Page 17

S hanley patrolled the rows of cars parked every which way in the dirt.

After circling a few times, she backed her Honda up to another’s bumper, leaving less than an inch for them to reverse.

A bush impeded my own exit.

Worried I’d scratch her car, I opened the door a crack and shimmied through the sliver of space.

I didn’t think she noticed—she was already out, her gaze glued to the stars.

I smoothed the wrinkles from my skirt and joined her.

There were no streetlamps out here, but the hoots and hollers gave a clear path to where we should go.

Her bright eyes reflected the Milky Way’s glow.

“Ready?”

I nodded, though my stomach dipped in equal parts fear and anticipation as we trotted down the bluff.

I tried to match Shanley’s eager strides; her excitement provided a shield against my anxiety—but that hit me the second I fell behind.

What if she forgot about me once we hit the party and left me to fend for myself?

Large group settings weren’t my strong suit.

All the overlapping threads of conversation tangled in my mind and made it hard for my thoughts to reach my lips.

In similar situations, Javi had been there for me to grab on to when it all got to be a bit too much.

I couldn’t exactly latch on to my new coworker’s arm for the night.

That’d be weird. I sucked in a breath.

Three hours to midnight and with no cell service, my fate was written in the stars above.

I’d be alone, I’d be stuck, there was no way I’d make curfew?—

My worn soles slipped on a loose pile of rocks and skidded out beneath me.

The whiplash snapped me out of my spiral, almost doing the same to my neck as my limbs twisted awkwardly to keep me upright.

I found my footing just as Shanley glanced over her shoulder and slowed so I could catch up.

Her face, alight with excitement as she waited for me, only made me feel worse.

Alright, River, enough .

I agreed to do this.

I was here. I would make the best of it.

Returning the grin, I scurried to her side, and we trekked through the brush and gritty outcrops.

Shadows from the sheltered cove below rose past the limestone cliffs.

We neared the bottom as the thickest part of the overgrowth tapered out, and found the party gathered around a raging bonfire in the middle of the sand.

Fire spinners burned circles into the night that remained on the inside of my eyelids long after I walked away.

Couples fled into the natural grottoes, tending to their own budding flames.

Some sprawled on the circumference and drew tribal patterns across each other’s chests.

An artist beckoned me over.

“Can I paint you?” She was lathered in a palette of reddish clay, the dried texture staining her skin and the tips of her dreads.

My eyes traced the moon cycles over her abdomen.

A yes ghosted my lips, but as I turned to my host, I realized she wasn’t next to me.

“No thanks,” I quickly said.

I trudged around the red Solo cups littering the shore, careful not to let Shanley escape into the sea of bobbing heads—until one of those heads jumped into my path, crouched like a panther, and I lost sight of her anyways.

He broke out in a capricious roar, russet drawings branding his exposed pecs: a motif of animals and crescents.

Perspiration beaded the back of my neck, as the swollen muscles in front of me trembled and flexed…

just like they had after taking me upstairs at the last party we were at together.

I closed my eyes to escape the visual, but the ale on his breath smelled too much like his vodka aftertaste had.

And the salt in the air felt too much like the tears that had streamed down my face, during and after.

When I opened my eyes, the memory faded, but he was unfortunately still standing there.

“We welcome the moon!” Chet Jennings declared.

“Please tell me you’re not a regular here.” He’d already killed the vibe; I didn’t need him taking out my new friendship, too.

“Maybe not, but can’t I appreciate the full moon for what it is?” He stepped closer.

“A big, influential mass with a gravitational pull that even you can’t seem to resist.”

Gross, now he was penning metaphors about his dick.

Without a single nod of appreciation to the “lunar” bulge in his pants, I moved to go around his arched silhouette.

Brute strength pinned me in place, and his dilated stare pierced me with a feral hunger that morphed his boxy face into a grimace.

I wriggled against his grip, but he twisted my arm when I fought.

“What are you doing?” Anger plated my voice.

“Let go.”

He sniffed my collarbone.

“You look delicious tonight, River.”

His disgusting attempt at flattery snuffed out the confidence I’d built up, and I suddenly felt way too bare in my makeshift crop top.

“Don’t touch me.” I used my free hand to push him off, but it had the opposite effect, and he wrenched me closer.

