Chapter 4
Jewel paced, wishing she hadn’t needed to abort her earlier attempt at grocery shopping. She had to feed both herself and the beast within. She needed food, but worse, she needed iron. Red meat, preferably a T-bone steak, cooked rare. Her mouth watered at the thought.
Inside her, the caged wolf snarled.
They were both ravenous. Empty stomach clenched in knots, she snatched up her car keys. She had no choice but to make the attempt again.
“Behave,” she chastised herself, praying the wolf would remain contained.
Outside, the humid air caressed her skin. She walked to her car, clenching her teeth to keep them from chattering. Not from cold, but because the effort to control the change was becoming more and more difficult.
She didn’t know how much longer she could continue without making another attempt. She didn’t know if the next attempt would be her last.
One problem at a time. For now, she needed to focus on food. On survival.
This time, she chose a different market. This one was larger, newer, more anonymous. Finding a slot near the door, she parked. Taking a deep breath, she exited her vehicle and walked into the brightly lit store, grabbing a shiny metal cart.
So far, so good.
She stormed up one aisle and down the next. Grabbing items off the shelves and tossing them in her cart as quickly as she could, she made it through the entire store without incident. The checkout process went smoothly, though Jewel knew better than to relax. When she let her guard down too much, the wolf would seek an opening, a way out.
Declining the teenager’s offer to help load the bags into her car, Jewel hit the parking lot at a jog then unloaded the cart into her trunk. She hurried through that process, too. The sooner she got home, the better off they’d all be.
One thing about this old heap, she thought, the trunk could fit a ton of stuff. Or one dead body, she thought ruefully, slamming the trunk and thinking again of Leo.
She even returned the shopping cart to the cart collection area before she left. Confidence soaring, she did a mental victory dance as she climbed into her car.
Driving back to the rental house, she began to finally relax. She had her food, there’d been no episode of changing, and after she got everything unloaded and put up, she’d cook a big steak dinner.
Coasting up to the first stop sign, she applied her brakes.
There were none.
The pedal went all the way to the floor.
A huge eighteen-wheeler had almost reached the intersection. And this wasn’t a four-way stop.
Lips drawn back in a grimace, she fought for her life. Jerking the steering wheel to the right, she attempted to avoid the intersection. The rear end fishtailed. The car was too heavy. Despite her attempt to turn it, sheer forward momentum kept her continuing toward the intersection.
The semi driver lay on his horn. Loaded, he brought about eighty thousand pounds bearing down on her car. His tires squealed as he tried to brake.
Damn it! Manually shifting from drive into second, she attempted to slow the Buick. The engine screamed and the car jerked.
Not enough. Not enough.
The huge grill of the Peterbilt loomed.
Impact.
Rear passenger side. The car caved in. Her seat belt held, though her chin hit the steering wheel.
Slow motion. She tasted blood. Her own.
So this is what it’s like to die.
She saw it all, her world tilting like some distorted carnival mirror. Her last seconds were full of images and sounds—shattering glass, the scream of the air brakes as the truck driver tried to stop. Metal on metal, her car crushing like an empty tin can under a giant foot.
Jewel screamed again and again. The sound became a howl.
