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I ran to the woods, shifted, and then hunted rabbits. But over time, I slowly realised I felt that cold sensation again, except this time it was stronger, filling the woods with waves of energy that rippled against my fur. My prey disappeared. The place grew far too quiet and still. My curiosity overcame my fear. My wolf stalked the source in the darkness, wary of getting too close.
The chill made it harder to focus, but finally I came acrossthegirl, huddled next to a kill I had left for later. I stood still in shock, trying to make sense of what I was seeing.
She wore oversized fleece pyjamas, and her hands ran across the rabbit’s fur as she hummed an odd tune that set my teeth on edge. When she looked up, moonlight reflected a chilling blue shade from her eyes. I was certain they’d been a pale grey before. I thought she saw me, expected her to panic, but she rose to her feet, calmly turned, and then strolled away, her fingertips wet with blood.
Keeping to the shadows, I followed her into the local housing estate until she stopped at a house on Hazelwood Avenue. Her scent was everywhere, marking the place as her home. From behind the front gate, I watched her climb the drainpipe and get in through her window. She stood there, facing outward for a few minutes, her eyes still ice-blue, but I had a feeling she wasn’t truly seeing a thing.
The new girl obviously had a secret. Maybe it was none of my business—unless it affected the pack. But did I even want to know what was weirder than a werewolf?
Chapter 5
Margo
I awokean hour before my alarm went off. Groggy, I stared at the dark stains on my pillow for a few minutes before realisation hit me. I sat up straight and switched on the lamp. Patchy rust-coloured stains had dotted one side of my pillow. I looked at my hands. Blood covered my fingers, had dried beneath my nails.
No.
I flew out of bed and into the bathroom then scrubbed my hands with cold water, using a nailbrush to get the last stubborn pieces of blood away.What did I do?
I looked at the mirror and saw blood on my face, too. I squeezed my eyes shut and forced myself to relax. A nosebleed. That’s all it was. It had to be.
But what if it wasn’t? I ignored the pesky voice in my head and cleaned up my face before stripping my bed. It was just blood. Just a nosebleed. Nothing else had happened. The fact the ends of my pyjamas were damp and mucky meant nothing.
By the time I was ready to leave for school, I had pushed everything to the back of my mind with well-constructed excuses to bind them. Nothing was wrong.
In the kitchen, Dad was waiting for me, nursing a cup of coffee. He looked tired again. I didn’t blame him. It was hard to sleep in our new house where it was never truly dark or quiet, unlike back home when we’d lived far from streetlights, neighbours, or proper roads.
“I can pick you up after school again today,” he said brightly, but he couldn’t hide the strain in his voice.
I’d heard my parents fighting about money only last night. “You’ll find work soon,” I said. “I mean, have you seen the crappy gardens around here? And the school. They could do with some landscaping over there. Maybe the hospital.”
“Are you ready to go?” he said tersely.
I realised too late that he’d probably already looked for work in those places. “I suppose so. Unless you need company here.”
His smile was genuine then. “I think I’ll survive. Besides, you’ve a mid-term break soon, so I’ll have the pleasure of your company for an entire week.”
I forced my own smile. “I can’t wait.”
“That bad?”
“Nope.” I was as good at deflecting as my father.
He was quiet in the car on the way. All my fault again. He had lots of work back home. But we weren’t back home anymore. Even Mam had taken a job she was over-qualified for—she expected Dad to do the same, to give up everything he was passionate about for something he would never love. I made up my mind to look for a part-time job, no matter how menial, to at least try to contribute.
I desperately wanted to talk to him about waking up the way I had, but how could I give him something else to worry about when he was already so stressed out? I loved both of my parents, but Dad was always the one I’d gone to whenever I was worried or scared. Now I worried my fears would hurt him. That I had broken my parents’ marriage. Those thoughts shoved everything else aside.
In the school car park, I hesitated to get out of the car.
Dad looked at me. “Not heading in? You’re not being bullied, are you?”
“It’s not that.” I studied his face, noting new worry lines. “Dad, are we going to be okay?”
Concern transformed his stance. “Of course we are, hon.”
I bit my lip and looked away. “I heard you arguing last night. You never used to fight like that.”
“That was nothing,” he said firmly. “The walls are just thinner here.” He took my hand and squeezed it. “As long as the three of us are together, we’ll get through anything.”