Flush against his rock-hard body, I couldn’t look away as he mocked me with a broad grin.

Saliva collected at the corners of his mouth.

Frothy, foamy. Gross.

“One school away, it’s as far as we’ve always been. And lucky for you, it’s as far as we’ll ever be.” He waved towards the mountains separating us from the valley.

“I’ll be at a private university over the hill starting in August. Just one. School. Away.”

“What are you even talking about? You make zero sense.” I tugged to break out of his grasp, but he held my wrists and curved them towards his chest.

“C’mon, let’s kiss and make up.”

“You are sick.” I’d rip those lips off with my own damn teeth before submitting to him.

Would have the first time if the shots hadn’t left me nearly immobile, too far gone to say yes or no or slow down or stop.

I might’ve even unbuttoned my pants myself—but deep down I knew I hadn’t wanted it.

By the time that realization surpassed a slurry rush of emotions, I’d already felt the lubricated condom.

The spacious clearing suddenly felt too tight, like the rock walls were caving in.

The sky hung too low, like night was just a painted ceiling and the stars would combust on top of me.

I had to get out. There were too many nooks and crannies here, too many sea caves he could pull me into.

Where the hell did my plus-one go?

As Shanley’s name left my lips, the grip ripped from my arm and a blurry mass bowled into the party.

Sending people scattering as it neared, it knocked already swaying bystanders to their asses like bowling pins.

The wind rustled my lungs.

It had all happened so fast. But at least my arm was free, and my captor was huffing on the ground.

Shanley pointed to the whimpering heap in the sand.

“Don’t come near her again!”

Chet hissed, swatting at those na?ve enough to try and help him to his feet.

I crossed my arms, unable to hide the tremble in my voice.

“A little late.”

“I’m so sorry.” Shanley tapped my elbow.

“I thought you were right behind me.”

“I was, until I got caught in a drunken mousetrap—” I broke off to duck from a sailing champagne cork.

“Clearly we have different meanings for bonfire .” My fingers found their way to my mouth.

I chewed nervously. “Out of all the beaches on this sprawling coastline, why does Chet Jennings have to be at this one?!”

I shuddered at his name, and I hated myself for it—that even his name, his name , three simple syllables, had this much power over me.

“Do you know who that is?”

Shanley shook her head, a few strands of her blonde hair, woven with ashy brown undertones, shaking loose to frame her temples.

“Absolutely no idea, but he sounds like a prick. I’m sorry.” It came off genuine enough for me to relax my arms to my sides.

“Honestly, I don’t even recognize half the people here. It’s usually our small pack of twenty or so every month, but in the summer, it can get out of control.”

Twenty?

Not that night. Maybe add another zero.

I nudged a discarded beer can, fighting the urge to pick it up.

“You do this every month?”

“Yeah. And don’t worry, we clean up.” Shanley must have noticed the scrutiny, given her wink that followed.

“Anyway, before we were so rudely interrupted, I found some of my friends. I swear they won’t bite. And we’ll make sure that idiot…”

“Chet,” I offered.

“We’ll make sure he doesn’t, either.”

The thought brought a shiver.

I didn’t think she realized how literally she’d spoken, what he’d do to me if given the chance.

But I wanted to believe her, especially because I still felt his glare stabbing me in the back.

With a sigh my shoulders dropped, effectively giving in to her reassurance.

She smiled and tucked me into her side, giving me a one-armed squeeze before steering us a friendlier route.

The group split for Shanley like a royal procession, but they paid their respects in beer, not roses, to their queen—bottles and red cups being thrust in our path, ready for her to clink.

For someone who claimed she was clueless on the headcount, she reciprocated every greeting.

I sauntered beside her, offering a nod when anyone said hello, awestruck by what was unfolding.

The high and low fives, the pats on the back, the mock howls she received from literally every person.

Rippled indents spread beneath our heels the farther we treaded down shore, my Vans sinking into the ground that had been kissed by the waves a short while ago.

A motley crew of six perched on a cluster of barnacled stones and hopped down as we made our approach.

The fresh ocean air vacuumed the veil of smoke and revealed the strawberry moon.

It rose above the waterline, igniting the salt crystals into infinite rows of string lights, reflecting across the surface in shiny strips and glowing shards.

