Shift In The Right Direction Ch. 03

"Oh my god oh my god oh my god... What the...?!" Charlotte dropped the tee shirt and backed into the wall behind her. She wrapped her arms protectively around her body to cover her nakedness. He must still be in the house! She kept shaking her head as if to deny the thoughts that were forming there. What the hell is going on?! How did he get in here? How could this be real?

Suddenly, she thought she saw movement in her left peripheral vision, just on the other side of the open door of the linen closet. Too frightened to look, but unable to stop herself, Charlotte inched to her right and reached out a tremulous hand to slam the closet door closed and reveal what was lurking behind it.

Nothing.

Her heart was still pounding violently in her chest. She looked further toward the living room. Her eyes wide, stomach muscles tensed, she tiptoed past the bathroom toward the archway so she could see into the part of the living room that was out of view. An old floorboard creaked under foot; she paused, holding her breath. No sound but that of her own thunderous heartbeat.

She forced herself to continue. As she neared the opening, she took a deep breath and held it. Charlotte eased forward and peered around into the living room.

HE WAS THERE, NAKED, SITTING ON THE SOFA AND STARING STRAIGHT AT HER!

She screamed so loudly that she didn't hear what he was trying to say. He had one hand raised up, palm out, in her direction. "Lucas" began to rise from the sofa. Charlotte sprang into action and ran back into the bedroom, slamming and locking the door.

"Get out of here! I mean it! I'm calling the police!" She yelled through the door, her ear pressed to the wood to see if he was following her.

Nothing.

She whirled around realizing with frustration that she left her cell phone in her handbag, which was on the chair in the foyer. It had been years since she'd bothered with a landline. Charlotte snatched her robe off the back of a chair where she'd carelessly left it earlier, and shrugged into it, tying the belt tightly around her waist. She needed to think.

She slid nervous fingers through her hair and tried to focus. Email! She could get help by using her computer. She looked over at her desk, thinking about which of her friends she should email.

Then, she heard the telltale floorboard creak. He must be standing on the other side of the bedroom door!

Charlotte stepped quietly over to the door to brace against it with her body. She again pressed an ear to the raised wood panel, listening with all her might.

"Charlotte, please don't be frightened." He said softly. His voice was soft and soothing. Despite her terror, Charlotte felt herself responding to this velvety deep voice yet again.

"I am so sorry I scared you. This was very clumsy of me. You have to know that I would never, never hurt you. Please believe me."

Charlotte, the side of her face still pressed to the bedroom door, closed her eyes and swallowed to ease the dry tightness of her throat. Her heartbeat had begun to slow down, and her breathing, while still a bit ragged, was going back to normal.

"Will you open the door, my darling? Will you allow me to explain?"

"What do you want from me?" She asked, near to tears.

"Oh Charlotte... I don't want anything that you don't wish to give. Please, my beautiful girl; let me tell you everything."

She heard the linen closet door open, followed by the sound of fabric rustling. He was probably getting dressed again, she thought. Is that a good sign or a bad sign?... she wondered.

Her fear subsiding, she began to get mad. Really mad.

"Hey, HOW did you get in my house? Were you ACTUALLY here last night? Did you DRUG me or something? WHY didn't I see you in the living room when I was there not ONE MINUTE before? And WHERE THE HELL IS MY CAT?!" At this last question, Charlotte rammed her fist against the door.

She heard the soft sound of his laughter on the other side. This infuriated her. Not even thinking rationally, she grabbed the first thing she saw that approximated a blunt object - an umbrella. She unlocked the door and pulled it open.

"You're laughing at me now?!" She held the umbrella in two hands, like baseball bat, and was glaring at Lucas. He seemed even further amused by her fierce stance, but attempted to stop himself from laughing and irritating her even further. He backed away a few steps, his hands up in an "I come in peace" gesture.

In spite of her emotional state, Charlotte noted that he'd only put on the torn jeans, and hadn't even completed buttoning them. His torso was still bare and his taut abdominals rippled down, flanked on either side by the lines of his pelvic muscles, converging into the vee of his unfastened jeans, where a small patch of dark hair was just visible.

