Too many questions. I’d been thinking about these things, along with what Chaz had said, for hours. I was no closer to figuring out what was going to happen to me than I’d been when I started out on my hunt at the beginning of the month. Now that I was on the verge of knowing, despite that the hours had been crawling by like days until only minutes ago, all I wanted was more time.
I was back to pacing, occasionally kicking aside empty candy bar wrappers, my eyes closed. Hours ago, I had memorized the number of steps I could take, one end of the thing to the other. Five paces to one side. Turn around. Five more paces. Turn. Rinse. Repeat. All the while rubbing my hands up and down my arms to ward off the sensation of the hairs on my body rising like the place was full of static electricity.
The nosebleed had trickled off some time back, but the fever had worsened, and my nose and sinuses remained stuffed. I’d thought ahead and packed a handkerchief and a box of tissues, but they were long since used up. As if thinking about it summoned the blood again, more wet warmth seeped over my lips and chin. Damn it. I ran a hand under my nose and glanced at it, frowning at the dark color of the liquid on my knuckle. Black, not red.
A sudden, shooting pain pierced my temples, and I fell to a knee, clutching my head. The dribble of blood became a flood, and I coughed and gagged as some of it went down my throat. The lower half of my face felt covered, turning tacky and hot to the touch. There was so much that it was dripping onto my shirt faster than I could wipe it away. Violent shivers wracked me.
My eyes started burning and watering. When I touched the corner of my eye, it took a second for me to focus, but I choked out a curse when I saw that fluid was black, too.
I’d never seen any werewolves bleed when they shifted. Or exhibit symptoms like this. Was it because this was my first time shifting? The pain was tolerable in comparison to what I’d had to deal with after the fight with Chaz, but it was still hard to breathe, and whatever that black stuff was scared me.
I stayed that way for what felt like forever, but nothing else happened. Other than a few excruciating coughs, my eyes stinging like a mother, and a lot more blood, my body stayed the same.
By the time I blinked the black crud out of my eyes, the clock read 6:40 PM. My hands were still white and pale, the nails blunt and showing signs of having been bitten to the quick during some of my more nervous moments.
I hadn’t changed.
Holy shit.
I sat back on my butt, stunned, too shocked to process it right away.
Nothing had happened. No fur, no claws, no nothing.
Holy. Shit.
Laughter bubbled up from somewhere in my chest. I laughed until the tears came—real tears, not more of that black goop—and sat there, head in my hands, coming to grips with the sudden release of all that tension and terror that had held me in a choke hold until now.
Once the hysterical laughter eased off, and it didn’t hurt quite so much to breathe anymore, I took better stock of how I was doing. Though I still felt hot, and I’m sure I looked like some zombie horror-movie extra with all of that gunk on my face and shirt, it was clear nothing else was going to happen.
Well. That was a relief.
I scrubbed my eyes with my palms and then used my shirt to wipe off the worst of the crud on my face. I couldn’t stay down here like this—covered in filth and blood—and I wanted out of the cage, now. With a huge sigh and a groan, I levered to my feet, gripping one of the bars to steady myself.
An uncomfortable pins-and-needles sensation worked its way from my fingertips all the way up to my elbow.
That was something I didn’t want to think about too closely.
Collecting my things and trash, I tucked them into the bag I’d brought with me and then flipped the latches on the locks, walking out of the cage, not looking back. Funny, I felt more clear-headed than I had in a long while—and my sweet tooth, finally assuaged, had earned me one hell of a stomachache. Painful, but it was far more bearable than becoming a furry beast hunting for fresh meat and howling at the moon.
This development brought a lot of my actions this month into a much darker light than I’d considered at the time I was carrying them out. I’d never taken into account that Dillon might not have illegally turned me. Nor had I ever considered that Chaz and the other Sunstrikers might not have been the ones infecting unwilling, uncontracted people and committing murder to hush up any witnesses. I’d assumed that the Sunstrikers had been the ones who were killing all of those people mentioned in Jim Pradiz’s article. Maybe—just maybe—Chaz had told the truth, that the Ravenwoods were the ones who were doing all of the killing.
I’d believed the worst of everyone since this mess had started. At this point, even if the Ravenwoods really were behind it all, I wasn’t sure it mattered.
As hard as it was to consider, I owed Chaz an apology. There really was no reason I should have flown off the handle like I had. Something dark and vicious had opened inside me along with the fear of being turned Other. That I would even think about killing Vic and the other Sunstrikers without having solid proof of their involvement was so unlike me, I couldn’t figure it out. Where the hell had all of that hunger for violence come from?
Dillon, now. I wasn’t sorry for what I had done to him. But with the worry of what I was becoming now moot, reflection on my actions was showing a much uglier picture than I was prepared to deal with.
I took the stairs slowly, my head aching and my heart heavy with the realization that I’d made some incredibly stupid mistakes while under the pressure of thinking I was no longer human. That didn’t put me above the law, or make me the one responsible for seeking revenge for Jim Pradiz or the other victims. I’d made that assumption even though I knew there was a chance I wasn’t going to be changing. Why had I done something so reckless and stupid?
Luckily, I didn’t see anyone on my way up the stairs. When I stepped into the hallway on Jack’s floor, some guys passed me. They didn’t say anything right away, but I heard a quiet what the fuck as I dug in my bag for the keys. Hopefully, they’d think I was dressing up for an early Halloween party or something.
I was glad they weren’t sticking around to see if I needed help.
The apartment was empty. I wasn’t expecting anyone to be here, but it still worried me that Jack had chosen to go with them instead of sitting the fight out.
I wondered if my hunting gear would still be waiting for me where I’d left it, tucked in a drawer in the room where Chaz had helped me dress. I’d put it out of sight of the other hunters, but someone could still have taken it while I was downstairs to use during the fight against the Ravenwoods.
The only piece of gear I’d taken with me was the belt. It had as good as told me that I could use it to end my own life if I turned. Pausing with my hand on the knob, I had to fight down a touch of sickness at the thought.
I felt palpable relief on seeing the neatly folded armor in the drawer next to my last vial of Amber Kiss. Another worry put to rest. Nobody had found my things.
I set down my bag, pulling it open so I could touch the belt. Now that night had fallen, it was alive. Or, well, as alive as an inanimate object could be. I ran a finger along the edge of the leather. It was exuding impatience to be used and no small measure of surprise at my touch.
“Don’t worry, Isaac. Soon.”
I had to get ready first. With a grim smile, I rose, taking the armor and perfume with me.
It didn’t take me long to handle the basics. I washed my face, hands, and chest—seriously, I was straight out of a Halloween nightmare—and tossed my clothes in the trash. They were beyond saving.