Catalyst

Chapter Thirteen

The boy grabbed her shirt and pulled her down, smacking a hand over her mouth and pushing her back into the room.

"What are you, a lunatic? Shut your mouth!" His voice sounded like he looked; young, innocent. Kind of wispy. He was too strong though. He moved her to the bed with no problem, kicking the door closed behind them. Phoebe tried to crawl backward but he kept up with her, one arm around her waist, urging her in that direction anyway. His hand was solid against her teeth, otherwise she would have tried to yell. When she bit down on his palm he grunted. He looked to be eleven or twelve; she should have hurt him somewhat. Kicking out at him, he easily dodged her feet, and she found her back against the bed, one of his legs pressed into her hip.

He pointed a finger at her and got his face very close to hers.

"I'm not here to hurt you. Okay, Shifter? You need to calm your shit storm, you hear me?" He waited for her to nod her head before he continued. "I'm gonna let go of your face. If you scream again and bring them here I will be very, very cross. Alrighty?"

Phoebe nodded, tears brought on by panic pushing on her eyes, and the boy removed his hand from her mouth.

Licking her suddenly dry lips, she tried to sort the different phantom selves she was seeing emanate from him into some kind of list, but it was hard to distinguish one from the other. One looked like a goat, and one might have been a tree with tentacles, and one looked like a boulder with eyes. There were a couple that looked sweet and harmless; a small dog with a bushy tail and a bird with a long, curved beak and big, sad eyes. But some of them were shadowed with smoke, while others were mottled with colors, too bright to really focus on.

The boy watched her eyes and then seemed to nod in agreement to himself about something. The phantoms faded and she could focus on him again.

"You could see them, could you?" he asked.

"Y-yes," she stuttered.

Shit, she let in something she shouldn't have. He was going to kill her. She put her arms on the top of the bed and slowly lifted herself so she was sitting on the edge, watching him for approval or censure. Instead, he crossed his legs and sat yoga style on the floor looking up at her.

He really was an adorable looking boy, now that she could see him without all the monsters crowding around him like a turbulent aura of horror.

His green eyes were large, and he had chubby cheeks, making him look even more cherubic. He was wearing jeans, sneakers, and a red and yellow striped polo shirt. Perfectly normal. On the street, Phoebe wouldn't have even noticed him.

"How did you make them go away?" she asked, keeping her voice purposefully calm and inching backward on the bed closer to the table with the laptop and her duffel, which still had her phone in it.

"I can dim them if need be." He noticed the direction of her squirming. "Whatever weapon you're going for, I would think twice about it. There's not much that can hurt me."

"God, I wish I had a weapon," she muttered.

"I said I wasn't going to hurt you and I meant it. Look, I'm sitting here like a lamb." He gestured to himself, polo shirt and all.

"I would believe that if I hadn't seen what you really are."

"And what am I?" he asked.

"Honestly, I don't know," she said.

"And what are you?"

She took a minute before answering "I don't know that either."