Page 23 of Riding A Cock-Horse
If I had been some rare anomaly in the community whose blood not only makes me a breeder, but I was able to turn into a shifter because I latently was one; then there probably wouldn't be anything to worry about too much—except for the fact that I'm some type of monster.
But this is far worse.
It's the fact that anyone injected with the shot can become a monster.
Do you know how many idiots there are in the world who are just waiting to become monsters?
Stupid ass folks—like the idiot who posted on social media about his heists—who can turn into lions with venomous snakes and dumn billy goats coming out their back end…
Does that sound good to you?
Now, I don't want to be the Debbie Downer here, but honestly, it sounds like the Tertiaries have won before the war’s even started!
I answer more questions, and eventually, they ask me about the breeding—that thankfully never happened. I fidget uncomfortably, not really wanting to recall it, but knowing I need to be as honest as possible to help. When I finally get done, Graham looks at me with hazy eyes.
“Then, it is as we have feared,” he announces. “Humans and shifters are co evolving together.”
“What does he mean?” I ask through the side of my mouth to Arthur, not sure if I understood him correctly.
“I mean, lass, that shifters are so endangered humans are changing to accommodate us. When a species is endangered, it either goes extinct, or it finds a way to survive. In our case, it's finding a way to survive. There can be no other explanation. If a human woman can carry a shifter baby, it is because evolution is pushing us towards survival.”
With these words, the elder suddenly just disappears.
His clothes go floating to the ground while I scream and point, but Dageus’ dad walks up calmly to the clothes and pulls out a limp toad.
Looks like Graham just croaked.
“Prepare the fire—we're having frog legs.”
Belle screams at the Laird’s announcement.
“We're going to eat him?!” she screeches. “What the fuck?! Cannibalism is not cool!”
“I'll take her outside,” I volunteer, grabbing onto her hand and tugging her away.
She's still shouting when I finally get her out of Arthur’s uncle’s house.
“Belle, love, calm down.”
“How can I calm down after hearing something like that?” she hisses.
“They're not going to eat him,” I explain. “They're just going to burn him.”
“Like that's any better!” she shouts.
“How is it any different from cremation?” I wonder, holding up my hands.
This shuts her up.
“Oh, good point.”
“We have to burn our dead—ignore that pyres are simply a Scottish ritual—this is our way of honoring and commemorating the one who has passed away. But I promise you, they're not going to eat them—there's nothingtoeat. He's probably already turned to ash.”
Belle snaps her mouth shut and gets a thoughtful look on her face.
“Oh, yeah. I remember you guys saying that to me once about when you die.”
“Yep. No matter how we die nor what type of shifter we are—including Tersh, Secondary, or Primary—you turn to ash as a way to ensure our safety. An evolutionary mechanism as Graham would’ve told you.”
