Page 29 of Watch Me Turn
"Shift?" His voice cracks.
I kick off my Chucks, then peel off my jeans. I'm down to my bra and underwear now. Angel doesn't take his eyes off me.
I reach up to remove my hooped earrings first—pop one out, then the other—and set them on the edge of the kitchenette counter. Then place my delicate gold nose ring in the center.
"When I shift into my other form, I can be out in daylight. It's a Maldita-only thing. Very few people—aside from other Malditas—have ever seen us do it. So I'm warning you, it's about to get pretty fuckin' weird."
He shrugs. "This whole thing has been weird. Hit me with your best shot."
I reach back and unclasp my bra, then step out of my underwear. The cool air raises goosebumps across my skin. The tiny hairs along my forearm crackle with energy. They always doright before I turn. It's like my whole body is charging up for what comes next.
"I can't go to my sisters," I babble. "They'll tell La Madre, and she'll be pissed off because I'm not even supposed to be here. So I'm going to fly to Austin to see my cousin Paloma. She's a witch—a human one, not a Maldita, but she knows a lot. If anyone can help, it's P. I'll be quick. A few hours, tops." My throat tightens. "I really don't feel comfortable leaving you alone like this, but I'm out of ideas."
Angel turns back to face me, and there's something curious in his expression—trust mixed with wonder. "I'll be fine, Sophia. Go."
Does he mean that? There's a risk he could die while I'm gone, but I have to take it. Besides, if I catch him in the right light, he almost looks like he's recovering. Sure, there's no color in his cheeks and the dark purple rings under his eyes are deepening by the minute, but he's not wheezing anymore. That has to mean something.
It's not just his rapidly declining health that puts the fear of La Madre into me—it's knowing that leaving such a high-value asset unattended for six hours won't sit well with the client. But I'm doing what any Maldita would: improvising, adapting. I just hope they see it that way.
There are no obvious signs of hidden cameras, so either I'm being paranoid or they're very well concealed. Either way, it doesn't make a difference. I've made my decision.
I rest my hands on my naked hips and clear my throat. Then I address no one in particular.
"Hello there. If you're listening, I'm guessing you've seen my tits already, so this is no surprise. I'm just going out for a short while. I erm... I need a second opinion, but I'll be right back. Okay?"
He raises his eyebrows, “who are you talking to? Do you have cabin fever or something?”
“Just saying a little prayer”
I close the distance between us and lean in to kiss Angel. He reaches to give my bare ass a playful grope and kisses me back with an urgency that makes my stomach flip.
"A few hours," I whisper. "I promise."
He slaps my left butt cheek, and it jiggles against his palm. "Hurry back," he says with a smile. "I want to continue this when I'm at full strength."
"Well, we'll see. You might not want to after you see this next part."
Then I step back and let the change take me.
It starts in my bones—a compression that tingles in my scalp and works its way through my marrow. A restructuring on a molecular level that feels like returning home after a lifetime of travel. My arms elongate and split into wings, black feathers erupting from follicles in a sound like shuffling cards. My face narrows, hardens into a beak. The world shifts perspective as I shrink, my vision sharpening into something both more and less than human sight.
In seconds, I'm standing on taloned feet where the old Sophia once stood.
I tilt my head and fix one black eye on Angel. His jaw has gone slack with shock.
"Holy shit," he breathes.
I spread my wings—test them once, twice—then launch myself upward. The grate opening swallows me whole, and the last thing I hear before the night air catches my feathers is Angel's voice echoing up from below.
"Holy shit."
Then I'm gone, arrowing into the darkness above.
Flying is freedom.Humans and other vampires alike will never understand the feeling of the currents of magic that run between places whipping through your feathers. Or finding the spots where you can press against the edges of the air and feel it collapse like origami.
The journey to Austin should take a regular bird twenty hours. For me, it'll be around three.
There's about an hour until sundown, and the early evening light is bathing everything in a marmalade glow that gives the desolate highways cutting through the arid landscape a magical quality.
