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But Ashwood’s transformation didn’t last long, and before he knew it, Ashwood was back to himself, and Bellamy thought perhaps he’d been hallucinating. He was terrified and enthralled all at once, but his body and mind couldn’t handle what was happening before him, and his stomach revolted. He doubled over, barely keeping himself from retching in the dirt. That was when the wolf with the gray fur turned fully in his direction.
Bellamy would never forget those black eyes, those fangs. It was him—the creature who’d killed his mother.
He felt blinding rage, his hands curling into fists, only to be outdone by gut-wrenching fear that if he didn’t escape, he might be next. His feet began moving of their own accord, began to run as he retreated from the alleyway. He was horrified and frightened and sick with sorrow.
As he turned the corner onto the cobblestone street, he nearly collided with a gentleman who scowled in his direction, but Bellamy just kept running, somehow making it back to the warehouse, where Gladstone stood at the entrance, collecting their earnings.
“You said you would protect me from them!” Bellamy yelled at him.
“From who, lad?” Gladstone asked in an annoyed tone, grabbing his arm.
“The wolves.” He pointed an accusing finger, feeling emboldened and enraged and heartsick. “You said that when you found me. After my mother was murdered by one.”
“Calm down, lad. I have protected you. You weren’t bothered by anyone, were you?” His eyes swung wildly toward the street.
“Ashwood has deceived you, deceived the both of us,” he said, fury and despair warring in his chest. “I saw them shift—and one of them is called Kipling. And he is the one who…who…”
“Kipling?” Gladstone repeated, a strange look crossing his face.
Bellamy didn’t wait for more, overwhelmed by too much pent-up energy. He pulled from his grasp and ran, and Gladstone let him, caught off guard and clearly stunned by what Bellamy had told him, but likely not really caring where he went.
Bellamy ran and ran, away from everything, the horror and the deceit and the boy he loved. He thought surely he wouldn’t survive the night—his skin was too tight, his heart felt too brittle—and he didn’t care if he did.
He cried himself to sleep inside the flour mill in Lunar’s Reach until his tears had dried up and there was nothing left to give.
Chapter 1
Present Day
Lunar’s Reach, Etria
1881
Bellamy shifted his shoulder to get more comfortable, his whole body aching as if ravished by disease if the feel of flames licking at his skin were any indication. And now that reality was settling back in, his memory of the last few days?…weeks?…slowly returning, it would seem that was exactly what was happening to him.
Violet fever had been spreading through Lunar’s Reach, and he’d caught the sickness along with others at Moon Flower. But none of the potions Madam Langley had tried helped him get better, and while he was glad for Francis and Percy’s recoveries, he feared for his own mortality for the first time. He’d always been fairly healthy as a child, as was his mother, and even when dysentery had spread through Destiny’s Fall years ago, they had somehow escaped its clutches. So perhaps he was now paying his dues—but hadn’t he paid enough?
As it was, he’d lost the two people in his life that’d mattered most.
The effort of considering what might happen exhausted him—even something as little as opening and shutting his eyelids was burdensome. He might not have known how much time he had left in this world, but his body felt so hot, so onerous, he thought perhaps slipping away into the night might not be such a troubling idea after all.
He didn’t know what awaited him in the afterlife, or if there even was such a thing, but if it was his mother, he’d gladly cross over, such was his longing to see her again. She’d been his entire world, and when she passed away, and so violently, he’d felt shattered. And then he’d been devastated a second time, betrayed by the one he loved, irreparably. Remembering that…his time coming to an end appealed to him even more.
He drifted into sleep again, but a strange noise in the room made him hyperalert, his pulse picking up instantaneously for reasons he didn’t understand. He blinked open his eyes and realized he wasn’t in the sleeping quarters at Moon Flower anymore. No wonder the mattress and sheets felt different, scratchy even. He stiffened, which only made his muscles throb more.
From the looks of it, he was in a plain bedroom, with a wardrobe, a chair, and a sideboard table. Even the room his mother had rented for them had had more character. At least there’d been subtle damask patterns on the walls and a vase of his mother’s favorite flowers—jasmine. He could smell the sweet scent now if he concentrated hard enough. Perhaps he was hallucinating? Or had been moved to a new makeshift infirmary in Lunar’s Reach? Was he even still in Lunar’s Reach?
