Adapt (I)
Chapter Thirty Seven

SCARLET

Caron handled seeing the scene of her attack very well. Extremely well.

Too well.

I am just jealous. She seems to be able to process what is happening better than me. It doesn’t seem fair.

Caron had packed about a week’s worth of clothing for her indefinite stay with me. Unsurprisingly, her clothing for one week outnumbered my entire wardrobe.

Caron left a note for her parents, telling them that she is going to be staying with me for a while. There won’t be any questions. Caron’s parents will hardly even notice, with her mother being a more-than-full-time nurse and her father being a truck driver with a six day turn around.

Now Caron piles her stuff into my room. She neatly cleans out my closet and divvies up the space between us. I don’t know why, but the whole process feels right. Maybe I was always meant to live with Caron.

Boe sets about cooking something in the kitchen, and for that I am grateful. I had skipped breakfast and had an apple for lunch. A filling dinner is going to feel like heaven. Caron is taking full advantage of having me alone. She asks me all sorts of questions. She asks about how to kill Therians, so I show her my dagger.

“What is it made of?” she asks as she marvels at the blade. I can hardly blame her fascination. It is unlike any material I have ever seen. The blade is made of something that resembles crystal, but has the properties of metal. It catches the light, reflecting like a diamond.

“I am not sure.” I respond truthfully. “Maybe Boe would know.”

“How did you get it?” She hands it back to me and goes back to organising the closet. “Is it, like, handed down through the generations?”

I shrug. “I have no idea. I don’t remember anything before the change, and not a whole lot after, up until I was about eight. I guess my brain just threw out those memories because they were so awful.” I spin the dagger on the palm of my hand. “Sometimes, I am not even sure that it is real. It just appears when I want it.”

“Like magic?” she says the word like a joke.

I shrug, a grin on my face. “I guess. It used to freak me out to no end. It doesn’t disappear. It just appears. Like, I will put it down on the bedside table now, and it might stay there for days. Then I will be out on a hunt and it will just appear in my hand when I am ready for it.”

“Huh.” She says, as she folds away more of her clothes into one of the draws. “So, the change...? What happened to cause it?”

“Well,” I start, smoothing out the duvet cover. “I’m not one hundred percent sure. I am told that a child must have the hunter gene in order to be changed. When they turn six, or there about, the change hits them and from then on they are a hunter.”

“What does it feel like?” She quickly asks.

I take a deep breath. “Just pain. Like fire burning you from the inside out.”

“Why? Why a little kid? Why does it have to be painful?”

I give her a weak laugh. “Your guess is as good as mine. Honestly, I haven’t questioned it much.”

“So, you just go from being a normal little kid, to kick ass monster hunter over night?” She says, light-hearted again.

I laugh, nodding my head. “I mean, basically. Most hunters get picked up and sent to the training facilities. They learn how to fight and other things. Boe says he finished with school to a university level by the time he was our age, so I am guessing that they are pretty intense with studying before throwing people out into the field to hunt.”

She comes to sit on the bed beside me. “And you didn’t go there?”

I shake my head.

“Why not?”

Well, that is one hell of a loaded question. How many days do you have, Caron? I take a shallow breath. “I’m not like other hunters.” Oh yes, that explains everything. I look up, trying to find the words to say on my ceiling. “I... ah...” Oh, how about you stammer a little more? That will just clear up everything! “I, umm, can’t be around other hunters. All hunters have this ability to sense Therians. Some have it more than others. It’s like being doused with a bucket of ice water, and with it comes this blood lust... a sort of rage-fuelled need to hunt them. For some reason, my brain is wired... wrong. I get the same feeling when I sense a hunter. It’s impossible to control. So, it would be a bad idea for me to go and train in a place where there are hundreds of hunters.” I skirt around the fact that I am half Therian. Honestly, I didn’t even fully understand that part of me yet. There is no way that I am going to dump that on Caron while she is trying to process so much already.

“So, Boe..? He’s a hunter too, right? How can you be around him then?”

Wow, she is quick to the mark. I rub my forehead. “I don’t know why, but Boe seems to be the exception to the rule. I have no idea why, but I seem to be able to just sense him as another hunter, not as an enemy.”

