Chapter Fifteen

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

She didn't explain what she was planning on doing.

She just grabbed what she needed, and followed Seth out into the now dark garden. Then when he turned at the sound of her footsteps on the front porch, and raised his eyebrows in anticipation, she dragged it out from behind her back.

And got the reaction she'd been expecting.

"You want to do this on a Hoover ?" he gasped, in a voice that sounded torn between excitement and incredulity. But she could see the excitement winning out, even before she started laying out her carefully considered reasoning.

"Well, you know, a broom is so thin."

"That is true."

"And I'm so clumsy."

"You're not that bad."

She gave him a look . "Oh come on, you know I am."

"I do, but I'm trying to pretend otherwise to be supportive."

"Okay, well, you can stop. You're being supportive enough, I promise."

"Thank god, because all I can see behind my eyes is you plummeting to the ground from so far up that it somehow tests the lim its of that lemon potion. I'm honestly about thirty seconds away from desperately begging you to ride me instead," he said, all in a rush. Then he saw her taken aback expression, and seemed to realize what that sounded like, and hurried to explain. "And you know, by ‘ride me' I mean because I'm large, and I have lots of things you could hold on to while you did it."

Though it hardly seemed to explain anything at all.

It just made her eyebrows climb higher. And his face get even redder.

"Not that you would want to hold on while you rode me," he tried again, then almost immediately and visibly cursed himself. And she could understand why, because, oh dear god, what was happening? What was going on? How was he saying something even worse than the original thing? Stop , she wanted to tell him. But he didn't, somehow he didn't . "That's not what I was trying to say. I just wanted you to use me in whatever way would work best for you."

And okay then she had to cut in.

He gave her no choice at all. "Seth, what the fuck are you doing ?"

"I don't know. It's just coming out of me."

"So put it back in again. Like, superfast."

She rolled her hands to illustrate. Which just seemed to make him more panicked.

"I'm trying, I'm trying. I swear to god I am. And some kind of god actually exists to me at this point, so you know that I must be telling the truth."

"I know that you're being extremely weird right now."

"Okay, but not so weird that you're going to stop being my friend all over again, right?" he said, despairingly. And then with even more despondency in his voice: "Because if I've blown it already over innuendos I definitely did not mean to say, I might lose my mind just a little bit."

"You haven't blown it, and you don't have to lose your mind. Just, you know. Calm down."

"I will. I totally will," he insisted. But he still looked flushed. He still looked jittery. As if the whole thing had unsettled him far more than it really should have. And when she went to hand him the rope to tie around her middle, he didn't seem to want to do it.

He just stared at it in his hands. Then stared at her waist. Then back at his hands again. And all in a way that made her want to shake him, and say, I am never going to get the wrong impression here. I barely even got the wrong impression over your hand almost on my butt while we accidentally watched a live sex show. That was all nothing, so why would I ever think anything more about this?

But of course she couldn't.

That would only draw attention to the weirdness.

So instead she laughed and nudged his arm and said, "Come on."

Then watched him visibly swallow, and reach toward her, in the slowest and most agonized way she could imagine. As if she had said she believed his sexual innuendoes, and now he was terrified of making the situation worse. Of making her moony-eyed, over his big hands on her body.

Instead of how she actually felt: like stone, like a rock, like a completely immovable mountain. She didn't care that he slipped the rope around her, so gently. Or that she felt his fingers brush her skin, where her sweater rode up at the back. And it didn't matter to her that every breath he took seemed all hot against the nape of her neck.

Not to mention shaky.

Man, it was really shaky.

He sounded like he'd recently run up a hill. He looked like he'd recently run up a hill. She could see perspiration gleaming on the curve of his throat, out of the corner of her eye. But still she didn't react. She didn't do anything but stand there, frozen, until he finally, finally pulled away.

And if she let out her own breath in one long almost-gasp when he did, well. That didn't mean anything. Nothing meant anything. It was fine, everything was fine. Nothing to see here, she thought, as she turned to face him.

Or at least, she tried to turn to face him.

But he suddenly appeared to be at a different angle.

A very low angle. Did you just step into a hole , she almost said.

Then she saw the startled look on his face. And the way he was scrambling for the trailing end of the rope. And realized what was going on, about a second before he gasped out, "Holy shit, it's happening."

