Because of my nature, I generate more deep, negative, raw emotions than the average person. I have to bring those emotions to the surface and purge them, or they turn into hunger and violence.
It’s been weeks since I had a thorough emotional cleanse. I’m barely holding it together. But I think I’ve got one more night in me. I’ll go back to the Toast & Tide in the morning. I’ll introduce myself to Grouchy Diner Man and try to reverse the terrible impression I made. Maybe his version of Lou’s potions won’t be terrible.
A shiver of unrest rolls through my body at the thought of acclimating to a variant, and I decide this day has beeneventful enough. I need to head home and get to sleep early if I can. Lack of sleep makes my control over myself even more tenuous.
I run back along the beach, then walk up the lane toward the house. It’s a typical Cape Code style, with a small porch, a steep roof, and three dormer windows.
Light glows from between the curtains in the front room. Tess and Ashala are probably curled up in there on the two big sofas amid throw pillows, hot tea in hand, with both the TV and a fire going. They’ll have eaten dinner by now. After I got back today and settled the horses into their new quarters, I told the girls I was going into town, so they probably assumed I’d eat at the diner.
At the thought of food, hunger hits me like a snarling wolf gnawing into my guts.
I really should have eaten something earlier. Now I’m hungry, sad,andangry. A bad combination.
Get food and go to bed. Don’t engage with Tess and Ashala or fuss at them for not keeping you informed about Lou.
When I open the front door, peals of laughter assault my ears.
They’re havingfun. Lou is dead, I didn’t get my drink, I’m about to lose my shit, and yet my roommates are enjoying themselves.
I let the door slam theatrically behind me as I stride into the living room. “You didn’t tell me that Loudied.”
Tess jumps and looks up, her blue eyes bright and her freckled face still flushed with laughter. “I didn’t? Oh crap. I guess it slipped my mind.”
“It slipped your mind?”
“Yeah… sorry.”
I whirl on Ashala. “Andyou. You didn’t tell me either.”
“Because I thoughtshehad.” Ashala makes a placating gesture, likeI’m-staying-so-far-out-of-this.
I try to rein in my anger, to use the techniques Dr. Ellis has taught me, to identify the real source of my feelings and point them in the right direction, away from people I care about. Tess and Ashala are on my payroll, but they’re also my best friends. My “frienployees,” as I call them sometimes.
From what I can tell, they’ve done an excellent job taking care of the place while I was gone for almost a month. They don’t deserve to take the brunt of my grief or my rage.
“It’s fine, it’s fine, I just—” I run my hands through my hair, suddenly conscious that its texture has changed. It’s rougher, longer. My teeth feel larger in my mouth. Pointier, too.
Shit, it’s happening.
“I’m going for a walk,” I declare.
“Walk?” exclaims Tess. “You just got back, and it’s going to be dark soon…”
Ashala hushes her and mutters, “You know how she is sometimes. She’ll be fine.”
Neither of them know what I am. Tess is totally human, but she has cousins who are witches, so she’s initiated into the reality of Crescent Cove. Ashala can generate sparks with her fingers, though she can’t control flame.
I’ve always worried about how they’ll react if they ever find out I’m one of the most terrifying creatures on the supernatural roster.
I run back down the steps, but instead of fleeing toward the water, I turn and race inland, past the barns and toward the woods. There’s a strip of trees between the front pasture and the back pasture, ostensibly a windbreak, but really it’s an emergency path for me so I can get out of the open if a transformation is imminent.
The front pasture is mostly native grasses, while the back one has better grass for grazing. None of the horses are out in the meadows at this time of night, but Edwina doesn’t like being confined to a stall, so she’s in the fenced yard right in front of the main stable. She whinnies, plunges, and tosses her head as I run past at a speed worthy of an Olympic sprinter.
Somehow horses always know that I’m one of them. It’s why even the wildest rescues tend to warm up to me faster than they do with any other human.
I’m gasping as I reach the windbreak. I tear off my T-shirt and bra, then stumble and hop out of my shorts and panties. I stuff them into the familiar hollow of a tree trunk. My face is stretching, teeth like knives extending from my gums. My arms and legs lengthen, jerking and contorting as joints switch places and bones lock into new positions.
There’s always a momentary blur of my brain when the change completes, like the black screen when a TV program switches to ads.
