copy cat || paul lahote

while bella was at the cullens, nora found herself standing in the doorway of her sister's room, hesitating for only a moment before stepping inside. the room smelled faintly of old books and lavender, but beneath that was something distinctly cullen—cool, sterile, almost unnatural. she ignored the unease settling in her chest and moved toward bella's desk, where stacks of paper sat neatly arranged, interspersed with dog-eared books and scribbled notes in her sister's messy handwriting.

she rifled through them, fingers brushing over various articles, handwritten annotations, and printed documents. bella had been obsessively researching for months now—vampire lore, quileute legends, anything that might help her understand the supernatural world she so desperately wanted to be a part of. but nora wasn't here for that. she needed answers for herself.

flipping through the pages, she came across a section on witches. the descriptions varied wildly, from ancient enchantresses to modern interpretations of magic wielders. some were born with their abilities, others had to learn. some could manipulate the elements, others could see the future. none of it felt right. nora had never cast a spell in her life, nor had she ever felt an unnatural connection to nature. she had no bubbling cauldron, no whispered incantations—just a creeping, dreadful sensation that her body wasn't entirely her own anymore.

pushing those pages aside, she kept searching, landing on another section about shapeshifters. this one intrigued her more. unlike the wolves, some creatures in mythology were said to change shape based on their environment. lions, crocodiles, even great birds—each shifting to match the dangers and landscapes surrounding them. they weren't bound to one form, nor were they necessarily tied to a pack, yet they all had the common ground to neutralise vampires.

her heart pounded as she read further, but frustration quickly crept in. this wasn't it. if her body was adapting to something, what was it? every time she had shown strength, or speed, or the strange ability to hear thoughts, it had come out of nowhere—without warning, without intent. no transformations. no clear signs. just inconsistencies she couldn't explain.

she exhaled sharply, flipping to another page, one that described those who possessed supernatural gifts without undergoing a physical transformation. there were mentions of people who could mimic abilities from those around them—absorbing them temporarily, shifting between them like a reflection in water. but even that didn't give her the certainty she needed. did that mean she was just borrowing powers? that they weren't even hers?

she dropped the papers back onto the desk, pressing the heels of her hands into her eyes. nothing in these pages could give her the clarity she was looking for. whatever was happening to her, it wasn't something bella had printed out and highlighted. it was something else entirely.

and she was running out of ways to ignore it.

nora sat hunched over one of the rickety wooden desks in the library, the dim glow of the ancient computer screen reflecting in her tired eyes. the machine whirred loudly, struggling to load the next webpage as she impatiently clicked at the slow-moving cursor. she had searched every combination of words she could think of—mimic abilities, supernatural mimics, legend of mimics—but results were sparse, buried beneath fantasy novel summaries and obscure mythological references.

the books weren't much better. the selection in the small-town library was limited, most of the texts covering mainstream folklore—vampires, werewolves, witches—but mimics? hardly anything. she flipped through an old leather-bound tome on supernatural entities, scanning the index, fingers trailing down the yellowed pages.

from what little she could gather, mimics weren't widely documented like other creatures. their existence was often debated, many scholars dismissing them as myths within myths. they were said to latch onto those they spent the most time around, unconsciously absorbing abilities from powerful beings in their vicinity. some accounts claimed mimics had no abilities of their own, only borrowing from others, while others suggested that the power they absorbed could become permanent if exposed long enough. but what unsettled her the most was the mention of their rarity—how their genetics could skip multiple generations, sometimes never reviving at all.