Page 29 of Anders
For that small mercy, she was grateful.The thought of returning to that rental house—a place she now realized had been chosen specifically to position her where she could be watched and watch others in turn—made her stomach churn.
A sound from somewhere in the house caught her attention.She cocked her head, listening.It was the soft click of computer keys…from what had to be several rooms away.
How was she hearing that?
Etta pressed her hands to her ears, but it didn’t help.If anything, it amplified the sounds—the tap of keys, Anders’s steady breathing, the hum of electronics, even the distant chirping of birds outside.
Her stomach growled, reminding her she hadn’t eaten since… She couldn’t remember when.Before the basement, certainly.
Wrapping her arms around her middle, she shuffled toward what she hoped was the kitchen.
The moment she opened the bedroom door, a wave of scents slammed into her.Coffee, strong and rich.Toast, slightly burned.Something clean and piney—Anders’s soap orshampoo, perhaps.And underneath it all, that wild, earthy scent she recognized as Anders himself.
The intensity of it made her stagger against the doorframe.This wasn’t normal.Humans didn’t smell things this way, didn’t hear things from rooms away.
Humans don’t.But you’re not human, are you?
The thought came unbidden, in a voice that sounded like her own but wasn’t—a voice that held a wildness she’d spent a lifetime denying.
She’d always had a keen sense of smell, she reminded herself.
Now, though, she was able to parse out individual smells.It was like coming to Sunburst had brought out a skill she’d always had but never fully recognized.
As if she’d awoken to a part of herself she’d spent her life until now working to keep hidden.
A part of myself I’ve always known was there…but was never willing to acknowledge.
No,she whispered aloud.That’s not true.It can’t be.
Even as she said it, though, another memory surfaced—her small body running through moonlight, not on two legs but four, her paws barely leaving tracks in the soft earth.
Etta forced herself to keep moving down the hallway, using the wall for support.The kitchen was bright and functional, dominated by a large center island.A plate of toast and a mug of coffee sat waiting, still steaming.
He’d known she was awake.Had heard her, just as she’d heard him.
Etta approached the island cautiously.A note had been propped against the mug:Eat something.I’m in my office down the hall if you need me.—A
Simple.Practical.Giving her space while letting her know he was nearby.
She should have found it calculating, perhaps even manipulative.But instead, something in her chest loosened at the gesture.
Still, she examined the food carefully before taking a tentative bite.The toast was plain, lightly buttered.The coffee, when she sipped it, was strong and black.The flavors exploded across her taste buds with an intensity that made her gasp.
She could taste every grain in the bread, every molecule of butter—more detail than any human palate should be capable of detecting.
Not human.
Etta set the mug down with shaking hands, accidentally catching her reflection in its polished surface.For an instant, her eyes flashed gold, the pupils narrowing to slits before returning to normal.
No,she whispered, backing away.No, no, no.
She fled to the bathroom, needing to see her face properly.In the mirror, her reflection looked normal—same white-blonde hair, same blue-green eyes.But as she stared, those eyes shifted again, gold bleeding in from the edges, the pupils contracting briefly before normalizing.
Not a trick of the light.Not a hallucination.
Real.
Etta gripped the edge of the sink, her knuckles turning white.As she did, a sharp pain lanced through her fingertips.She looked down to see her nails elongating, curving into points before retracting with a sensation like muscles cramping.