Her smile reaches her eyes before her mouth. I can tell that she is thinking about Boe and I’s compatibility. I return her smile, unthinkingly, then fight it back down. The last thing I need to do is let myself get excited over nothing. I mean, all of these little clues that Boe might like me in the way that I like him, could just be red herrings.

Caron reads me and doesn’t push the subject. Instead, she diverts back to her fact-finding mission. “Okay, so you are a hunter, you have extra strength and endurance. You have killed lots of monsters. And you have a wicked dagger that I am sure many jewellers would just love to cut up and make into pretty things.”

I slowly nod, verifying her summary. Sᴇaʀ*ᴄh the Findɴovel.ɴet website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

She takes a deep breath. “Okay, so the... Therians...”

“Okay.”

“Just tell me straight. What the fuck are they?” she says, her hands splayed.

I laugh at her. Even when she is completely serious, Caron manages to make me smile. “They are basically these ‘half-human’, ‘half animal’ things.”

She gives me a widen eyed look. “How does that even happen?”

I feel like I have been shrugging at Caron every three seconds, but I really don’t have any answers that Caron deserves. “I have no idea. Boe told me that they are supposed to be the oldest myth in the book. I kind of think that the answer to that question is might have burnt down with the Library of Alexandria.” I stand to gather up the pile of laundry that Caron so caringly dumped in the middle of my bedroom floor. “If you are asking about how they become a therian, that I am even less sure of. That is definitely a question for Boe.” I couldn’t bear to be the one to tell her that she was halfway through the process of becoming one herself, which is why she had to be watched for a while.

Caron follows me out of the room to the tiny little laundry closet I have at the back of my house. I look out through the back door to see a very patient Phoenix staring through the glass.

“Can I let him in?” Caron asks, walking to the door.

I nod as I dump the laundry in the washing machine, not bothering to separate anything. I pour in a very careless amount of washing liquid and shut the lid. I don’t mess with the dials, just press the on button, and the water starts flowing into the machine. Phoenix greets Caron with a slobbery smile and noses for a pat on the head. He gives me a cursory brush against my leg before heading to the kitchen to see if Boe had made him anything. Boe had been so great with Phoenix ever since he had come here. When he had overhauled my kitchen supplies, he had even added some liver treats for Phoenix. The thought of it makes my smile.

“So, this has been your life since you stopped going to school? You train and hunt, and sit around talking about training and hunting?” Caron says, humour in her tone, with a dash of awe.

“Yeah, for about the past two weeks.” I tilt my head to the side, making sure I have my math right. It doesn’t seem that long, yet I also feel very removed from the rigmarole of school.

“And you are liking it?” She is probing, but I am not sure for what.

“It has been great. It combines everything that I like-physical training, hunting.” Boe, my brain adds. I beat the thought down with a baseball bat.

“Mm-hmm.” She waggles her eyebrows at me. I lightly push her shoulder. “Hey,” she laughs. “Don’t be pushing me around!”

I push her again, the slightest bit harder. My laughter mirrors hers. “Oh yeah, what are you going to do about it?”

“I have some tricks up my sleeve.” She pushes me back but barely makes any impact.

Caron has always been the smartest person in any room. Even smarter still, she never feels the need to flash her brains at everyone that wanted to conversate with her. I had once called her ‘incognito smart’. Never have I been more convinced than right now, as she works her brain around all of the new, world changing information that we had dumped on her.

“I have no doubt.” I say and start my way to the kitchen, where the aroma of something very tasty is getting stronger.

“So, when are you coming back to school?” Caron asks when we make it into the living area. She bee lines for my couch.

I scrunch my face up. “Um, I have no idea.”

Boe comes over to us, wiping his hands with a tea towel. “Tomorrow.” He says.

We both shoot him a confused look.

“Why?” I ask him.

He chucks the towel into the sink. “Well, all of the missing girls go to your school, right? Seems like a good place to start tracking them.”

“Tracking them?” Caron queries.

Boe nods. “Yeah. I am a tracker. I should be able to pick up their trail there.”

Caron’s brows shoot up, forming little lines in her forehead. I answer her unspoken question. “Every hunter has an area of skill. Boe can track Therians, kind of like a truffle pig.”

This makes Caron laugh. Boe gives me a cheeky grin, liking me comparing him to a pig.

“So, if Boe’s a tracker, that would make you a..?” Caron segues.