Because it was. She looked down and saw that her feet were no longer touching the grass. She floated a foot above it—and she was still climbing, slowly but surely. Another ten seconds and she was going to be beyond his grasp.

Though there was nothing she could do about it.

She'd been so wrapped up in the idea of Seth holding her in place, and pulling her back down, that she hadn't really thought about how she would steer this thing. She had just wanted to try, and now she was going to actually end up so high that death somehow happened. Possibly by her getting beyond the point where oxygen existed.

"Seth," she yelled, as she did the only thing she could think of. She tried to point the handle of the Hoover down. Only somehow, she didn't quite get the angle right. The whole thing veered violently to the left. It sent her skimming six feet above the grass, fast enough that it made a bubble of giddy joy rise through her.

Though terror soon took over.

She seemed to be headed for the trees.

And Seth definitely did not have hold of the rope. She could hear him behind her, scrabbling for it. Trying to pounce and snag it, and completely missing. Yeah, like now is the time for you to lose that supernatural grace and skill and speed , she thought at him. But knew even as she did that it wasn't fair at all. He'd just spent the last hour going through emotional upheaval, inadvertent sexual innuendo, and trying to touch someone without giving them the wrong idea.

Of course he was suddenly clumsy.

She would have been clumsy too, if she weren't already the clumsiest person alive.

She tried to turn back and just somehow ended up climbing higher. And steeply too—to the point where she had to really hang on. She had to get an arm around the Hoover's handle and squeeze the bag tightly between her thighs.

But even so, she came close to sliding off.

She was only saved by the broad base that housed the brush, which acted as a kind of safety seat for her butt to land on. It allowed her a second to scrabble her way back up toward the handle, hand over hand. And once there she hooked her feet together, so nothing could jolt her free.

While the Hoover sent her higher and higher.

Seth now looked incredibly far away.

All she could make out was the white of his face, and his frantically waving hands. Before a wave of vertigo made her look away again. Focus on flying, she told herself, frantically. But that just made her think of the impossibility of what she was doing. The fact she was actually soaring through the air on an electric appliance, at a speed that turned her hair into a streamer.

Soon, she would be in the sky.

She'd be able to brush the tops of the trees with her hand.

She even thought she might dare to, once she was there. But just as she thought of something that strange and wonderful, just as she started to see things in a more positive light, something bad seemed to happen. She felt a jolt go all the way through her, violent enough that she almost lurched off the Hoover. And it took almost everything she had to haul herself back on. She heaved so hard her muscles screamed at her. Bones got bent into positions they didn't want to be in.

Then somewhere in the middle of all of this, she tried to look back and figure out what was going on.

And that was when the Hoover seemed to jackknife. It swung toward the nearest tree, in a way that spelled out exactly what had happened. The rope had caught on a branch. It had gotten snagged—and, oh that was bad, it was very bad. It made her brace, and press her face into the backs of her hands, and try to make her body as small as she could.

But she still felt every twig and leaf and bit of bark bashing into her.

Something jabbed her in the stomach. Suddenly there was a leaf in her mouth, bitter and wet and choking. And though she tried to grab hold of something, she couldn't, she just couldn't, it was all going too fast. There wasn't even time to breathe or think. She just had to close her eyes, and hope something kept her from plummeting.

Because the Hoover sure wasn't going to do it.

She lost it, somewhere amid the maelstrom. Heard it crashing through the tree below her, loud enough that it made Seth make a terrified sound. Then there was a crunch, and she felt something rough against her cheek, and suddenly everything was quiet. Everything was still.

She had come to rest on a kind of hammock of branches.

She was all right. She was all right.

Or as all right as anyone could be, while jammed in a tree about thirty feet above the ground. With absolutely no way to get down.

Yeah, you didn't think of that when you were getting all high on being almost impervious to harm , her brain sneered. And sure, it was being a jackass. But it was also completely correct. She couldn't even see the Hoover anymore—which meant it was most likely too far away to retrieve. It might have even hit the ground by that point.

Can you see it and possibly send it back up like an elevator , she wanted to yell at Seth.

But then Seth bellowed, "Cassie, do not move. I'm coming to get you."

And to her surprise, she found she didn't doubt him. She didn't even worry that he might do it badly and fall. She just peered through the leaves, fully expecting to see him grabbing branches and hauling himself up.

But somehow, he still did more than she had imagined.

