. Anyway… I hid and watched when you came in and stocked up on supplies. I caught that your eyes are Blue. So, I had to try to connect with you. It’s just been so long...” As she finished, she struck a match and lit a lantern resting above the pulpit. The soft glow of the flame revealed her brilliant brown eyes. Tara slowly withdraws her hand and gestures for the stranger to come closer.

“Who are you?” Tara asks.

“My name is Jazmine but you can call me Jazzy. It looks like they have really have done a number on you, girl. I was an EMT before, can I help you with those wounds?”

Tara was reluctant to trust anyone- let alone this stranger- but she needed the help. If she were being honest, she also really longed for human connection after months on the run alone. She weakly nodded her head yes, and Jazzy approaches cautiously with a first aid kit.

As Jazzy dressed Tara’s wounds, the two locked eyes and Tara was surprised by the softness of Jazzy’s face, despite the circumstances. Neither adverted their glances until Tara noticed that they had leaned in close, their lips only breaths apart. She gasped and leaned back in surprise. “Oh my gosh. I am so sorry.”

Jazzy’s eyes flash disappointment. “No, It was me who misread the…” her sentence cut short by Tara’s lips pressing firmly against hers. They embrace and Tara inhales sharply as Jazzy runs her fingertips up her arm, resting her finger at the tip of her scar. She slowly runs her finger down the scar, sending a shiver up Tara’s spine. Jazzy leans back and says “I hope this isn’t weird, but I have a gift for you.”

Tara looks puzzled as Jazzy places a small box into the palm of her hand. A strange sense of Déjà vu overtakes her as she peels the decorative wrapping back. She opens the box and it is a… golden heart locket. Her face contorts in confusion. How did a stranger know to give her a gift EXACTLY like the last gift from her wife? She pops open the locket and her wedding photo stares back up at her. Even more confused, she locks eyes with Jazzy. The warm orange glow beaming off of Jazzy’s once brown eyes connect the dots for her. Jazzy’s omniscient face twists into a cold, vindictive smirk. She leans in close her face a void, eyes like hot embers. She throws her head back and with a wicked laugh, hisses the familiar taunt “PLEASE HELP ME TARA! MY CHILD IS DROWNING AND I CAN’T SWIM.”