There’s no life left in her brown eyes. Her shirt has been ripped open, buttons popped and scattered across the grass, leaving her breasts exposed. Moonlight gives her pale skin a ghostly glow. Her stomach has been shredded by claws.
I glance down at my shaking hands.
Not just any claws. Mine.
My hands are covered in thick, dark fur.
I’ve become the beast.
I carve a symbol carefully between her breasts. One, two, three interlocking triangles. And then I reach inside her open abdomen, her viscera still steaming in the cold night. I grab hold of her entrails like a slick rope andpull—
I shoot awake, panting heavily.
I check my hands—no claws, no fur—and sag against my pillow.
What the fuck was that?
And why is my jawkillingme? I wince as I roll onto my back. Mymouth hasn’t hurt like this since I got my wisdom teeth pulled. I run my tongue along my teeth, wincing at how sore my gums are. The pain is coming from my canines.
My tooth wiggles. Comes loose.
I spit the tooth into my hand, staring down at it in disbelief. It’s slimy with saliva and blood turning pinkish in my palm.
An awful coppery taste fills my mouth.
Something else isinthere.
I run for the bathroom and flip the lights. I spit out another tooth. Another. My molars. Incisors. All of them are coming loose, spilling out of my mouth. Blood streams down my chin, covers my palm, splatters over the tiles.
Terror grips me.
My teeth scatter across the bathroom floor.
Frantic, I turn to the mirror.
More teeth have already grown to take their place—no.
Fangs.
Peeling back my upper lip, I lean in closer and examine them. Each one is impossibly long and sharp. These belong on an animal, not a girl. The bathroom walls close in on me, the room shrinking and shrinking until there’s nowhere to go.
What the hell is happening to me? First my claws, and nowthis. I stare at my fangs in the mirror. My hand shakes as I reach up and test one with a fingertip. It cuts me like a razor, splitting the pad of my finger apart. Blood wells—but doesn’t stop.
Emilía’s blood.
A scream tears out of me. I look hysterical. My face is stretched into something unrecognizable, ugly with anger. But now that I’ve started, I can’t stop screaming, not even as it scrapes my throat raw. Emilía’s screaming face replaces my reflection. I smash the mirror to pieces until it’s as broken as I feel.
I shoot awake, breathing hard, skin slick with sweat.
My teeth. I feel around my mouth, and I’m relieved all my teeth are still there. Soft and smooth andhuman. I race for the bathroom. The mirror remains intact. No bloody teeth litter the floor. It was just a nightmare. Thank God.
Dragging my hands down my face, I head back into my bedroom, where I’m safe, and quickly close the door. Okay, so that was a nightmare, but what about Emilía? My knees give out and I drop onto my bed, holding my head in my hands. Was Amund right about me?
Did I… actually kill Emilía?
Last night comes back to me in moments. Flashes. Running to warn Emilía. Stumbling across her body instead. Staring at her ripped open stomach. Noticing something smeared on her chest. A symbol. Andblood. So much blood.
So much like my dream.
