Curious, he nodded. At the moment it was tough to envision Jenny growing old even if he knew it was going to happen to her.
She booted up her computer and opened the photo section. “This is the original. I took it of myself this morning.”
He gazed at the image. It was a simple headshot, looking straight into the camera, with her hair pulled away from her face.
She said, “You’re not supposed to smile. They need a picture with a neutral expression. Eyes open, mouth closed, and flat, even lighting.”
Noah asked, “Where’s the aged version of it?”
“Here.” She opened another photo file. “It’s a series of them.” She clicked on the first one. “Me at thirty.”
“You don’t look any different.”
“I know.” She laughed a little. “But it’s only two years from now.” A second click. “This is me at forty.”
The image was still beautiful, but definitely changed. Jenny, more mature. She would probably be a wife and mother at that stage of her life. He didn’t want to think about who her husband would be. Casting himself in that role wasn’t a fantasy he was willing to buy into, but envisioning her with someone else gave him a piercing feeling in his gut.
He didn’t like this experiment.
She kept going. “This is me at fifty.”
Would her kids be teenagers by then?
“Me at sixty.”
The changes were much more significant now. Threads of gray in her hair, more pronounced lines on her face.
She said, “And finally, at seventy.” She showed him the last image. “It’s weird because my grandma never made it to seventy. Yet here’s an idea of what I will look like. Technology is amazing, isn’t it?”
Amazing. Disturbing. Noah had been born when photography was still a new medium, and now he was knee-deep in the computer era.
“It’s time to do yours.” She got her camera and aimed it at him. “Remember—don’t smile.”
“Do I look like I’m interested in smiling?”
“Actually, you look like an ogre.”
As soon as she snapped the picture, he made a ridiculous face, ruining the shot.
“Hey!” She laughed.
He couldn’t help but laugh, too. They obviously had the same silly sense of humor. “That’s what you get for calling me an ogre.”
“Be serious now.”
He allowed her to take another picture, and this time he behaved, keeping a neutral expression.
She uploaded it onto her computer and logged in on the age-progression site. By now she was a pro. She obviously knew exactly how to use the software. Noah grabbed a chair and sat beside her.
After she put his picture into the system and it appeared on the screen, she created a profile on him that included his gender, current age, and ethnicity.
She narrated as she typed. “A twenty-eight-year-old Native American male.”
The software didn’t know that he’d been twenty-eight since the previous century, so it processed the information just fine.
“I wonder what would happen if we put in a picture of me as a shapeshifter?” he asked, as she proceeded with the setup.
“I guess it would age you looking like that. That would be strange, wouldn’t it?”
It all was strange, as far as he was concerned.
She explained, “This program has effects you can add, like smoking, sun exposure, and obesity. I didn’t use any of them on mine. I don’t smoke, I wear sunscreen, and I don’t plan on gaining a significant amount of weight.”
“Most people don’t.”
“True.” She smiled. “But I hope to stay active when I’m older.”
“And I’m going to be an active twenty-eight-year-old forever,” he quipped.
“Spoilsport.”
“Hey, at least I’m letting you do this dang progression. And who wouldn’t want to stay twenty-eight forever?”
“I wouldn’t want to be a lonely twenty-eight-year-old for the rest of my life.”
“I’m not lonely.”
“That’s because you have me. But when I’m too old to be your partner, you’re going to be lonely for my companionship.”
He frowned at the thought. He did enjoy being with her. He enjoyed it too damned much. “If we were meant to be a couple, we would have been born in the same era.”
“Don’t forget about my blood tie to the magic, Noah.”
He didn’t want to talk about the blood tie. “Come on, let’s just do this.”
“All right. Here we go.” She didn’t add any of the effects. She kept him as a nonsmoker, with minimal sun exposure, and no obesity.
Less than a minute later, the results were in. Noah at thirty, at forty, at fifty, at sixty, at seventy. He stared at each frame.
