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The snake shape-shifter grins at me, revealing canine teeth that look like fangs. It is supposed to be intimidating but I cannot help but feel a little smug. This guy has no idea what I really am and is probably going to get one hell of a shock if he ever finds out. Not that I intend him to find out- I just need to keep him distracted until Greg and his team turn up. All I am doing in this little scenario is acting as bait. While I like being helpful I sometimes wish there was another way I could be a part of Greg's plans to catch notorious serial killers. After all, he has no idea that I cannot actually be killed and since he would probably have a heart attack if that little detail ever came to light, I do not plan on telling him anytime soon.
I grin back at the shifter and lean back in my chair, enjoying the look of uncertainty that settles over the man's face. He is obviously not used to people not being scared of him. "So, what did you want to see me about?" I ask, steepling my fingers together and gazing over them at the shifter who is pretending to be a client. He has now idea he has been lured here under false pretences.
The shifter leans forward slightly, and his eyes begin to glow with an unsettling green light that is oddly mesmerising. For a moment I have the urge to give in, to surrender, and a brief wave of dizziness passes over me, swamping my senses and preventing me from thinking straight. But then my powers kick in, clearing my mind of the shifter's pervasive influence. He frowns in response and sits back, his expression darkening. "That's not supposed to happen. Why isn't my hypnosis working on you?" He stands then, trying to regain the upper hand but I stand up as well, easily towering over him and once again stop him becoming the one who is in control of the situation. I refuse to allow him to treat me that way in my own home.
He looks unsure, cornered, and I realise I will have to tread carefully from now on. As I know all too well from personal experience we shape-shifters can be particularly dangerous when we are feeling desperate and trapped. I really do not want to get on his bad side if I can help it. Somehow I need to diffuse the situation while also not doing or saying anything that might raise his suspicions... How hard can it be?! In answer to his question I shrug and try to look nonchalant. "Maybe I'm just immune to it."
The Shifter's eyes flash green again and I see the imprint of scales beginning to stand out on his cheeks. He is close to shifting and in response to this I feel my inner fires rise up within me until my skin is glowing with a faint golden light. Thankfully the shifter doesn't appear to notice and I hastily shove my power down again. Right now it would neither be helpful or a good idea. The moment he finds out I am a mythical shifter the man before me will bolt and Greg will blame me for spoiling what should have been an easy operation. It will also require me having to explain what happened and I am not ready for the humans in my life to find out what I really am just yet. Besides another good reason to keep my temper is the simple fact that mythical shifters are still illegal in the eyes of the law. Mycroft would never forgive me if I was the one to expose our kind to the wider world before they were ready to find out about us.
"Strange, I've never met anyone whose immune to my power before." He says, sounding thoughtful, "Still, there are other ways I can cause pain." Then, and I really should have seen this coming, he shifts- shedding his human skin and shifting into a huge serpent with oily looking black scales that gleam unpleasantly in the light streaming through the window. I can understand now how he managed to kill so many people. Swearing quietly beneath my breath I go to take a step take but before I can he lunges forward, wraps his coils tightly around me so I cannot move, and sinks his long fangs into my shoulder.
Up until now I have managed to keep my shifter self in check but, when twin stabs of pain course down my arm, I am powerless to stop my inner fires from roaring to the surface. My skin lights up from within with a familiar golden glow and my wings burst from my back with enough force to send the snake shifter flying backwards into the wall. He lays there stunned, hissing faintly, and stares up at me with a look of terror in his green eyes. Damn it, this was not how I intended this encounter to go! I'll have to tell Mycroft so he can someone to wipe his mind. I let out a sigh and hang my head. I really need to get better at controlling my emotions. One of these days somebody is going to end up getting hurt.
"Jesus, you're that phoenix shifter! I've heard about you!" The snake shifter gasps, desperatly trying to shift back into his human form so he can make a run for it.
I gaze down at him, trying to work out what the hell I am supposed to do now. Finally I realise with a sinking heart what I have to do. I do not want to do it but I cannot see how I have any other choice. John and Greg have no idea I am a shifter, and I would really like to keep it that way- which means I need to heal the sizeable puncture wounds in my shoulder before they arrive. They might, after all, slightly let the cat out of the bag. First things first though... Taking a deep breath and concentrating hard I draw most of my power deep back into myself, getting rid of the glowing skin and the wings. At least now I look human once again. Once this is done I kneel down beside the shifter and place my hand on his chest. I know my eyes are probably filled with swirling fire right about now but I cannot really bring myself to care. My left arm is already going numb as the shifter's poison takes effect, and to make things worse I hear the faint sound of the front door downstairs slamming open, followed by raised voices as Greg and John come pounding up the stairs towards the flat. I am rapidly running out of time.
Luckily I do not need much energy to heal a wound like this, meaning the worst the snake shifter will have is a slight headache when he wakes up tomorrow morning. Concentrating hard, and feeling a little bad that I cannot spend more time doing it, I quickly channel some of the shifter's life energy into me. He jerks beneath me, his body rebelling but unable to do anything to stop it, and I wince. Normally, when I have more time, I can make sure it does not hurt but right now I do not have that luxury. All I can do is mumble a quick apology to the shifter before focusing the stolen energy on healing my wound, which tingles slightly as the skin knits together and scabs over. Within seconds there is nothing to show it was ever there except a slight reddened patch of skin on my shoulder. Then I stand and survey the room with a critical eye. Unsurprisingly it is something of a mess after the shifter's attack. God only knows how I'll explain this to Greg and John. There is still a rip in my shirt after all and an alarming amount of blood. John is going to freak out when he sees it...unless- yes, that might just fool them if I hurry.
Knowing that John and Greg will be coming through the door at any minute I grab the letterknife I keep embedded in the mantle beneath the mirror and plunge it into my shoulder. It is less painful than the snake bite had been but I still let out a string of swear words as I fight against my natural healing ability. Not yet, not yet. First John and Greg need to see it. I can already feel the effort sapping my strength and I realise with a wry smile that I will sleep well tonight.
Then I slump back into my chair and quickly shove the knife out of sight beneath the cushions just as John and Greg burst through the front door of the flat. They both stagger to a halt and almost trip over their own feet when they catch sight of the huge snake sprawled in the doorway leading into the kitchen. Ahh, I forgot to come up with a story of how I actually managed to defeat the shifter. Oh well, hopefully they'll be so shocked they will forget to ask me about it.
"Bloody hell!" swears John, his gaze drifting from the snake and falling on me instead. I watch with interest as the colour drains from his face. Humans are fascinating creatures to observe and I can understand why Mycroft enjoys doing it so much. Which reminds me- I need to tell him to find someone to wipe the shifter's memory of any trace of me. "Sherlock! Oh my god, are you alright?" He rushed to my side, sucking in a sharp breath when he notices the wound in my shoulder. With gentle fingers he lightly probes it, probably checking how deep it is and how quickly I will need to be treated. "You're injured." he says in a hurt voice, glaring over at Greg. It is clear who he blames for this happening.
I give him a tentative smile in return and slowly sit up, despite his protests not to. "I'm fine, John. In fact I'm pleased to say that I think I dealt with the serial killer remarkably well on my own." I know that I probably sound smug and I know John hates it but I need to convince him that the scene he sees before him is the truth. I cannot let him think anything else. He cannot know the truth. I just know it would poison our relationship if it ever came to light and I refuse to let that happen. I have always held John in high regard and I do not want anything to destroy that- even if it means being dragged to the hospital for stitches I do not technically need... It's funny really, the things we are prepared to do for those we care about. I just hope John is worth it in the end...