Predator

There were many reactions I was prepared for. Fear was one. Humans fear what they cannot understand and what is unexpected. This was most certainly both. Or maybe pure shock. Loss of coherent thought as her brain struggled to cope with the overload of new information. Anger definitely. Betrayal and the desire for revenge were some of the most basic emotions I'd seen in other humans in such situations (the thing they call tele is quite interesting).

But Jackie's head collapsed forward, her shoulders shaking. At first, I thought she was crying—something I'd anticipated—until I heard her voice. Those weren't the sounds of tears.

Suddenly, she stood up, suddenly considerably more graceful in her movements, somehow…like us.

She threw her head back and tilted it to one side, surveying us with a smug expression. There was a strange glint in her green eyes—something almost predatory.

"So," she said silkily, placing her hands on her hips. "It looks like Martin had reason to worry about you. I hadn't given that man enough credit."

My fellows dispersed around me, returning to their assigned roles. I felt the compulsion to follow, but I stayed. "Who are you?" I asked, wary of this persona. I had only met Spot, but she was more silly than anything. This one… seemed dangerous.

She smiled, a cold smile showing all her teeth. "I'm Jackie," she said in a mockingly pitiful voice, pouting her lip.

"No, you're not," I said, feeling the hair stand up on my hands.

"You're wrong." She drops the smile, choosing instead to fix me with an all-too-focused stare. "I am the girl who was born seventeen years ago. The 'Jackie' you know is a shell, a façade, a lie. And she doesn't even know it."

"What are you…?"

"You can't fool me," she purred, walking up to the glass and raising an eyebrow. "Behind that obedient little face, I know."

I swallowed. Why were such human emotions surfacing in my mind? I thought I'd shed that skin—that identity—when I returned to my true self. So, why…?

"Ooh, look how big your pupils got," she cooed, as if over a baby. "You're so scared of me, aren't you?"

"Who… Who are you?" Why did I care? Why was I approaching the glass, mesmerized by the strange gleam in her eyes? My hand touched the door in front of me.

She mirrored me, but with a wicked smile on her face. She chuckled. "To answer your question, I'm known as Raphaelle, although you could say that I'm the… true Jacqueline."

"'True'?"

"Mm hm." Pulling away from the glass, she tilted her head, striking an innocent pose with her hands clasped behind her back, her feet together. "Ask her parents about her childhood sometime. I guarantee you that it's a good story. Although… they don't know as much as I do."

I wasn't sure how to answer. The compulsion to return to my work was becoming stronger, but I resisted. "Will you tell me?"

She was sitting on the floor now, looking at me with faux innocence. "Now, why would I do that? By the way, what's the ransom on this little girl? Money?"

"Uh… No… Influence, I think," I answered without thinking. My neck suddenly twitched, like a needle had pricked it. I yelped and clapped a hand over my tail.

Raphaelle tilted her head. "Bee sting?" she asked.

"I… I think I should get back to work now," I said uneasily.

"Have fun," she said blithely, waving.

"Yes… I will…" I walked away, still rubbing my neck.

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A/N: Look who finally got the muse back! Raphaelle is a fun character. Also, thanks to rara saryn for letting me know that my twist was a little too obvious. The second draft will be better and a more mysterious. c: Thanks!