Strands of bluish white glistened from the horizon to the bridge of Shanley’s nose.

The cool moonlight illuminated a smile that shone brighter than the constellations—it flushed away the haunted look she wore from the day before, practically transforming her into a whole new person.

It was hard not to catch the mood.

Met with howls instead of fist bumps, Shanley returned the primitive welcome, and they sang together as a pack.

I pursed my lips in a show of solidarity but refrained from joining in.

This party grew more interesting by the minute.

I wasn’t sure if that fascinated me or scared the shit out of me.

A little bit of both, I decided, as a chain of people with merlot-stained teeth awaited me with eager grins.

Unsure of what the appropriate response would be, I let out a belated “Woo!” and, odd ceremony completed, the exchange of names commenced.

Maverick, with a paisley kerchief tied around his dusky forehead, spoke to me between puffs of his cigarette.

He explained that earlier in the day he lost a bet to Des, a busty chick with a green flat mohawk that trailed to her pale exposed, shoulder blades, which led to a tattoo of Smurfette on his butt.

He offered to show me?—

“Maybe next time,” I said.

“Hey, kitten.” Mau flashed a sly grin next to a shirtless and very sunburned guy named Kenny rocking bear trap nipple rings.

I continued down the line.

Despite their air of ruggedness, Shanley kept her promise: they didn’t bark or bite.

With my elbows propped on the seaweed draped over the rocks, I felt like I could hang!

There was enough distance between our small group and the larger gathering, where the chatter and laughter of Shanley’s close friends ebbed and surged with the waves, but its crescendo didn’t rattle me into silence—that was just me being shy.

I leaned in closer to catch Des’s side of the story, but another conversation snagged my attention.

A somber trio built like marines and gruff like unshaven frontiersmen had marched towards the group during intros, pace set by the thuds of the bongo drums. Two stayed tight-lipped, scanning the beach, while Kai, Shanley called him—the one in front, the one in charge—rattled off a monotonous download of the night, as the flares of the bonfire reflected off his ochre biceps.

Normal shenanigans, I determined of the bits and pieces that made it to my ears.

Until Kai’s tone changed, and instead of reporting overenthusiastic party crashers, he was getting riled up about bastards and bites and Chet .

Unease flooded me.

If this news bothered Shanley as much as it did me, she made sure it didn’t breach her expression.

“What do you mean he bit a guy named Chet?” she muttered to Kai, her face still beaming.

It wasn’t a question.

It was an order, a command.

Kai masked his emotions, his hooded eyes revealing nothing of concern.

“The wrestling turned to brawling. Antonio nipped him right on the shoulder.”

Shanley’s smile didn’t waver as she continued through her teeth, “It’s the full moon, Kai. Anyone bitten tonight will turn.”

My stomach dropped.

Full moon, bitten, turn?

I didn’t like where this was going…

“Antonio’s drunk.” He rolled his muscular neck, puffing his chest. “And that idiot was asking for it.”

“And Antonio couldn’t fucking control himself?” There it was.

The slip of concern I’d been waiting for.

I really hoped this wasn’t a problem.

“This is a problem.” Damnit.

“Take care of it, General. Before shit really goes south.”

Kai’s response was drowned out by the noise in the background—now garbled.

Grating. Screechy. I pressed down on the little flap of cartilage on my ear, effectively covering the canal, the slight pressure warding off the throb building in my head.

If I hadn’t sensed the abrupt spike of tension in our group, I’d assume the Voices were coming.

Given the tight-lipped faces of everyone around me, they heard it, too.

Des rose from her rocky perch.

Watchful, waiting. Mau stilled, her angled lob swaying over her shoulders.

Nostrils flared, Kenny inhaled in slow, methodical huffs.

Mav put his stog out between his fingers.

A blood-curdling shriek severed any remaining discussion, and everyone’s focus whipped to the center of the gathering.

The bongo players stopped their music.

Even the bonfire seemed to sputter out.

A rush of panic flowed through my veins as a raucous howl responded—different from the playful yips of Shanley and her friends.

Its guttural resonance gave me goosebumps.

Cries broke out. Not of joy.

These were cries for help.

For a tense moment, time seemed to freeze.

