My heart pounds and I’m out of breath, but I don’t stop running until I’m out of Central Park and near The Gin Room.It’s closed this time of night, of course, but seeing its familiar sign makes me feel safer.I slip past it and turn onto my block.Within minutes, I’m putting the key into my apartment door and it is then I begin to shake.
I stumble in, drop the bear spray and my phone on the table, and fill a glass of water from the tap.I gulp and struggle to catch my breath.Sweat sticks to my brow and underarms and I look at the digital clock on the oven: 4:42 in the morning.
After downing two glasses of water I drop onto the sofa, phone in hand.I quickly send a message to Paul.This should keep my boss off my back big time.Two guys making out in Central Park who suddenly shift and become wild animals fighting.I watch it again, to prove to myself what I had seen.
I’ve heard of shape-shifters, of course I have, but I’ve always disregarded them as an urban myth, yet now I have proof.And excitingly, I’d put money on being the first journalist in my position.
Quickly I type:Paul, you’re gonna freak, check out this video I took last night.And yes, I’ll accept my pay rise and promotion, thank you very much.
After attaching the video, I grin and hit “send.”
This should secure my job at theDaily Grindfor the next few years.The entire world will be talking about my find, it will go viral, they’ll be discussing it for years to come, and my name will be synonymous with the discovery and the uncovering of a myth—the finding of undisputable facts.
I drag a blanket over myself and close my eyes.Suddenly I’m exhausted.I’ve been on the go for nearly twenty-four hours and the excitement and sprint home has drained me.
When I wake, my neck is stiff and the winter sun is pouring through my window.The clock shows three p.m.
“Fuck.”I sit and grab my phone.How could I have slept for so long?
There is a message from Paul:What planet are you on?Raise?Promotion?For what?There is no attachment.
“Huh?”
I open the message again and rub my eyes.He’s right.There is no attachment.Frantically I search for it.In my exhausted state, I must have not added.But it’s gone.Totally gone.No evidence of its existence on my phone whatsoever.
“How?”I scroll up and down.I close the app and reopen it.But no, there is no video of my wild men in Central Park.
“What the fuck is going on?”I rub my temples.I have no explanation except for the fact I must be going mad.New York City has finally tipped me over the edge and I’ve lost my mind.
My doorbell buzzes.I frown.I’m not expecting anyone and I’m definitely not in the mood for drop-in visitors.
“What?”I press the button and stare at the screen.
My heart skips a beat and my stomach clenches.It’s him.Tall guy with graying hair.The one from the park.
“We need to speak.”He looks left and right.
“About what?”There’s a shake in my voice and I swallow tightly.
He looks directly at the camera as though he can see me watching him.Fuck, he’s handsome.His eyes are the blue of glacial water and his features chiseled.
“Talk about what?”I ask again.
“I think you know.”He nods slowly.“And we need to discuss it.”
“I-I’m not going to let a complete stranger into my home.”
“I’m not a complete stranger, you’ve seen me before.And my name is Elias Rock, I live not too far from here.”
A slight smile, a curl in the corner of his lip, that’s all, but it goes straight to my core.He’s good.I’ll give him that.
“Five minutes, that’s all I ask,” he says.“I’m sure you’ve got questions.”
He’s damn right I have.Like, is he a shifter?Who is the man he was kissing and then fighting?Are there more shifters in New York and are they responsible for the recent killings?My journalist curiosity gets the better of me.Everything my mother told me about strange men evaporates and I hit the entry button.
He must have taken the steps two at a time because he’s at my front door in an instant.I open it a fraction and peer at him in the flesh.
“I’m a good guy, honestly.”He opens the faded aviator jacket he’s wearing to show his white t-shirt and brown leather belt that holds up black jeans.“No weapons, no ziplocks, just a wallet and a phone.”
