7. Fast Moments

Chapter seven

Fast Moments

W alking alone through the city streets at night feels like a fool’s errand, especially after my recent encounters. The memory of Oliver’s eyes haunts me, those same eyes I thought were just a figment of my imagination, a creation of my mind to cope with some trauma, as the doctors had suggested.

I’m lost in thought, questioning everything. What’s wrong with me? Was Oliver just trying to frighten me, or was there a deeper truth in his words? Glancing at my phone, I notice its battery is nearly dead. It’s been a long day of aimless wandering, unable to face my lectures or the normalcy they represented.

With my headphones dead, the world around me comes into sharp focus. The traffic is noisy, the headlights blinding, making it difficult to see. The street, lined with towering trees whose branches intertwine above, doesn’t seem like a main thoroughfare, yet it’s bustling with activity.

Looking up, I’m momentarily distracted by two cats playfully chasing each other on a sturdy branch. Their carefree antics bring a small smile to my face. But suddenly, a third cat falls from another branch, landing in the middle of the street, right in the path of an oncoming car. Without thinking, I rush into the street, scooping up the stunned cat in my arms. As I lose my balance, the glaring headlights of the approaching car fill my vision. I brace for impact, closing my eyes and feeling a pull – then, just as suddenly, I’m standing in the middle of the road, unharmed, with cars speeding by on either side. A pair of strong arms is holding me, pulling me away from danger.

When I’m set down, the world spins around me, my eyes struggling to focus. A familiar voice breaks through my dizziness. “What the hell was that?” I blink, trying to clear my vision, and find myself looking into those swirling brown and green eyes – Oliver’s eyes. “Did you seriously almost get hit by a car for a stupid cat? Do you have a death wish, or is living with us not thrilling enough for you?” As my surroundings come into focus, I realize we’re in an alleyway. The cat, still safe in my arms, is unharmed. “And what the fuck were you thinking, Hendrik?” Oliver snaps, reaching out and taking the cat from me.

I watch, my breath caught in my throat, as the cat transforms. Its hind legs morph into human legs, and its body shifts into that of a man – Hendrik. He smoothly transitions from feline to human, his clothes magically adjusting to his changing form. Before I can process what I’ve just witnessed, I’m enveloped in a group hug by the triplets. They murmur their thanks before releasing me and turning their attention to their brother. Standing there, in the dim light of the alleyway, surrounded by beings that defy explanation, I realize just how extraordinary my new life is. I’ve saved one of the cat shifters, been rescued by Oliver, and witnessed the magical transformation of a shifter.

The triplets surround me, a mix of gratitude and brotherly teasing in their voices. “You totally saved him,” they insist.

I can’t quite accept their praise. “I don’t really think I did. Oliver saved me,” I reply, the realization dawning on me. Oliver, the one who calls himself a bad guy, had just saved my life. My perception of him begins to shift, the label of ‘bad guy’ not quite fitting anymore.

One of the brothers, possibly Niles, counters my statement. “If it was just one of us that fell, he probably would have just watched. But because you tried to save Hendrik, he saved you. So technically, you saved him.” His logic is a little convoluted but not entirely without merit.

Richard glances at Oliver and nods in agreement. “Yeah, I can’t really see Oliver trying to save us. But hey, glad you’re not freaking out after being that close to him.”

Oliver responds with a nonchalant shrug. “Don’t you guys have nine lives?” he quips.

“Dude, Hendrik’s down to like, four,” one of the brothers retorts.

Oliver’s comeback is dry and a bit harsh. “Not my fault he’s clumsy and stupid.”

The triplets cross their arms in mock offense, and I find myself mirroring their gesture. Oliver dismisses the conversation with a wave of his hand. “Whatever. It’s late.”

Niles teases, “What’s the matter, afraid of the dark?”

That’s when Oliver snarls, his fangs suddenly visible, gleaming ominously in the faint light. The sight triggers a visceral reaction in me; my heart pounds in my chest as I instinctively step back from him, my movement more pronounced than I intended.

He shakes his head in apparent frustration and walks off towards the street. The triplets gather around me, nudging me to follow. I feel a pang of fear at the thought of returning to the house, the events of the evening weighing heavily on my mind. It would be the worst time to admit that I’m too scared to go back, surrounded by beings of the night, yet the thought lingers uncomfortably in my head. Oliver’s actions, both terrifying and protective, have left me with more questions than answers about the true nature of the beings I live with.