And then everyone around me scattered, disappearing with a wave of kicked-up sand into the chaos.

Uh…should I be following?

Dozens of people, scared and shoeless, darted towards the bluffs.

Puddles of them collected at the bottom, unable to scale the steeper parts.

The madness nipped the heels of those who fled, herding them away from the path and into the rocky cliffs.

Eyes wide as the moon, I turned to Shanley, the only person who had stayed with.

“River, I need you to listen to me.” Her palms, swollen to the size of baseball gloves, cupped my shoulders.

I flinched at her distorted mitts.

“Are you okay?”

“Get away from here. Now. Go back the way we came.” She jerked her head towards the trailhead we’d entered from on the other side of the clearing.

“Quickly! My keys are in the glovebox. Drive yourself back to town.”

Judging by the hysteria that took over her face, so genuine it spooked me, this seemed like advice I’d be stupid not to follow.

But with no license or any real practice behind the wheel—that was twice in one day it had failed me—the best I could do was hide in the back seat and wait it out.

What were we running from, exactly?

I would absolutely die if she said teratorn.

Maybe it was just the cops?

Most here looked under twenty-one.

Then I remembered what Kai said.

“What’s going on?” A chill shook my spine and laced my words.

“Don’t tell me: Chet did something dumb.”

“Please.” Shanley’s voice was strained.

“Just leave!” With that, she spun on her heels and sprinted towards the commotion, leaving me alone.

Water tickled my soles, seeping into the cloth of my Vans.

The tide was coming in, stinging my feet with its persistent, cold laps.

But I didn’t budge—the shock turned me to ice and froze me in place.

What had caused everyone to go full apocalypse?

A low, tormented wail cut the night.

I peered into the shadows, distorted since the bonfire had flamed out.

Most had escaped, but there amongst the stragglers I tracked a lone figure who chased instead of ran.

A figure with a square jaw and sideswept hair the color of butter and too many abs for a six-pack.

Chet.

His form danced with the night, contorting in a way that didn’t seem humanly possible.

I grimaced as muscles split and he writhed against bones that seemed to fracture and reform—unable to look away as he bellowed and raged while his jaw twisted, nose elongated, like a snout was forming out of his face.

The chill that had danced along my body was now uncontrollable.

He wasn’t Chet anymore.

He was a wolf…A werewolf who drew his nose to the sky, taking in the moon with what seemed like pious admiration, sniffing with dramatic heaves.

Fur sprouted in patches but bloomed in the moonlight along his unnaturally tan skin, golden tufts growing behind his vertical ears and between the webs of his hands—now paws.

Chet had always been a wolf.

But now he dressed the part, too.

Faded celestial symbols stained his jacked, hairless chest, remnants of the reddish clay cementing the tips of his bushy mane.

Symbols he’d lain down to receive half-naked, taunting whoever got the torture of painting him, I’m sure.

The thick ocean haze quickly started closing in, its billowy tendrils cloaking the seafront and muffling the distant screams. If I didn’t leave, I’d be trapped here between the rising tide and the werewolf, who, by nothing short of a miracle, hadn’t noticed me yet.

I leapt into the mist. It broke apart in plumes, shielding the bluffs, throwing off my sense of direction.

I pressed my heels into the sand.

As long as my ankles weren’t sopping wet it meant I was headed towards dry land.

Using that knowledge to guide me, I broke into a jog, smack-dab into a column of shadow.

I ricocheted off it and tumbled to the ground.

It edged forward, the temperature dropping as it shaded my body.

Weird, shadows didn’t move like that…

It was Chet.

Still on two legs, his face disfigured into something more canine.

Sharper. He hovered over me and took a big whiff.

Oh my God, he was smelling me.

This couldn’t get any worse.

I’d gladly take a teratorn over this.

He scraped his back claws into the silt while his front claws cut the night with an audible whir.

I flinched as the trail of air brushed my face and he sneered, no longer flashing straight, blindingly white veneers but teeth sharp as daggers.

A heavy boom crashed behind me, the water rushing to where I was sitting and stinging my hands—the surf break was closing in.

It threatened to swoop me up and deliver me right into the enemy’s clutches.

His hot breath was so close it caressed my neck.

