Page 61 of Phoenix Academy: Madness

He paces away from me, then sits down cross-legged on the mat. I join him, leaving some space between us, because I sense that this is a big conversation for him, and I don't want him to feel like I'm forcing anything.

The truth is, the question of why he is the way he is, different from the other shifters, has plagued me since we first met. I just never knew who to ask without getting my head bit off. Now that I finally have my chance it's the first thing I want to know about him—and, I think, the key to understanding who he is.

"It's a long story," he warns me. "Or, really, a long explanation. And a kind of depressing one. You might not like what you hear."

"I think I'll be okay." As I remind him, "My birth father is kind of a soulless homicidal maniac who tried to bleed me dry, remember? You saw him. Nothing can be worse than that."

"Oh, this is pretty gruesome. But I do have to admit you have me beat." He makes a mirthless sound that's not quite a laugh. "Very well. So here's how it started: I was friends with Xavier when we were both kids. In summer camp, that is—we didn't grow up in the same hometowns, since he's from New York and I'm from Kentucky. So he uh knew me..."

There's an awkward silence as David trails off. With a sigh, he pushes a hand through his hair and admits, "I don't really know how to do this. I guess I should just skip ahead."

"Take your time."

"No." He shakes his head. "It'll be easier to pull the bandage off all at once. Okay, so here's the bloody truth: I almost died in a car accident because my father was a drunk who didn't give a shit about his kid."

I wince at the vitriol in David's voice, and at the news that we share a membership in the Shitty Fathers Club. A very exclusive, very unpleasant place to be in together. At least we know we're not alone in it.

"I'm sorry," I tell him. "Sucky dads suck."

"Yeah, they do." Clearing his throat, he continues the story. "When it happened, he was driving me out of camp down this really rural road. It was so far away from the nearest hospital that it was going to take a good thirty minutes for them to show up. And because he was late to pick me up, all the other cars had already gone ahead. We were alone on the road. Until... until Xavier showed up."

There's a melancholy tone to his voice that paints a sad, lonely picture. I can imagine everything he doesn't say: how scared he was, how much pain he was in, and worst of all, what it feels like to know you're about to die. I felt that in the cabin, so recently yet so long ago, and I wouldn't wish that feeling on my worst enemy. Well, except for one.

"I didn't know until then that Xavier was a shifter. When he showed up, it was in panther form, and I was terrified. So he ran off to get his parents, who he'd made pull over on the side of the road because... well, he says he sensed something was off, but I think the truth is that he smelled my blood."

"Gross." I wrinkle my nose.

"Yeah." David chuckles, but it's a quiet sound. In his mind he's back there on the side of the road bleeding out, I can tell. "Anyway, did the twins ever tell you that their mother is a nurse? That's relevant. So they turn the car around to find the wreck... my dad was, at this point, passed out on the side of the road, because he'd broken his leg and chose to treat his pain with whiskey rather than give me first aid. I wasn't... I wasn't doing well."

"You don't have to go on," I tell him softly, as he wrestles with the next part. "We can always wait for another evening."

"No. I want... I want to tell it now. While things are still like this for a little while.” Then, wordless, he reaches out. I scoot forward to take his hand. We put them together on the ground between us, relaxed and warm, easy as pie. "So. What happened next? Well, right. This part I don't remember much, but Reggie says it was bloody and gross. His mom did first aid. His dad pulled us away from the wreck and helped stabilize me and straighten my dad's leg. But the ambulance was taking forever. I was still bleeding so much. And I'm type O negative, so. Only the twins could give me blood."

There's something significant in this I don't understand, but I wait patiently for it all to make sense, afraid that if I ask too many questions I'll pop the strange and wonderful bubble we're in. He's so vulnerable right now, so human andreal,that I dread the world returning to the one where all he ever does is scowl and frown and cross his arms.

"Anyway. His mom didn't want to, but she let Xavier give me blood, because he insisted. I was passed out by this point, but again Reggie has told me things. Apparently X cursed." A white flash of teeth as David smiles, the expression grim and mirthless. "He was so mad at his mom because he thought she might let me die. So she gave in, and let him give me blood. She warned him there would be consequences, but he thought they would be for himself. He was ready to pay the price. He never thought I would."

I'm starting to catch up now.

Their incredible bond.

The fact that when we met, they were training together in the woods in shifter form.

How shifting comes so easily to most of the shifters, but is a struggle for David—sometimes in, sometimes out.

The way he looks at Xavier sometimes, when he thinks no one can see: worshipful, dedicated, like a soldier-in-arms and not just a friend.

It's because he owes Xavier his life.

And something else.

"You weren't born a shifter," I surmise, all of it clicking together in my mind at once. "Xavier's blood turned you into one."

"Yeah." Another humorless smile, with a bit of bitter pain folded into it. "The thing is, I didn't turn out right."

Chapter 29

"I didn't even knowthat could happen," I admit, as David falls silent, apparently temporarily out of words. "I mean, surely shifters donate blood atsomepoint. And doctors would've noticed by now if that happened every time... it must've been a lot of blood."

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