An hour later, and those moments beneath the stars had begun to feel to Staci like a distant memory; too sweet, too strange to ever have really been true. A memory – but one she already knew, she’d remember for the rest of her life.
As they sat at the table and talked over coffee, she could feel her skin pleasantly warmed through from the hot water of the shower. She had left her hair down – Steve seemed to really like it this way – and it hung over her shoulders, damp and scented faintly of apple shampoo.
“So can – can you do that shape shift thing, whenever you want?” She asked, watching him as she took another sip of coffee, bare legs folded neatly. “You can control it… Right?”
“Thankfully, yes.” His left hand had been holding her right for the past ten minutes, and his thumb traced slowly over the small bones of her wrist as he talked. “It’s easier when the moon is up; and I have to be outside, with the earth under my feet. Though, if I get a little riled up – it can happen by itself.”
“That’s why you’re always so calm, right?”
“You got it. In one. Can’t be dealing with taking shape every time someone cuts me off at a traffic stop, or I go hearing something I don’t like about the economy.” he grinned good-naturedly at the thought. “Hell, I’d spend more time on four feet than two.”
“That’s kind of a relief,” she looked down at the hand in hers, and placed her free hand on top absentmindedly. “I mean, it’s not something you’d want to be happening when we’re… Ah… You know what I-” Her trailing line of conversation was cut off abruptly when a strange sound came from outside; a kind of wailing nonsense cry, like an animal in pain. “Sweet Jesus Christ! What is that?”
They turned as one towards the open window, and the harsh sound formed itself into words; grating, and strangely phrased. “I hope… Life! Treats you kiiiind…. And I hope, you have aaaaaall, you’ve dreamed of…”
“What in the hell?” Steve was on his feet, moving towards the front door. “It’s past one in the morning!”
“I think that’s meant to be singing.” Staci paused, frowning slightly before getting up and following him. “If you could call it that. Sounds like a cat attacking a violin, and the violin is winning.“
Steve’s confusion was still readily apparent, however. “Yes, but – but what the hell is he doing out there?”
*
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*
“I don’t know,” Staci shrugged. “But, I think he’s trying to do that Whitney Houston song.”
“Huh?” They were out in the hall now, Steve’s hand resting on the door handle.
“You know. The one from the movie.”
“No, I meant-”
Another jarring refrain drifted in, interrupted before its conclusion and restarted from halfway through the previous line as Steve opened the door and looked out. Staci went up on her tip-toes to see over his shoulder, but he stood a half foot taller than her and she couldn’t see a thing. “Who is it?”