“This is freaky.” He gestured to the fifty-year-old image, memories skimming the surface of his long-ago mind. “It looks like my dad.
Erke
.”
“Ith-Key?” She repeated it the way he pronounced it. “Was that your dad’s name?”
“No.
Erke
means ‘father’ in my language. He was a good man. Strong. Proud. He hated living in Indian Territory. That’s why he took us to Mexico with the Seminole rebellions. We were one of the last families to return to Indian Territory. He held out as long as he could.”
She put her hand on his knee. “You must have looked like him when he was younger, too.”
“Truthfully, I don’t remember what he looked like when he was my age. But I was just a kid then.”
“How many children were in your family? How many brothers and sisters did you have?”
“No brothers. I was the only son, the youngest. I had two older sisters. Emma and Lilly. They were both married with daughters of their own. My little nieces. My mother doted on them.”
“You sound proud of them, too.”
“They were sweet girls. Toddlers the last time I saw them.” But their chubby young faces were just a blur. Everyone he’d once loved was misty to him. Like ghosts in the rain.
She kept her hand on his knee. “Your family must have wondered what happened to you. They must have been worried when you never returned from your trip.”
“It doesn’t matter now. The past is the past.”
“I want a future with you, Noah.”
“You want a future with him.” He frowned at the age-enhanced images of himself. “But the man in those pictures doesn’t exist.”
“He does to me. And I’m going to find out why the
sapiya
connected us to each other.”
“Are you still hell-bent on doing your family tree?”
She nodded. “You could do yours, too. You could find out who your descendants are.”
He shook his head. He didn’t want to know what happened to his nieces or their kids or grandkids. Nor did he want to know when his parents or his sisters had died. He’d buried them a long time ago in his mind.
“You can do whatever you want with your family,” he said. “But I’m leaving mine alone.”
Two days later, Jenny worked on her family tree. The Internet instructions she’d printed said to begin with a single surname or individual. Since her father had left before she’d been born and she knew virtually nothing about him or his family, she focused on her mother’s side for now, using her grandpa as the “individual” whose roots she was tracing.
As evening rolled around, she sat on her living room floor with Matt, sorting through dusty old boxes. Her mom and Matt’s dad had been siblings, so she’d asked her cousin to come to her house and bring old photos, documents, or anything else he might have on hand about their family. She gathered what she had, as well, a lot of which had come from the attic, where Grandpa had stored it.
“What’s your sudden interest in creating a family tree?” Matt asked.
“It’s just a bug I got.” She wasn’t about to tell him that she was searching for an ancestor who practiced magic because she was trying to make Noah mortal. Nor could she tell him about the
sapiya
or how they’d offered to help, if they ever showed up again.
Matt would think she’d gone bonkers.
He paged through a photo album, stopping to look at pictures of his parents. “This was about a year before they broke up. Talk about a bitter divorce. Then my dad goes and dies.”
“I know. I’m sorry.” His father suffered a heart attack soon after the divorce. Matt had just graduated from high school. “I know how hard it was on you.”
“Grandpa had a tough time of it, too. First he loses Grandma, then your mom, then my dad.”
Jenny nodded. By the time Grandpa passed away, his wife and both of his children were already gone.
Matt said, “Grandpa sure did right by us. Raising you the way he did and giving us what he could.”
She nodded again. She’d received the house and the rescue, and Matt had been the beneficiary of a life insurance policy. “I still miss him.”
“Me, too. I wonder what he would think of you doing a family tree?”
Or falling in love with a mountain lion shapeshifter? she thought. Taking a chance, she asked, “Did Grandpa ever mention anyone named Lareina to you?”
He scrunched up his face. “Not that I can recall. Why? Who is she?”
She fudged a response. “I’m not sure. But I seem to remember hearing the name.”
“Wasn’t one of our great-aunt’s named Leanne or Luanne or something? Maybe you’re mixing it up.”
“Her name was Joanne. And she wasn’t a blood relative. She was married into the family. I’m more interested in direct descendants.”