I needed a distraction, a way to get out from under him…

Armed with nothing but chipped turquoise nails and my own set of canines, sharp enough to tear the skin off an apple, not the skin off a throat, I dug my fingers into the sand.

I threw a fistful in his face.

He yelped and scratched his eyes, allowing me the seconds I needed to crab-walk out of his reach.

I clambered to my feet, and knowing how ridiculous it looked, I put my dukes up.

Shoulders hunched, I readied myself for his imminent attack.

He rose to full height, at least two feet taller than his human form, snarling, spitting, salivating at my fear.

But I didn’t escape a demon just to die by his hands.

I wouldn’t go down without a fight.

In a mirrored dance, we both tilted forward, but Chet didn’t strike.

Eating time instead of me, he toyed with his prey, licking his chops, feasting on our little death game.

The rules were obvious: If I ran, he’d run faster.

If I charged, he’d charge stronger.

If I screamed, he’d scream louder.

The odds were not in my favor.

A growl interrupted our choreography.

Too busy trying to psych each other out, neither of us had noticed the other being enter our circumference.

Snared in its shadow, I couldn’t tell where this new werewolf’s true outline ended and where the darkness began.

I stood my ground, for no other reason than I was rattled to my core.

Unlike Chet, this newcomer wasn’t adorned with red tinted swirls and whorls across its chest. But they did have something feminine, like two little replicas of the moon, tucked beneath the ends of their overgrown neck hair.

Breasts.

This werewolf had breasts.

They curved half-hidden beneath her silky mane, which flowed much fuller and longer with hints of bronze, brown, and gray.

While I remained frozen in fear, like petrified prey, the she-wolf’s presence clearly didn’t faze my sandy-haired aggressor.

He rolled his four sets of claws and made a snort—a sound of dismissal.

And then with a snarl, the werewolves became a swiping mass of claws and fur and teeth, nothing more than a spinning lump of fur, blurring into a single form.

I inched to sneak past, but their fight veered into my path, threatening to knock me down.

If I fell again, chances were I wouldn’t make it back up.

I retreated, the frigid water now up to my calves.

As the fighting began to detangle, I wondered what kind of death the winner would hand me.

The iron hate in Chet’s eyes promised he’d go slow with all that immortal time he’d likely been granted.

With the other werewolf it was harder to know, but I hoped it involved one swift killing blow.

And there was always the off chance the ocean would take me.

My knees shook against the force of the undertow pulling the sand out from under my feet.

With the losing werewolf pinned to the ground, the victor settled its icy gaze on me.

I couldn’t quite let myself feel relieved that Chet had been defeated as she ground her incisors deep into his yellow collar—after all, those jaws would be tearing into me next.

The precision of her bite released the tremor I’d been trying so hard to hold in, knowing that once I unleashed it, it’d spread to the rest of my body and open the floodgates to the terror I’d been able to keep on lock—until now.

All while those eyes, a piercing blue that I had seen before but at the moment couldn’t place, drove me towards the rising current.

Water almost knocked me over and submerged my thighs, just like the anxiety that threatened to drown me, too.

Call it déjà vu, or had I been here twelve hours ago?

Clawing at life’s final moments, searching for help in a pile of lost causes.

Summoning another lightning bolt was laughable at this point.

I’m pretty sure that had resulted from sheer luck, not some secret powers I had.

It also helped that I’d had a wingman, one who casually packed a quiver and probably—no, definitely—would know what to do with a couple of hounds from hell.

My bottom lip, which now stung and tasted of blood, bore the brunt of my panic.

I wiped my mouth on my sleeve.

The werewolf’s nostrils flared wide, purposeful.

Hungry at the scent of my blood.

I was a goner. Tears fell and mixed with the salt water, searing the skin around my eyes.

At first, I attempted to blink them away but then gave in to the burn and kept them shut.

I didn’t need to see what came next.

Cold pain lanced my fingers and toes.

It spread through my veins to the rest of my body: the onset of hypothermia.

I’d felt this before—and the memory came as frigid and fast as the rip current that’d carried me away from my mom when I was eight years old.

Much too quickly I’d succumbed to the open water, my muscles leaden like anchors.

And the cold…it wasn’t just the crisp ocean.