“A Mark.” Boe answers for me. “Her specialty is analysing a situation, assessing an opponent’s weaknesses and using them efficiently.” He says, almost proudly.

Caron brings her knees up under her chin and wraps her arms around them. “Right. The ultimate killing machines. So, what else is there? Is everyone different?”

I wonder to the kitchen to get some water for Caron and me, letting Boe take over the Q and A.

“The only other one is the Page. They are the encyclopedia’s, the ones that have a knack for finding out information and remembering it, giving the Tracker and the Mark as much knowledge as they need to get the best result. The three of them make a Pack.”

I give Caron the glass of water. She sips at it. “A Pack? Is that what you guys are?”

Boe and I look at each other, both asking each other, non-verbally, if that is what we are becoming. I shake the idea from my mind. “No, we would need a Page for that.” I say, dismissively.

She takes another sip. “So, how do you know what you are? Do you just figure it out?”

Boe shakes his head, going to lean casually against the big wooden table with the maps stuck to it. “No, our markings tell us what we are designed for.” He lifts his shirt, revealing the markings on his front.

It is the first time I have ever seen his markings fully. Or any other hunters for that matter. Stupidly, they take me by surprise. The tree starts at the base of his diaphragm. The trunk beams up through the centre of his chest, the branches sporeling out toward his shoulders in a way that resembles vines more than lush foliage. The texture of the scar gives the trunk an almost knotted appearance and allude to leaves along the branches. From the base of the trunk grows roots that trace along his skin in shiny pink tendrils, reaching across his well-defined stomach muscles. My heart skips, my stomach twisting in the same emotion that I had the night that we left The Kraken.

“Holy shit!” Caron jumps from the couch, going to Boe to get a better look. I can tell that she isn’t even looking at the god-like body that Boe is revealing. Unlike me who, now that I am done marvelling at the scar itself, is now marvelling at the physique that I hadn’t had the opportunity to see before.

“What is it?” She asks, her face level with his chest, looking at all of the details.

“The original tree.” Boe says simply.

Her fingers hover just above his skin, wanting to touch but not sure if she should. “Like the Garden of Eden?” Coming out her trance, realizing she is being invasive; she straightens and takes a step back.

Boe lets his shirt drop, not in the least bit phased by Caron’s interest. “Garden of Eden, the Tree of life.” He shrugs. “It’s whatever tree you want it to be, really. We just call it the original tree so that no one gets offended.”

Caron crosses her arms and turns to me. “So, you have this too?”

I take a deep breath. I have never shown anyone my markings. I keep them hidden whenever possible. The thought of revealing them have my palms sweating. “Yeah, I do.” I say, shakily. “Mine is on my back. Pages have theirs on their neck and one arm.” I gesture to my right arm as if to demonstrate.

“Oh.” Her expression turns from awe to sympathy. She is associating me with the pain of the change, knowing now that I am forever marked physically by it.

“I will show you sometime.” I promise.

She nods. “Okay, well, I think I have learnt enough for one half day. What’s for dinner?”

Boe had made a stir-fry. A really delicious stir-fry. I finish three servings before my stomach gives out. Boe eats two, chewing every bite slowly. Caron finishes one, but for her that is a feast. We all sit around the living room, the tv showing some mellow drama. Boe sits on the floor, Phoenix sitting about a meter away, eyeing him. Caron and I sit on the couch cross legged.

“Bailey really needs to dump Felicity.” Caron says at the TV.

“What!?” Boe thunders. “No way! He needs to drop Elaina! Felicity did nothing wrong!”

“But Elaina actually loves Bailey, and he loves her. He is only with Felicity because she is all stable and steady, but when it comes to love that stuff doesn’t matter! If there is no spark, then what is the point?” Caron retorts.

Boe goes back for another round, defending Felicity. They both slide into a battle of which character deserves Bailey. I laugh to myself at the whole situation. It is absurdly normal. Three friends, sitting down, eating a meal in front of a TV, arguing about fictional characters. I don’t even bother to throw out my two cents, which is that no two women should be fighting over a man who is so fickle. I don’t bother, because I am just so happy that I have this small part of my human life back.

Moments like these: so small, so fleetly-must be cherished as they come.

Lord knows I don’t get many of them.

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