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Emma scowled. “That sounds rather spiritual for a woman of science. Logan said mentioned the prophecy. What was he talking about?”

Dr. Wise warmed to the topic, always ready to discuss the lore she’d been studying for decades. “Most shifters can only change into one kind of animal. However, a multimorph is being who can shift into multiple forms. The multimorph is meant to unite the shifter clans and herald a prolonged time of peace, usually by bringing all the shifters together against a common enemy. Really, multimorph isn’t the original term to describe it, but it’s the closest modern English terminology, and it stuck.”

“Is that so?” Emma’s mouth twisted in disgust. “I’m not sure I believe in the whole prophecy mumbo-jumbo of it all.”

“That’s a reasonable response,” Dr. Wise agreed. “Everything about this is foreign to you. While none of my family is a shifter, and I am not a shifter, my first husband was one. Since then, I’ve been trying to collect as much lore as possible into one place. Many of the clans have their own versions of history. By comparing the similarities and the differences, we learn more thanany one clan could know on their own.” She paused, and a shadow crossed her face. “Much of it has already been lost because so much of it is shared orally.”

“None of the clans bother to write down their own histories?”

“No,” I said. “Not until I granted permission to Dr. Wise.”

Emma studied the ground. “It reminds me of the blank slate of adoption. When my parents adopted me, the process was as straightforward as it could have been. Two strangers took in a baby they’d never seen before. My birthmother chose my parents from a waiting list, and essentially, I became theirs as soon as the contract had been signed. I might have been two weeks old at the time, but my parents had been my parents for as long as I had lived.” She took a deep breath. “I have no histories of my own either.”

I stood, placed my hands on the desk and leaned toward the doctor. One question had remained in my brain since the first time I had watched Emma change into animal versions of herself.

“Do you know of any time where a shifter has been able to take different forms that wasn’t the emergent multimorph?” I realized I was hunting for any possibility that Emma wasn’t the chosen one with big important shit to do, shit that didn’t include doing me.

Dr. Wise drummed her fingers on her pant leg and then pushed her glasses higher on the bridge of her nose. She clearly chose her words carefully. “There’s nothing in our possession which declares degrees of multi-shifting.Any occurrence of multimorph becamethemultimorph and emerged at the same time as a great threat. Somehow, these two are tied together, like two sides of the same energy must be balanced.”

“Then in your opinion…”

She pursed her lips, muttered to herself, and then tipped her head back and forth. “I would say…” Her voice trailed away. “Why, yes, based on your account and the information we currently have, I would say that Emma Carter is the emergent multimorph. She is meant to combat a great evil.”

“Likely Acheron since he’s the only great sorcerer around right now,” I said.

“And the disappearing shifters must be tied to it somehow,” Olivia added.

“Disappearing shifters?” Emma asked. “Is that a special skill or…”

I unlocked the drawer to my right and rummaged through it, searching for the answer to Emma’s question. “Ah. Here.” I withdrew a crinkled sheet of parchment with names listed on it. “This is the list of shifters who have disappeared from our communities. They’re organized by shifter type.”

She took the sheet from me and scanned the contents. “That’s a lot of different types.”

“All clans in Louisiana are represented there. We’ve reached out to shifter clans in other states and are currently compiling a list of those as well.” I paused. “It’s beginning to look like a nationwide problem. Maybe even a worldwide problem.”

Emma placed the sheet of paper on the desk. “None of these are reported to the authorities?”

Olivia shook her head. “If we reported them, we’d risk exposing ourselves to the human world, and that’s not something we’re prepared to do. We do have our own investigators.”

Emma turned to Dr. Wise. “Do you have anything I can take home to read up on my condition?”

Dr. Wise blinked rapidly. “You do not have a disease.”

Emma’s shoulders drooped as though she’d suddenly taken on the weight of the world. “Maybe not, but it feels like a life sentence, and I’d like to read up on it.”

“I’ll compile some items and get them to you.”

“Thanks,” she murmured.

The reality of Emma’s position struck me for the first time. I had pushed her to embrace her place in our history with open arms, pushed her into training immediately, and pushed her into an overflow of information. Less than forty-eight hours ago, she’d been just a human with a successful business. I had to admit she’d adjusted remarkably well for a young woman with most of her life still ahead of her. Mark down another point in favor of Emma’s emergence as the multimorph.

“We should get you the tour of the grounds I promised you,” I said. “We haven’t done that yet.”

“Another time.” A sigh leaked from Emma, sounding like a deflating tired. She stood. “Need me for anything else?” she asked. “I’m probably going to grab some food before I head back to Willow Creek.”

“No, go ahead.”

Head back to Willow Creek? She’s still going on about that?