What Charlotte couldn't yet see was that Lucas was already becoming aroused at the sight of her. Her red silk kimono did little to hide her athletic curves, and her auburn hair was a wild tangle about her pale skin - a flush of deep pink creating a contrast in her cheekbones and her lips. Her skin still glistened from the oil he'd recently massaged into her skin.

There was a moment of awkwardness as Charlotte's temper began to cool and they found themselves face-to-face, only semi-clothed. The memory of their incredibly hot massage session suddenly flashed through Charlotte's mind as she regarded his large but well-shaped, lean hands. What those hands had done to her body, how that hard chest felt under her hands while blindfolded, the way his narrow, muscular hips had thrust into her willing flesh with such deliberate passion - all of this was suddenly filling Charlotte's overwrought senses.

Her eyes locked with his, and her defensive stance faltered. She lowered her hands and allowed the umbrella to slide to the floor. His dark gray eyes seemed to consume her. She noticed that the room had become very hot and had started to spin, and there was a loud buzzing in her ears. Charlotte didn't even realize that this meant she was about to faint until her knees began to buckle.

Lucas caught her up in his arms and gently deposited her on the bed. He disappeared for a moment, only to return with a cold cloth that he placed on her feverish forehead.

She felt as if she was underwater - sounds were coming to her from a muffled distance, and she was floating slowly to the surface. As she began to feel more herself again, she looked earnestly up at Lucas, who was lying next to her on the mattress, holding the cool cloth against her temples.

"Can you sit up?" He asked gently. She nodded, and allowed him to help her sit up against the pillows he'd propped behind her. He refolded the wet towel and placed it under her hair on the back of neck. Charlotte closed her eyes and sighed at the sensation of the cool moist fabric and his strong hands.

When she reopened her eyes, he was watching her face with a sober, anxious crease in his handsome brow.

"Forgive me." He said solemnly.

"Tell me what you think I'm forgiving you for." She countered, her wits returning to her at last.

"For upsetting you this way, and for bursting into your life and making you afraid, when all I really wanted was to be near you."

"I don't know if I can forgive you, when I still don't understand what is happening here. Tell me I'm not insane and that this is not some sort of breakdown. Start at the beginning, please, and tell me what is going on. Who are you?"

"I have been called many names. Of them all, I prefer Lucas. And I especially like hearing you call me by that name." He flashed a smile at Charlotte that caused her already nervous stomach to flip over. She smiled very slightly, but nodded to encourage him to continue.

"I come from a long, ancient family line. But I have not been home in a very long time. I live like a gypsy, traveling the world, never living in one place for very long. Would you believe me, I wonder, if I told you how old I really am?"

"Try me." She said, half afraid to hear his answer.

"As a boy, I sat amid the philosophers of ancient Greece. Socrates was a friend of my father. I am the son of an aristocrat, and a great General in the Peloponnesian War. The name I bore then was also the name of my father, pronounced "La-kez" in Greek. This is why I prefer to be called Lucas."

"The Peloponnesian War, and Socrates. So... we're talking several centuries before Christ, right? Which makes you what - about 3000 years old? Give or take a few hundred years? You look pretty good."

Charlotte's voice was laced with sarcasm. She was wondering when the punch line was coming. At least, she hoped a punch line was coming, otherwise she was lying next to a lunatic.

Lucas laughed almost indulgently, and tussled her curly hair.

"Do you want to hear my story, or not?" He asked patiently.

"Oh, I do - I definitely do. Please go on. This is fascinating." She was laughing too.

Lucas paused for a moment, a warm look crossed his handsome face, and he leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers. Charlotte hesitated for the briefest of moments before responding to his kiss at first timidly, and then with greater intensity. His hand was cradling her jaw, and Charlotte felt herself become wet, her body crying out for more even while her mind was still confused. This kiss touched her in an unusual way - setting off a strange sensation akin to being a little high. Charlotte felt herself relaxing, her mind opening up to the sound of his voice.

He raised his head, smiling ruefully as he sat up and prepared to continue his tale.

"You are too distracting. Let me keep going before I lose all my concentration." She felt a vague disappointment, but as she looked into his large gray eyes, the feeling was replaced by a sharp desire to hear him talk about himself.

