Page 95 of Bitten Shifter

I bump him lightly with my shoulder, forcing a small smile. “I will be fine. I’m nervous—maybe even a little scared. Perhaps a little excited. I guess it’s better to get this over with now.”

“If you need me, call.” His lips tilt in a faint smile. “Remember your code word?”

“Yeah, yeah, funny guy,” I say with an exaggerated eye-roll, failing to hide a grin.

He leans in and presses a soft kiss to my cheek, leaving me with a pang of longing. “Stay safe. I will have your things sent over.”

Riker gives me a sheepish, almost guilty smile as he walks past. “Have fun with the magic stuff,” he teases, though his eyes betray his worry.

“I will,” I promise.

With one last reassuring squeeze of my hand, Merrick and the other shifters disappear down one corridor, while Mary and I head down another.

Her steps are short and shuffling—her pace slow. I adjust mine to match hers and glance back just once before the corridor curves, blocking Merrick, who gives me a final wave, from view.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, my dear,” Mary says kindly. “You must have been terribly frightened. May I ask why you never told anyone you were a technomancer? We are not as bad as you think—if you would have come to us, you would have had nothing to fear. You could have avoided all this unpleasantness.”

“I didn’t even know about my magic until I was fifteen,” I admit. “By then, I’d already been sterilised. I was terrified the human government would find out, and they would kill me to prevent an international incident.”

Mary’s brown eyes widen, her brows knitting in concern. “My goodness, you are quite perceptive. I daresay you were probably right. The human government can be… shortsighted.” She shakes her head, her voice gentler now. “And you have kept this secret all these years? Taught yourself? You were just a little girl.”

“I did what I could,” I say, the words heavier than I intend. “I didn't have a choice. The magic seemed… quite willing, almost eager, once I realised it was tied to my emotions. If I kept myself under control, the magic followed.”

A sparkle lights Mary’s eyes, deepening the lines at the corners. “Remarkable. Truly remarkable. And your magic—it came quite naturally, didn’t it? Quite willing, as you put it.”

I nod, unsure how to elaborate.

She pats my arm gently. “I noticed you scan the chair and the Council’s table. That isn’t something just anyone can do. Your instincts are good, your basic skills are excellent, and you have a deep well of untapped potential. Not many can taste magic.”

“Taste magic?” I echo, surprised. My mind flicks to Lander’s words in the warehouse. I’d been too scared then to consider what he meant.

“Oh yes, dear,” she replies, laughing lightly. “Very rare, very exciting. I haven’t met a technomancer in years. My grandmother was one. Of course, back in her day, technology wasn’t nearly as advanced as it is now. She only had radio waves to work with, and she made them do all sorts of interesting things. But you—oh, with modern technology, I can only imagine your potential.”

She tilts her head, her eyes gleaming with curiosity. “So, tell me—what can you do?”

Hesitantly, I explain my knack for working with computers and networks, tracing and manipulating data.

Mary’s smile grows with every word. “Oh, that’s excellent! Absolutely marvellous! Your human education must have been a great help, giving you a solid understanding of how these systems work. A grasp of technology, blended with magic? You are quite formidable. You are a clever girl.”

“I’m forty-seven,” I say gently, hardly a ‘girl.’

Mary chuckles, the sound soft and chiming. “Eighty-three,” she counters, “and to me, you are a spring chicken. I remember being your age—so young and full of promise. Now look at you, on the cusp of something extraordinary.” She gives my arm a reassuring squeeze. “I’m not sure who’ll learn more, me or you. But I promise, when you leave, you will take away some valuable knowledge, techniques, and, I hope, new friends. And remember this: you are not alone anymore. You have a magical family now.”

I swallow hard, the lump in my throat is making it difficult for me to speak. “Thank you,” I manage, my voice barely above a whisper.

“And you are a shifter too,” she adds, her tone brightening. “You have the shifters, your mate, and I hear you are a sigma. You really are remarkable, Lark. Truly remarkable. May I call you Lark?”

“Yes,” I whisper, my throat still tight. “Of course.”

“Splendid!” Mary exclaims, clapping her hands lightly. “Now, you are probably exhausted after your journey, but I thought we’d work through lunch. There’s so much to do, and I’m eager to begin.”

“That’s fine with me.”

“Excellent! So, what do you like to eat? Do you find yourself leaning more towards a carnivorous diet these days, or do you still enjoy?—”

“Pasta,” I cut in, relieved by such a simple question. “I love pasta.”

Mary’s entire face lights up, as though I’ve just shared a marvellous secret. “Ah, pasta! Do you know, I believe they are making lasagne today!”

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