CHAPTER TWO

 

Mick Pierce made his way down the driveway to a tall, stately house that stood at the edge of the woods. He could see that a window was open upstairs, and in the window, he could see the barest outline of a girl in a white nightgown.

He licked his lips, looking up at her.

She didn’t see him down here. She was looking up at the sky. At the moon.

Mick sighed. He hadn’t been back to see her in quite some time, so perhaps he’d neglected her. He remembered the first time that he saw her. She’d been a tiny child of only ten, with her dark hair and solemn eyes, and he’d known there was something special about her even then. But she hadn’t meant anything to him then. No, she’d only been a means to an end. He’d been young then too, and he hadn’t realized what he was taking on.

Now he knew. There wasn’t a day that went by that he didn’t think of the girl in the window.

Carrie.

She was beautiful now. She was so grown up—a woman child with raven hair. Her eyes were still so solemn, but she no longer had the body of a little girl.

He hadn’t meant to notice, but he couldn’t help but see it, especially as he looked up at her in the window. At the carnival, she’d been wrapped up in coats and scarves and gloves. Now, there was only filmy fabric, falling around her curves.

He sucked in breath sharply.

Then he forced himself to look away. He wouldn’t think of her that way. It was obscene to do so. That was not the way their relationship would work. But there would be a relationship between them, of this he was certain. In fact, there was already a bit of a relationship between them, albeit a one-sided one. She didn’t really remember him, didn’t really know him. But he knew her, and he cared about her. They’d been apart for so long.

Even though miles had separated them, he had always sensed her presence.

Every full moon, he’d soothed and subdued her across the distance, keeping her quiet and human.

But tonight…

Tonight, that would all change.

Everything would change tonight.

Mick was sure that things were now going to be exactly as they were meant to be.

* * *

Carrie had barely been asleep for an hour, when pain woke her.

It was agonizing, and it was deep inside her body, deep in her bones. There was a growing ache, pounding under her skin. She tossed and turned against it. And then she woke.

She groaned. This was bad. Why were her bones hurting? It felt almost the way that she remembered growing pains from a few years ago. That deep ache inside her. But the growing pains had been dull, pedestrian. This pain screamed through her body. It was sharp, but it was prolonged.

She stumbled out of bed, wincing as she put her feet on the floor. Everything hurt from her toes to her skull.

She made her way into her bathroom and got some painkillers out of the cabinet. She swallowed more than usual, and then she hobbled back to bed.

As she moved through the room, she caught sight of the moon. It had risen up above the tree line, and somehow it looked even brighter and fatter. Her lips parted, and her breath caught in her throat.

She could only stare at the moon.

Her body convulsed.

It hurt.

She whimpered.

What was going on?

She got back in bed, but everything hurt so badly that it was impossible to be comfortable.

She turned to look out the window again. She felt like she had to see the moon. Now she could see that it was snowing outside. April snow. There were big white flakes falling diagonally across the night sky. Across the moon. The snow wasn’t sticking to the ground. It was melting when it touched down. But it was snowing outside, all right.

Her body convulsed again. She felt as if she was turning inside out, her organs struggling to ooze through the pores of her skin, blood and muscle squirming to touch the air.

She let out a small cry as she curled up in a ball, gritting her teeth against the pain.

The door, she thought. There’s someone at the door.

That was an odd thought to be having while she was in so much pain. She tried to push it away. After all, there could be no room in her mind for anything other than the misery she was feeling. She wanted nothing other than to make herself small, fold in on herself until the pain went away. Surely, the painkillers would kick in soon, wouldn’t they?

Fresh agony tore through her. She moaned.

There’s someone at the door, she thought. I need to go to the door.

And even through her pain, she found herself struggling to her feet and limping across the bedroom. She was barefoot, and the wood floor was cold against her toes. But she didn’t mind it. She had become very hot all of the sudden, she realized. She was sweating.

She was only wearing a white nightgown—really it was a big t-shirt. But it was specifically made for sleeping, so it came all the way down to her calves. It hung off one of her shoulders, leaving it bare.

She flung open the door to the bedroom and staggered into the hallway.

Pain seized her.

Her head snapped back, and her whole body went tense.

Something snapped.

My bones, she thought. All my bones are breaking.

And it felt like that was happening. It felt like her body was shattering, like it was reforming, like there was something inside her—something else, something not her—scrabbling at the back of her neck, pressing on the back of her brain.

It wanted out.

Carrie screamed.

Her voice echoed through the house, and the door at the end of the hallway opened.

“Carrie?”

It was her mother.

Carrie clutched at the wall. She felt like she could hardly keep herself upright.

Someone’s at the door. I need to go to the door.

“Mom?” Carrie’s voice was tiny, like she was still a little girl. “Mom, something’s happening to me…”

More pain. Now everything was stretching and twisting. Her own bones were changing shape. The thing inside her was coming out.

“Oh, no.” Carrie’s mother put her hands to her lips, shaking her head. “No, no, they promised me they wouldn’t let you shift. They promised me you’d never have to go through it.”

“Shift?” Carrie grunted. The pain was so intense now that she felt like her entire being was composed of nothing but agony. “Who promised you?”

“Baby, we were going to tell you,” said her mother. “We were going to tell you, but it never seemed like the right time.”

“Tell me what?” Carrie gasped.

“I guess I always thought it might happen. That’s why we kept you close, baby. We didn’t want you to hurt anyone. It’s all been for your own good.”

There’s someone at the door! And the voice in her head was not quite her own.

Carrie launched herself at the steps, and she tumbled down them, half walking, half rolling, half on her hands and knees. It seemed right to be close to the ground. It hurt to stand.

Her mother at the top of the steps. “Carrie, what are you doing? You can’t go out. We’ve got to call your alpha. That’s the only way we can stop this.”

Carrie ignored her. She was talking nonsense, and Carrie didn’t understand her.

Carrie was confused. Everything was confusing. There was pain, and there was the door, and there was the moon.

The moon!

Oh, the moon.

She needed to open the door, to let in the light, to bask in it.

“Carrie!” called her mother from the top of the steps.

Oh, forget her mother. Her mother was so strict. She never let Carrie do anything. She treated Carrie like a five-year-old. And Carrie was a woman.

A moon woman. A wolf woman. A sister of wolves.

Inside her, there was a twitching convulsion.

It didn’t quite hurt. It felt…

She threw open the door.

It was him. The man from the Ferris Wheel. He wasn’t wearing his sunglasses, and his eyes were just as piercing and green as she remembered.

She gasped. “You.”

He smiled. “Hello, little fael.” He reached across the threshold of the house, and he ran his hand over her head, smoothing her hair, almost petting her.

She groaned. Pain went through her again.

Her skin was stretching. She shrieked.

The world seemed to tip sideways. The man was still standing in the door, his green eyes burning like bright, unearthly lanterns.

She couldn’t keep her balance.

She pitched forward.

She put out her hands to stop herself, and her fingers collided with the man’s chest.

Her hands twisted, changing shape in front of her eyes.

She screamed again.

She saw the claws rip through the ends of her fingers—sharp claws, animal claws, wolf claws.

I’m a werewolf, she thought.

And then everything went black and empty, like the starless night sky.