better. You're better able to protect her because you're so close to her."
"I'm better able to protect her because I love her, Orlando . What are we going to do if she uses magic again? We can't leave this until it's too late."
"Halloween is coming," he said.
"We may not have until Halloween. And if Poppy learns that she's a Shape Shifter before I tell her, she's going to be pissed."
"We can't. Not until Karma gives the go-ahead. We have to proceed with this the right way. Poppy is the first Shape Shifter born in three centuries. There will never again be another of her kind. We don't even know what she changes into yet. We have to keep watching. Karma said she was going to keep an eye out for signs."
"I think our time for signs is almost over."
"We have no choice but to wait."
"Wrong. We have to tell her. And soon. If we don't, it could mean our downfall, as well as hers."
* * * * *
"Sweetheart?" Chip’s voice echoed in the bedroom. The light from the doorway streaked across the floor, engulfing Roz in shadow. Chip liked the bedroom; it was large, with high ceilings and two, large windows. Both were covered with thick drapes. They had moved from their old apartment near Elgin . It held too many memories for Roz; Jethro coming into their home, what he had done to them. Chip had scrubbed as hard as he could but could not remove the bloodstains from the bedroom floor. When Roz had recovered enough, they had moved to their new apartment. They lived in the entire top floor of an old converted brownstone on Marlowe Street , in the Glebe. Chip had hoped that the move to a new place, a new home, would bring back Roz from inside herself. She seemed haunted by her internal thoughts lately, replaying the same images in her head, no doubt.
Their apartment had a small, tight, winding staircase that had two landings, so that their apartment had two floors. You opened the door and there was a small space to take off your boots and coats. Their apartment was on the top floor, so you climbed the stairs upwards. The first floor housed the living room, the kitchen, a bathroom and a TV room. The upstairs landing had two bedrooms, a large bathroom and a small room that they had marked as an office. At first, Roz had thrown herself into making the apartment better, making it a home. But her enthusiasm began to wane. Chip had gotten himself a job for Random House reading novels in the slush pile that people sent in for publication. It was great work, he read and gave his opinions and then passed it on to his supervisor. He could read anywhere and they paid him a salary. Because Chip was at home a lot now, he was able to keep an eye on Roz. She went from blooming to depressed in three weeks. She stopped going to work, home decorating notwithstanding.
Chip had hoped that the change in scenery would help, that it would take away the memories of what had happened. Moving only served to remind Roz that they had been violated by a madman and he had changed their lives. She had withdrawn inside herself, a hermit in her own skin. Chip continued to try to draw her out.
"Sweetheart?" he tried again.
Roz looked up at him from where she was on the bed. She sat near the window, wrapped up in a heavy wool blanket. The air conditioning was on high, even though it was nearing the end of September. She was running her fingers along the fabric of the heavy drapes, feeling their smoothness under her fingers. Chip could see his breath in her room and his insides felt like ice when he breathed. Roz looked up from the bed with vacant eyes. They saw him but didn't see him, loved him but didn't love him. "Yes?" Her voice was a shadow of its former self. It was quiet and weak. It had no oomph, no force behind it, like the woman he had fallen in love with.
"I brought you something to drink, some tea. It's Earl Grey."
Roz shrugged. "Could you get me another blanket?"
"Why don't I turn on the heat instead? It's so cold in here with the air conditioner
"I'm better able to protect her because I love her, Orlando . What are we going to do if she uses magic again? We can't leave this until it's too late."
"Halloween is coming," he said.
"We may not have until Halloween. And if Poppy learns that she's a Shape Shifter before I tell her, she's going to be pissed."
"We can't. Not until Karma gives the go-ahead. We have to proceed with this the right way. Poppy is the first Shape Shifter born in three centuries. There will never again be another of her kind. We don't even know what she changes into yet. We have to keep watching. Karma said she was going to keep an eye out for signs."
"I think our time for signs is almost over."
"We have no choice but to wait."
"Wrong. We have to tell her. And soon. If we don't, it could mean our downfall, as well as hers."
* * * * *
"Sweetheart?" Chip’s voice echoed in the bedroom. The light from the doorway streaked across the floor, engulfing Roz in shadow. Chip liked the bedroom; it was large, with high ceilings and two, large windows. Both were covered with thick drapes. They had moved from their old apartment near Elgin . It held too many memories for Roz; Jethro coming into their home, what he had done to them. Chip had scrubbed as hard as he could but could not remove the bloodstains from the bedroom floor. When Roz had recovered enough, they had moved to their new apartment. They lived in the entire top floor of an old converted brownstone on Marlowe Street , in the Glebe. Chip had hoped that the move to a new place, a new home, would bring back Roz from inside herself. She seemed haunted by her internal thoughts lately, replaying the same images in her head, no doubt.
Their apartment had a small, tight, winding staircase that had two landings, so that their apartment had two floors. You opened the door and there was a small space to take off your boots and coats. Their apartment was on the top floor, so you climbed the stairs upwards. The first floor housed the living room, the kitchen, a bathroom and a TV room. The upstairs landing had two bedrooms, a large bathroom and a small room that they had marked as an office. At first, Roz had thrown herself into making the apartment better, making it a home. But her enthusiasm began to wane. Chip had gotten himself a job for Random House reading novels in the slush pile that people sent in for publication. It was great work, he read and gave his opinions and then passed it on to his supervisor. He could read anywhere and they paid him a salary. Because Chip was at home a lot now, he was able to keep an eye on Roz. She went from blooming to depressed in three weeks. She stopped going to work, home decorating notwithstanding.
Chip had hoped that the change in scenery would help, that it would take away the memories of what had happened. Moving only served to remind Roz that they had been violated by a madman and he had changed their lives. She had withdrawn inside herself, a hermit in her own skin. Chip continued to try to draw her out.
"Sweetheart?" he tried again.
Roz looked up at him from where she was on the bed. She sat near the window, wrapped up in a heavy wool blanket. The air conditioning was on high, even though it was nearing the end of September. She was running her fingers along the fabric of the heavy drapes, feeling their smoothness under her fingers. Chip could see his breath in her room and his insides felt like ice when he breathed. Roz looked up from the bed with vacant eyes. They saw him but didn't see him, loved him but didn't love him. "Yes?" Her voice was a shadow of its former self. It was quiet and weak. It had no oomph, no force behind it, like the woman he had fallen in love with.
"I brought you something to drink, some tea. It's Earl Grey."
Roz shrugged. "Could you get me another blanket?"
"Why don't I turn on the heat instead? It's so cold in here with the air conditioner
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