“Is that what you think this Loraine lady is?”
“Lareina.”
“That’s what I meant.” He got sidetracked by the photo album on his lap. He turned the page and grinned. “Hey, look at these. They’re from my twelfth birthday. Check out the snowboard I got. Boy, is that a dinosaur now.”
Jenny sighed. Trust Matt. Now he was prattling about every snowboard, skateboard, and surfboard he’d ever owned. He couldn’t get Lareina’s name right, but by damn, he knew what brand was what.
She studied her cousin. If she was connected to the magic, then he was, too, as long as it came from that side of the family. But somehow Matt didn’t seem like part of it. Did that mean she was focusing on the wrong family?
For all Jenny knew, she was grasping at straws.
Hours later, after Matt left, she stretched her achy muscles, overwhelmed by it all. She wished the
sapiya
would reappear and provide the opportunity to chase them. Or better yet, she wished one of them would simply give itself to her.
Exhausted, she closed up the boxes. But before she shut the flap on the final box, a little stone jumped out and landed straight into her hand.
Making her wish come true instantly.
Fourteen
J
enny closed her hand around the stone, ensuring that it didn’t pull a fast one and leap away.
���You’re mine,” she said. “I own you.”
“Yes,” a small lone voice answered.
Slowly she opened her hand and gazed at the
sapiya
. It sat motionless in her palm. “Thank you for giving yourself to me.”
“You’re welcome.”
So polite. So sweet. Although its surface was plain, she imagined it with a happy face: dots for eyes and a curved line for a mouth.
“Put me in a container,” it said. “Give me a home.”
She considered what type of home it should have. Something special, she decided. “I have a trinket box that belonged to my grandfather.”
“That will be nice.”
She carried the stone into her bedroom. “Is it all right if I set you down while I get it?”
“Yes.”
She placed the
sapiya
on her dresser. The wooden box was on a shelf in her closet. She lifted it carefully and carried it over to the stone.
“Should I remove the contents before I put you in it?” She opened the hinged lid. “It’s just some old coins and a few tie clips Grandpa wore when he was younger.”
“The items can stay.”
She placed the
sapiya
in its new home, which was lined in red velvet. It hopped around for a bit, then settled beside a tarnished-silver tie clip.
“I’ll bring Lareina to you,” it said.
She responded, “I have a plan regarding that.”
After she explained, the
sapiya
said, “I’ll put her in the empty enclosure at first light, before the rescue opens. Also, you should know that Lareina is not your ancestor. The magic descends from a woman named Taika.”
“How am I related to Taika?”
“She comes from your father’s side.”
So she had been focusing on the wrong family tree.
The
sapiya
added, “Taika was a sorceress, and she cast a spell that turned Lareina into a shapeshifter.”
“She cursed Lareina?”
“No. Lareina wanted to become a lion. She paid Taika for the spell. But it was an ancient incantation, not something that Taika formulated herself.”
Jenny sat on the edge of the bed and placed the box next to her. “If my ancestor cast the spell, then that must mean I have the power to break it.”
“Lareina can provide that information.”
“What if she doesn’t want me to break it? Are you sure I can trust her?”
“I will confirm if her responses are genuine.”
Did that mean the
sapiya
knew as much about the spell as Lareina did? Nerves bundled with excitement. “Can I call Noah? Can he be there?”
“The conversation should be between you and Lareina. Noah’s presence would complicate the matter.”
“Then I’ll do it on my own.”
The stone moved to the other side of the box. “Before Taika died, she saw your face in a vision. She didn’t know your name or what your future entailed, but she could tell that you were one of her descendants. Your resemblance to her was clear.”
Jenny couldn’t be more awed. “How do you know so much about Taika?”
“I used to belong to her.”
She was equally awed about that. She hadn’t expected such a deep connection. But it made sense why the
sapiya
had gotten involved in her life, too. “How did Taika die?”