It was the air above me, suddenly harsh and stormy even though it’d been the definition of picturesque.

Familiar arms wrapped around me the second mine could no longer move.

My mom and I should’ve both made it out—she’d pulled me far past the siloed flow of the current—but something had held her back.

A deafening roar collided with the crashing break, forcing me into the present—the shapeshifters had grown impatient, their thunderous roars an omen of death.

It sounded like dozens more had joined them.

The one beautiful thing about this bitter end was that I didn’t need to imagine my sacred place, the ocean.

I was already there, wrapped in its nippy cloak, its undulating fury an extension of my own.

My numb hands dropped to my sides, extending out to meet the ocean’s spray, even though by now I couldn’t really feel it.

I couldn’t really feel anything.

Except anger.

Lots and lots of anger.

So much hot, fiery anger it could have thawed me.

I couldn’t get it out of my head: that I’d just waded there , dumbstruck, while the ocean flooded my mom’s throat and turned her cries to gargles.

Why? Why didn’t I do anything?

Then. Now. Ever.

When my eyes snapped open, I didn’t see werewolves.

Instead, a surge of water flew past me.

I tripped backwards, expecting to be submerged by the tide, but landed in squishy damp sand.

The mighty flow of the current muffled my gasp as the ocean parted around me without so much as a splash.

The threat before me tumbled into the twisting tide.

A wave, big as the beach itself, flooded the crescent clearing with the force and speed of a river overflowing, devouring everything in sight.

Except me.

Breathing hard, I eased to my feet and paced next to the towering element and looked up.

Translucent at the top, it deepened in color with each descending layer, ending in a rich midnight blue at the bottom.

It stretched high, but not as high as the cliffs.

Six feet, maybe, at my back and my sides.

Ahead, it sloped downwards, giving me a clear line of sight to the bluffs—like I was caught in the crest of the wave just before it would break and speed towards shore.

Shadowy figures waded through the surf.

I couldn’t tell if they were werewolf or human.

My hand quivered as I reached for the water’s surface.

It jolted back instead of flowing across my fingertips, like my touch was a magnet repelling it.

I did it again and it receded.

It hit me then: these fluid walls weren’t here to keep me in, they were here to keep them out.

The water shuddered, a small wake of it slipping forward—this would only hold for so long.

I needed to find a way out.

I made a run for it.

The Pacific Ocean parted at my strides, recoiling with each drive of my knees and swing of my arms, as if we were dancing, me leading, the ocean following.

With each salty inhale, it was beginning to feel a lot less like divine luck and more like it was me—like I had summoned the water, and the lightning.

Either way, I was getting the hell out of that cove, away from Chet and the beasts that wanted to kill me.

The water shook, struggling to retain its form as I leapt over tidepools and cut across the beach.

Whatever magic controlled it must have been pushed to its limits, the water’s glassy shell punctured by leaks that started out small but grew bigger the farther I traveled through it.

Behind me, the ocean covered my footprints and surged forward, as if attempting to lasso my feet.

I didn’t let it distract me, using every ounce of energy I had left to propel my legs forward until I reached the base of the cliffs.

The trail on this side of the cove appeared steeper, fissured by landslides, rugged from infrequent use.

Scaling it would require all of my extremities, not just my feet.

As I flexed my stiff fingers, the ocean shook off the final remnants of magic, releasing a small tsunami headed right towards me.

There was no time to absorb what was happening.

The burst of power rushed at my heels and I scrambled over the scree, latching on to craggy slabs and exposed roots as every muscle in my body worked to outrun the stampede of water.

Its rumble was omnipotent, like a prevailing wind and a heavy rainfall and a fire crackling all at once.

I felt it in my ears and my brain just as much as my bones.

I hoisted myself onto the top of the bluff and immediately doubled over, my breaths short and stabbing and not giving me nearly the amount of oxygen I needed.

Gripping my kneecaps, I lifted my chin as the swell lapped the edges of the high ground and withdrew just as fast as it had come.

It was over.

My right hand curled into a fist over my heart.

I peered at the ocean below, rolling and splashing like nothing was out of the ordinary.

All my emotions flooded me at once, and I wasn’t sure if I should cry or laugh or scream.

I’d escaped. I’d actually escaped.