"My father was an amazing man; brave, yet visionary -- someone who strove for peace, despite being a successful military man. There were many at that time that would have eliminated his pacifistic leadership: people with vested interests - powerful people. One day, when I was in my twenties, some of these people abducted me. Though I had many brothers, I was my father's favorite. It was their intention to force him to bend to their wishes and break the treaties we'd forged with Sparta. I was beaten, blindfolded, and taken away by ship. They left me on an island with a small contingent of guards. I was wounded and starving, and surely would have died."

As Charlotte listened to the story, her skepticism began to wane. She became swept up in the sound of his voice, and leaned back, closing her eyes. She could see the story unfolding in her mind as if she'd witnessed every moment. She saw the young version of Lucas, dressed in a torn robe, lying on a bed of straw in a stone hut by the sea. His head was caked in dried blood, and his face was gaunt and pale. A bowl containing a few scraps of moldy bread lay uneaten on the floor, alongside an earthenware jug. As Lucas slept fitfully, she could hear a slight rattle in his breathing, as if he had fluid in his lungs. Her heart ached for this abused young man. Lucas's voice penetrated her consciousness, as he continued the story.

"Then she came." He said quietly.

Charlotte looked toward the high narrow windows of the young Lucas's prison, and saw a bright light raying downward. The flutter of wings caused a strange pattern on the wall opposite the window, and dust motes flew around the small, stifling room. A small owl appeared, perching on the window ledge. As the owl's head pivoted toward Lucas, Charlotte could have sworn that it paused for a moment and looked her straight in the eye. Then the bird's large round eyes settled on Lucas where he lay on the straw. The owl flew off the window ledge, and hovered in the air for a moment, wings flapping, and the swirling dust and flickering light temporarily blinded Charlotte. She closed her eyes, rubbing at them with her fists. When she'd reopened them, she regarded not an owl, but a tall, handsome woman dressed in gray robes. Her honey-colored hair was long and straight, and a garland of laurel leaves adorned the crown of her head.

She stepped carefully over to where Lucas lay, and knelt down beside him. Taking the hem of her gown in her hand, she poured out water from the jug, and began to wipe away the blood. Lucas was roused by this, and looked up at her wonderingly. He was about to speak, but she stilled his lips with a finger.

"Hush, my boy." She said. Her voice was soothing and strangely resonant.

"They knew not whom they'd taken. This folly will not go unanswered. But it is time for you to know your true nature, and use the gifts that are your birthright." At this, she placed her palm across Lucas's forehead, and smiled gravely down on him. Charlotte felt she must be dreaming, because as she looked on, Lucas had been transformed into a gray hawk with a tuft of black feathers on his head. The hawk cried out, and tested his wings, spreading them out to his sides.

The gray lady then turned to look straight into Charlotte's eyes.

"Do you know who I am?" She asked. Charlotte was startled, and looked behind her in the small hut to see whom the lady could be addressing.

"Yes, I'm speaking to you, my young one. Will you care for him?" Her resonant voice seemed to vibrate in Charlotte's bones.

She turned back to look at her. The lady had risen, and was holding the hawk aloft on her wrist, which was covered with a leather sleeve. Her garb had changed. She was no longer in gray robes, but instead was in battle garb: a knee length leather skirt and chest armor, a plumed helmet on her proud head.

"You can see me? This is really happening? I don't understand - is this a dream?" Charlotte was stammering, unable to take it all in. The goddess tilted her head slightly, and pursed her lips before answering.

"Surely, it's not the first time you've heard of a divine message that was delivered in a dream..."

"But...how can this be? I don't - I can't believe it." Charlotte was shaking her head with confusion.

The goddess smiled, and let forth a throaty laugh. "Some things just are, whether you believe them or not."

At this, she turned toward the wooden door, which opened as she approached. She walked out, still carrying the hawk. Charlotte followed, her head spinning with so many questions. The setting sun created a golden light across the sky, and glittered on the surface of the sea before them.

"Why me?" It was the only question her tangled thoughts could muster.

Athena looked back, regarding her thoughtfully.

"He chose you." She said simply, shrugging her shoulders slightly.

The hawk spread out his wings, eager to take flight. Athena smiled at him, whispering something very near his head, then extended her arm and let him fly free. He let out one long scream as he flew high, circled downward, and then swept just over the heads of the two women.

