Perth pulls his phone from a pocket and glances at the screen, his forehead freckles sliding upward as his eyebrows rise at whatever message he’s gotten. Ruger continues to stare at me, his unwavering regard imploring me to change my position, to look at things the way he does. But I can’t. If he’d been in that room with her, he’d know I’m right.
“Ellery needs us to bring food to the inn; he’s getting Noah settled there and she needs to eat,” Perth pointedly announces, moving for the door.
When I don’t follow, he pauses at the threshold and glares over at me.
“All of us,” Perth orders.
I glower at his stubborn compliance. Such a fucking Boy Scout. “You’re setting yourself up. That’s your choice, but I’m not a masochist,” I warn him.
How do they not see it? Ellery’s putting her up in a hotel? She doesn’t want anything to do with us. If they show up all moon-eyed and hopeful, it’s just going to freak her out even more.
Ruger looks like I just stole his favorite spatula. For such an intimidating bastard, he’s perfected the kicked puppy look, those green eyes big and blinking beseechingly as he says, “Don’t do this, Gan. Don’t give up before we’ve—”
“You don’t get it,” I snap at him, fuming. My chest heaves with angry, shallow breaths, and I study first Ruger and then Perth, beyond frustrated that they aren’t hearing me, trusting me.
What’s worse than watching a train speeding closer, knowing it’s about to crush you? Watching it speed toward your family and knowing there’s nothing you can do to stop it from crushing them.
This girl is going to annihilate them. Decimate us.
They’re going to go to her with open arms and just stand there until she mows down every hope for the future they’ve ever had.
“Fuck this.” I throw up my hands one second before shifting back into a wolf and darting from the room. I should have gone for a longer run.
Ruger and Perth don’t want to hear the truth. They can’t see past their own blind optimism and eagerness. But I’m not going to sit around and watch the train wreck. I can’t.
I exit the house the same way I came in, using the panel, ignoring my shifter brothers as they call after me. I run until their voices are drowned in distance, until the air grows thinner and crisper and my thoughts are lost to the exertion of my wolf. I run until I can’t run anymore, but there’s no outrunning what’s coming for us. No matter how much I wish there was.
11
NOAH
I don’t know how it’s possible for time to pass faster than the speed of light while also moving slower than a sloth taking a shit. Somehow, I experience both simultaneously. One moment I’m a woman, a vet tech on her way to a new start and new opportunities. Next, I’m a shifter, watching an unnaturally massive wolf slink out of the sheriff’s office while three other strangers, other eeries, talk among themselves about how all this is possible.
I stare down at the cup of rainbow juice that Imogen made. I don’t know that I trust her, trust any of them, but she’s right. I won’t let bullheadedness be my downfall. I survived last night. If I’m wrong about what’s in this cup or their intentions, I’ll survive that too, and then I’ll make them pay.
I reel back at that thought. Disney villain isn’t my default setting, but all of this shit has me thinking they will rue the day thoughts. I see people joke about it all the time, but maybe this really is my villain origin story.
I shake my head at myself and, without justifying it any more than I already have, I bring the cup to my lips and drain the contents. I can’t help feeling like I just swallowed either my damnation or my salvation and—whichever one it is—it tastes like sour apple.
I look into the cup when I’m done, the dregs mixing into an ugly brown that matches how I feel. I really hope I don’t see you’ve been poisoned float up through the last remaining drops like a Magic 8 Ball message of doom.
On the upside, I don’t keel over immediately. And then the chill in my veins slowly warms. The volatile rage bubbling within me cools. Finally, the pain throbbing through me disappears altogether. My vision sharpens instead of blurs, and I feel stronger, more steady. They weren’t lying, the spell didn’t hurt me.
That doesn’t mean any of them are off the hook though.
I set the cup on the desk and look up to find Ellery, his father, and Imogen steadily watching me. Ellery offers me a warm smile, but it dims when I answer back with a glare.
“You let me walk into this office and tell you all about this terrifying thing that happened to me last night, and you knew the whole time I was a shifter and it was real?” I snarl at the sheriff.
He drops his head a little and regret fills the room, as fragrant as a bouquet of roses, but the contrition floating in his eyes isn’t enough to calm the anger I feel surging.
I pull in a deep breath, worried that if I get too mad, it will trigger the black veins and the…the…shift—fuck, that’s weird to even think.
“You’re right. I should have tried to explain everything better when you first walked through the door. I was shocked. You shouldn’t have even been awake, let alone walking into my office. And then you said you’d been attacked, and I needed to know what you were talking about. It’s no excuse though. I should have handled things better. I’m sorry.”
I’m taken aback by his immediate apology and how sincere it sounds. But I’m not ready to hear it or forgive and forget. I need to revel in a little rage because what in the actual fuck just happened?
“How are you feeling?” Imogen asks, and I turn my anger on her.
“I’d be feeling better if you hadn’t magically misted me into a world of hurt,” I grumble while aiming a fiery glare at her.
She grimaces, though her regret is far less potent than Ellery’s. “I thought you needed help shifting. That spell has been foolproof in the past. We’re all just trying to help.”
I scoff. Yeah. Trying to help me right off a cliff maybe.
Undeterred by my indignation, Imogen turns and crisply starts to pack up her supplies. Somehow, all of the mortars and pestles she used are clean in an instant, ready to be stacked away in neat rows. I stare at her hands rather than make eye contact with anyone else, since I’m trying to keep my anger at a reasonable four hundred degrees Fahrenheit right now instead of melt-the-building molten lava, which my intuition is rooting for.
As she zips up her bag, she states, “You need to make sure you eat and stay hydrated. The transition is hard on shifter bodies. And the dissipation spell you just drank for your block will require energy too. You need to rest, eat, and drink as much as you can.”
I throw my head back, breathing hard as I stare at the ceiling and wonder how the hell I got here. A nap and food are the least of my problems right now.
“I know you’re mad, and you have every right to be. But no one expected you to be a naif. It took us all by surprise,” Morgan Arcan defends.
“And what the hell is a naif?” I demand, rounding on him. “You all keep using that word but haven’t bothered to explain what it means.”
Morgan Arcan nods and offers me a small smile. “Someone who doesn’t know about their origins, who doesn’t know about eerie life, but needs to.”