Page 8 of Raven

"Me and my mother, but she's at work. If you go through there, that's the kitchen. I just need to grab the first aid kit. I won't be long." If she noticed me engaging the three locks as she headed in the direction I pointed, she didn't comment on it, nor did I sense any change in her mood or a sudden spike in her heart rate. I secured the deadbolt into place and went to the bathroom.

My mother kept a small first aid kit in the bathroom, tucked away in a small cabinet. I carefully retrieved it, making sure not to disturb anything else—she would notice otherwise. The last thing I needed was for my mother to question what kind of trouble I'd got myself into. She was paranoid enough without me showing up with bumps and scratches. Her paranoia had once driven us to move because I had a run-in with a bully at school. I was five; the bully was seven. He thought he could take my things and laugh about it.

He wasn't laughing when I took my things back, and neither was his mother nor mine.

My mother had us out of there so quickly, I doubted my backside even touched the seats of the bus.

I could only imagine what my mother would do if she found out I had fought off a bunch of idiotic Humans. The thought sent a shiver down my spine as I led Tia into our small apartment.

Tia placed her small bag on the one chair beside the small table we had. She bent over, scrutinising my pile of books on the table. I mentally kicked myself for not having tidied up, but in my defence, I wasn't expecting any guests. Especially not a guest who made my heart race with every movement.

"What are you studying?" she asked, with a sort of curious adoration that made my chest tighten.

I went straight to the sink, took a bowl off the drainer, and started filling it with warm water to add some healing salts. My eyes kept darting back to her, drawn by the graceful curve ofher neck as she examined my books. I forced myself to focus on the task at hand. "Business, law, and preternatural rights," I responded, trying to keep my voice steady.

Her eyes widened, and her surprise rippled through me. "Is that all? How do you manage to fit all that in with a job? Any one of those subjects alone would be incredibly challenging, I bet."

"It's not too bad. I kind of have a system for getting it all done," I said, omitting the parts about not sleeping, sometimes skipping meals, and the effort to avoid splitting myself in two. Our eyes met, and for a moment, I forgot what I was saying. I cleared my throat. "It'll be worth it in the end. I want to start my own business. Not sure what in yet, but no Other has ever made a decent living or had a good life by just slogging away for Humans."

I carried the bowl to the counter at the far end, nearest the door leading to the balcony. Not that we ever opened that door—I was pretty sure my mother had it sealed shut at this point. "Do you want to hop up here?" I patted the counter, my heart skipping a beat at the thought of her being closer. "It'll be easier for me."

Tia wasn't short, but at my six-foot-five stature, leaning over to tend to her face wouldn't be ideal. The counters in our kitchen were built high, perfect for me, and if she sat on the end one, it would put her at the right height for me to easily move around her. Plus, the table was cluttered with my stuff.

"What are you studying?" I asked, trying to distract myself from the way her presence seemed to fill the small space.

Leaving her things on the table, she approached, turned her back to the counter, braced her hands on the edge, and hopped up. The movement was graceful, feline, and I found myself holding my breath. "Preternatural anthropology," she said, her voice soft and close.

It was now my turn to be surprised. "Shifter specific?" I asked, leaning in slightly, drawn by her scent—a mix of vanilla and something wild I couldn't quite place.

"Nah, all Others. I originally wanted to go into some kind of medical field, but then we covered anthropology for a term, and I was hooked."

"I bet it's fascinating, challenging, but fascinating." I dipped the cloth in the warm water, hyper-aware of how close we were.

"It is. Did you know that shifter brains have the most neuroplasticity? Because of our ability to shift—since our insides realign—our brains can do the same, right down to the fibres. It's why we heal so fast. It's not actually fast healing."

"It's our cells shifting," I realised aloud, impressed by her knowledge and the passion in her voice.

"Exactly. Our brains adapt too. Humans misunderstand our potential. We learn rapidly and grasp concepts more deeply. Think of the advancements we could contribute to all fields of science."

As she spoke, I gently pressed the damp cloth against her cut. She flinched slightly, and I instinctively placed my other hand on her shoulder to steady her. The contact sent a jolt through me, and I quickly pulled back. "Sorry," I murmured. "Their reluctance stems from fear," I added, trying to keep the conversation going.

"They fear what they don't understand. But consider the potential if we collaborated. We don't experience dementia, strokes, or suffer from mental illnesses, largely due to our neuroplasticity. It's also why many shifters possess secondary abilities."

I unconsciously narrowed my eyes, my hand pausing in its ministrations. "Not all of us have such abilities."

"That's one of the mysteries science is trying to unravel."

My mind buzzed with my own hidden talents, known only to my mother and myself, though even she didn't grasp their full extent. "Your classes must be mind-blowing."

"More like mind-torturing," she quipped, a smile playing at her lips that made my heart flutter.

I moved a lamp closer to better illuminate the cut on Tia's face, even though my vision was sharp enough without it. The warm light cast a soft glow on her features, highlighting the curve of her cheekbones. I swallowed hard. "Are you a first-year student?"

"No, I'm in my third year."

I was puzzled, having never noticed her before. How could I have missed someone like her? "Did you transfer?"

Her pulse quickened, a subtle shift that would go unnoticed by anyone lacking sensitivity. I made sure not to react; people generally didn't appreciate being so transparent to me. As I gently pressed the damp cloth against her cut again, she flinched slightly but quickly composed herself. Our eyes met, and for a moment, I felt lost in their green depths.

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