"Now change back." The goddess commanded. The hawk flew back down toward the earth, and as he came in for a landing, as his wings flapped to slow his approach, Charlotte watched his body transform again into his human self. The last things to change were his eyes, which for a moment retained their hawk's shape and color before returning to normal. He was no longer wearing any clothes. His head was healed, his body was no longer gaunt and thin - and he looked like the Lucas that Charlotte knew now.

He smiled at Charlotte, and walked toward her. As he reached her side, he looked toward the goddess, who had removed her helmet and was taking off the leather glove.

"Thank you, Grandmother." He said to her. Suddenly now his voice was also resonant, and echoed in Charlotte's bones.

"I am always here." She said in return, smiling benevolently upon him. "But it is time. We all must go."

No sooner had she uttered those words, than did Charlotte realize she was back in the present, in her bed, and Lucas was gently stroking her check with his forefinger.

She opened her eyes and looked up at him, not trusting herself to speak yet.

Lucas leaned down and placed gentle kisses on her brow, her eyelids, her cheeks and finally her lips. She returned his kiss with the same tentative restraint. There was still too much to process.

"What just happened?" Charlotte suddenly felt very sleepy. She was dimly aware that this was some sort of defense mechanism; that her body needed to shut down for a while until she could make some sense of everything that had happened that day.

"I think you need to sleep, my darling. There's time to answer all your questions later." He said softly, his lips in her hair.

"I need to sleep..." she replied in a drowsy voice. Her eyes were already closing.

"Do you want me to go?" He asked, his tone made it clear that he feared her answer.

"No - stay. Please." She replied - her arms winding around him as she sank down into oblivion. "Don't disappear on me..." she murmured as sleep finally overcame her frazzled brain.

"Never." He answered, tightening his arms around her.

A few hours later, Charlotte awoke. An orange glow streamed into her bedroom, which meant that it must be sunset. For a moment or two, she was disoriented. Then everything came rushing back to her. She sat up, alarmed, looking about her. Her lovely cat was perched near the foot of the bed, and was regarding her very intently. His tail flicked from side to side.

"Uh... okay. So am I just crazy? Or was that the most realistic dream I've ever had in my life?" She asked the feline Lucas. He rose elegantly and walked up the length of her body, purring gently as he rubbed his head against her cheek. She scratched behind his ear. He let out a soft mew, and then moved his sandy tongue along her jaw. He kept licking her, moving up to her ear. Charlotte closed her eyes, laughing at the tickling sensation, surprised at how strange this behavior was.

All at once, she realized that the sandiness was gone, and that she felt lips against her ear and the bed next to her was now heavy as if a body were next to her. She opened her eyes and looked up into the face of the human Lucas. Only his eyes were still feline. She gasped aloud and began to struggle away but he caught her up and held her still. His eyes morphed into their human shape and contours while she regarded him.

Resisting the urge to scream, Charlotte, wide-eyed, stared up at him. She realized that her crazy dream had been no dream. She'd witnessed him turn into a hawk and change back again, and now a cat - her cat.

"Oh my god - What are you?" She was breathless with excitement and fear.

"Some cultures call us shape shifters. The Navajos call us skin walkers. We have many names."

"Are you human? Oh god, I can't believe I'm even asking this question... "

"I'm part human - mostly human, in fact. This ability is one of the few things I've inherited from my grandmother."

"Your grandmother the GODDESS, is that the one?? Do you know how insane this all is? I'm clearly having some kind of psychotic break..." Charlotte now struggled out of his arms and had slid over to the far side of the bed. She noted that he was naked again. She shut her eyes and turned away from the sight of him, lest she begin to melt to the physical attraction and lose her mind completely.

"Why can't you believe your own eyes? I showed you how I can shift, yet you still refuse to see. And why can you not believe your own heart? You claim to not believe me, and yet you are still drawn to me. You cannot deny that you and I are connected." He voice was calm and velvety, and was going straight to her head.

"I DON'T UNDERSTAND!" She exclaimed, tears coming to her eyes. "How am I supposed to accept this? It is just not possible! These are myths and stupid folk tales - they're not supposed to be real! I feel like I've gone crazy."