A blood-curdling shriek suspended my short-lived relief.

Was my mind playing tricks, or had the monsters recovered?

After today, anything seemed possible.

There was no chance I would stick around to see.

Adrenaline spiked in my veins, and I sprinted through the gold-tipped grasses, scanning the flat field of brush and briars to try and recall which way I had come in.

Getting out of the cove had been my priority; I hadn’t thought of where I’d end up once I reached the bluffs.

Desperate to find an outlet to society, I fixated on the faint yellow light peeking out from the cypress grove ahead.

Hypnotized by the illusion of safety, I charged through the prickly branches and spilled out onto the two-lane highway, skidding to a halt at the frantic honking.

I didn’t know what I thought I’d find there, but as quickly as my hope rose, even more quickly it was slashed by the semi-truck barreling towards me, its headlights speckling my vision like a mosaic.

It screeched past—or that might have been the air leaving my lungs.

As the entirety of the day and my exhaustion hit me, I sank next to the defaced white line on the side of the road, the taillights fading with my adrenaline.

I tucked my knees beneath me and recounted my misfortunes to the constellations.

I’d stretched myself as far as I could.

Even resting against my thighs, my hands would not stop shaking.

Chances were slim that someone would rescue me.

This road was quiet.

I was about a mile from the makeshift parking lot.

And I was pretty sure everyone except the wolves had left.

Shanley didn’t seem like the type to leave me hanging, but she hadn’t signed up to be my human crutch, either.

And if monsters prowled these parts, well, that was even more reason for her to split.

But she’d given me a warning when she told me to get away from the bonfire, like she…

knew what was coming.

I remembered her panicked words, but I also remember thinking there was so much left unsaid in those blue— glacial blue—eyes…

Eyes that pierced me as she locked on to another’s throat.

Air rushed my lips in an audible gasp.

Shanley wasn’t just aware of the threat—Shanley was the threat.

Shanley was the darker blonde werewolf.

My stomach might have actually dropped out of my body.

A chill cinched my spine and radiated across my flesh.

The quirky mannerisms I mistook as a hangover, the wolfy innuendos, the weird obsession with the moon…

it all made sense now.

Well, kind of. I was still having trouble grasping the fact that these things were real.

And I still wondered if she’d meant to eat me.

No matter what her intentions were though, she did save me.

Unsure if I wanted to hate her or thank her, I pulled my cell phone out of my skirt’s tiny pocket, amazed it hadn’t fallen out.

Irritation grumbled in my throat.

Dead, of course.

Tempted to smash it on the pavement, I dropped it into my lap instead and reached for my mom’s necklace—another item I was shocked had made it through the night, still clasped around my neck.

The lapis zapped my fingers, scorching my collarbone as it thudded back onto my chest. Wincing as the pain dissolved, I couldn’t help it.

I laughed .

Nothing was funny about my predicament, but there I was, laughing hysterically.

It startled me so much I clasped a hand over my mouth to hold it in, but it leapt forth past my fingers.

Who harnesses lightning and the sea, kills a demon, challenges not one but two werewolves, and is ready to give up because they have to walk a couple miles in the dark?

People who aren’t born with Source in their blood .

Ryder’s voice echoed in my head.

“Source.” A concept with the power to mold me or break me, it left my lips in a cloud and dispersed in the moonlight.

You see things for what they are.

And most people in this world do not.

A crossroads lay before me, and not the literal one I’d stumbled onto.

I could hide from the truth and treat my afflictions like I always had: as an inconvenience.

Although supernatural creatures and episodes that made my skin feel like it was on fire were no longer just annoying disruptions.

The other, honestly more terrifying, option was accepting that I was different.

I was something else entirely.

I was?—

Nephilim. A word so loaded it caved in my shoulder blades and prickled the scars raised along the skin there like slashes.

I took a ragged breath, wanting to think it away before it spread to my lips.

Because if I spoke it out loud it all seemed too real: that I was part angel.

And no one was here to fight me on it.

No one was here to call me crazy.

No one was here to confirm or deny it.

Maybe that’s what I needed.

I shuffled on my scraped knees, untucking my legs.

I was so tired of running.

So, I rose from the ashes and walked, accepting my place on the other side of normal.

Already, I felt less alone.