Page 83 of Hunted

12

Ellie

THE STORM CAME ON SUDDENLY. Lightning branched across the night sky in jagged white streaks, electrifying the darkness. A loud boom of thunder crashed seconds later, rattling the windows above my lab station.

The sample on the microscope tray blurred in and out of focus, swimming before my eyes no matter how many times I adjusted the dial. Giving up, I straightened and rubbed my temples. I’d chosen one of my favorite outfits for today, knowing I needed the good mental energy. My sage green retro dress flared to a swirly skirt that ended at mid-thigh. I’d paired it with a chunky oatmeal cardigan and combat boots I’d stolen from Hayden. But today none of my usual self-care techniques for getting myself in a better headspace were working. Between the concussion I was still recovering from and the lack of sleep, it was like I was trapped in a mental fog.

“Are you feeling okay?” Jori asked cautiously. “Should I text River?”

I rubbed my forehead. Just the way she phrased it, like I was a ticking time bomb that might go off, literally like I might black out and go wolf for the first time in the crowded lab if something spiked my temper, made me want to scream. And yes, I was totally aware that was how first shifts typically happened for Bitten wolves and that my whole team had held an emergency Ellie containment scenario briefing to make sure everyone was on the same page in case I went fanged and furry at the full moon (which inconveniently happened to be tonight.)

Because, nice.

River had denied the meeting ever happened, the bastard. According to Rowan, if I shifted, the plan was to throw Impossible Burgers at the crazy rampaging werewolf while the rest of the lab rushed to safety and Quinn or Phoenix jabbed me in the butt with a tranquilizer. Jori had a fresh sack of burgers delivered every few hours. I had to admit, even if I didn’t like there being an entire plan they’d drilled for which involved pelting my scared, newly turned wolf with French fries until it fell into a food coma, it was thoughtful that said plan included vegetarian-friendly options. Despite glaring at my protection detail, I’d broken down and eaten two burgers at lunch, which had caused the few people still brave enough to show up to the lab to suddenly have other places to be.

Jori, River, Hayden, my aunts… everyone was blowing up my texts wanting updates on whether or not I felt like I was growing fangs. I wasn’t sure on that front, but hangry chocolate cravings plus post-concussion symptoms were something I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy. I was snapping at everyone left and right.

“I’m not feeling so hot,” I admitted. “I took some painkillers earlier, but the headache is back.”

“Maybe you should go home early tonight.”

“I need to finish up one more thing. With everyone else gone, we’re behind.” I gestured to the empty lab.

After the attack the week before, the vast majority of my lab mates had freaked out and were refusing to return until the university could establish proper safety protocols. Which we all knew they couldn’t. So now I was here late at night, working alone, trying to finish up entering data Meera had asked me to finalize for people who hadn’t come back in, research into an infusion therapy that would clean deposits from the myelin sheath in ALDD affected patients.

“I’m going to take a break for a few minutes,” I told Jori. “This won’t take long to finish.”

Jori hesitated. “I’ll grab you some ice and something chocolate from the vending machine.”

She nodded to Quinn, who came towards us. Technically after the attack last week, they were both supposed to stay with me at all times, but I also knew on the off chance I did shift for the first time, it was better that it happened in a contained area like the bathroom or the lab, rather than the open hall or the lounge.

The lights in the bathroom flickered ominously overhead as I splashed cold water on my face. The floor had been freshly mopped. My nose and eyes stung at the strong industrial smell of lemon cleaner. I reached for a paper towel from the dispenser. Rain drummed on the windowpanes, the storm spiking my anxiety, dredging up every nightmare I’d had for the past six months. Pulling the thermometer I’d brought from home from my cardigan pocket, I pressed the button to turn it on and stuck it under my tongue.

While it read my temperature, I gently loosened the medical tape securing the gauze and non-stick pads to the wound on my arm. The long, jagged cuts from where Matteo Rossi’s wolf had gouged me had begun to knit closed after the second day, but the scars were still dark, angry red slashes across my pale, freckled skin. If I were beginning to turn, the lycan virus would have closed the wounds by now. I’d once seen a burn from the espresso machine disappear completely from Hayden’s hand in ten minutes. Werewolf healing magic was scary like that.

The thermometer beeped. I took it out of my mouth. The display blurred, and I had to take off my glasses to squint at the screen.

99.8 degrees.

Elevated, but not a fever. And temperatures typically rose later in the day. Not infected. Guess Quinn needed to get started eating that afternoon’s order of burgers.

Pulling out my phone, I texted Hayden.

Ellie: So who gets me in the divorce?

Hayden: Cage fight first.

Ellie: You promised me no cage fights. Both. Of. You.

Hayden: Kidding. Still discussing the three terrors of the fire swamp.

Ellie: Should I be offended that I rank somewhere between Princess Buttercup and a ROUS?

Hayden: Didn’t I get you their Funko pops after one of your Bunniculas chewed up your fandom stuff?

Ellie: And they’re so cute! On an unrelated note, if you and River got something decadent and chocolate while hashing out this war council, will you ask him to get one to go for me? I ate all the Ben and Jerry’s we had on hand last night.

Seconds ticked by as I waited for the little dots to appear to indicate my sister was typing. I leaned closer to the mirror, studying my eyes for the tenth time that day. Was the green washed out? Maybe it was just the fluorescent lighting, but I could have sworn my irises had developed a grayish tint. Almost hazel.