He climbed the trunk .

And he used his claws to do it. As if he could summon them up at will—which, honestly, until that point, she'd had no idea was even possible. She'd thought he needed something to spike it, and yet here he was shredding bark to get to her. And not just with his hands either. His feet were bare, and in very much the same state.

It was like watching a jungle cat scale its way up to her.

Several times she almost moved to get a better look, before realizing what that would mean for her. You try, and you will test what plunging to the ground is going to do , her mind hissed. Then she forced herself to stay still and wait.

Not that she had to do so for long. Ten seconds later, there was Seth's face, peering at her from between the branches. And he wasn't furious or mocking. He just looked incredibly stressed.

"I seriously thought you were going to end up on the fucking moon," he said, between frantic breaths. "And that was not a fun thing to experience. I mean, sure, the potion will protect you. But how would I get you down from outside earth's atmosphere, huh? Answer me that."

But he didn't wait for her to try.

He just reached forward. He got a hand around her waist. And then he pulled her, carefully but firmly, into the circle of his arms. He cradled her, gently enough that it gave her weird goose bumps, everywhere he was touching her body. Between her shoulder blades, against her upper arm, just a little at the nape of her neck, where it still felt sensitive from that lick of his warm breath.

Breath that she could feel now, against her cheek. Too quick, too harsh, she thought. But before she could process that, he gruffed words in her ear. "Hold on," he said. Then he simply jumped. He whole ass jumped. No sliding down the tree. No climbing. Just straight down, so abrupt and so fast it felt like she almost ate her own stomach. She tried to scream and couldn't, because her lungs were in her face.

She honestly thought she might die.

But of course she didn't, because there was that hand on the back of her head again. The sense of him absorbing any impact, of him cradling her through it.

And cradling her afterward, too.

Because he didn't let go right away. He just held her like that, one arm around her waist, one hand in her hair. Her body firm against his side, her legs still tangled around one of his. Plus he was staring at her so intently, with so much fierceness in his face—honestly, she thought he was going to fume at her. She prepared to hear him say, that was so reckless. What were you thinking?

But instead, she got this: "You really flew, god, you really did."

And spoken so softly, so breathlessly, too.

While his gaze stroked her upturned face like a warm, soft hand.

So it only seemed natural to want to say something back. Something as heartfelt as she'd longed to say before, back at the house, when he'd said that thing about eternity so casually. I did it because I can do anything when you're with me , she thought, and came so close to just letting it out. She could almost taste it on the tip of her tongue. Almost saw his reaction to it, already dawning.

But a millisecond before she could do it, there was a sound from the garden.

One she could barely hear, but knew was bad.

She knew it, because Seth immediately whipped his head toward it.

Then he growled. He growled loudly . She saw his throat vibrate; he bared his suddenly sharpening teeth. He even took a step in the direction of whatever had his hackles up, seemingly and suddenly insensible of anything but that. She had to pull him back, just to get some answers.

Though he gave her none. He just told her to stay where she was.

As if she was ever going to be able to do that. The second he set her down and disappeared between the trees, she followed. And she only stopped when she saw that he wasn't going any farther. He was just past the tree line, at the very edge of her garden. Sort of frozen, like he had seen something terrible. Then she stepped forward, she went to say something, and she saw it too.

And now she was frozen, just like him.

Because good god, it was them .

It was them. It was them. The stars of her every high school nightmare. The three members of the Jerk Squad, right there on the grass. Bold as brass and twice as terrible, in a way that almost made her run back into the woods. She had to remind herself that running was ridiculous, considering where they were. This was her yard. Outside her house.

If anything, they should be the ones fleeing.

But of course they weren't, and would probably never feel any urge to. Why would they, when they had quite clearly been planning this for some time? Because she knew now that they had. It was them she'd felt watching her. Watching the house. Watching her and Seth's every move.

So they had to know she was no threat.

And even if they weren't entirely sure—well, what did it matter?

They were just as strapping and sure of themselves as she remembered. Just as powerful, just as intimidating. Every one of them over six feet tall, bulging with muscle, and full to the brim with that lazy, careless cruelty she remembered so well. She even thought of it all now:

Letting a door slap closed in her face, then calling it an accident.

Tripping her, but blaming it on her clumsiness.

Then the taste of blood at the back of her throat. The memory of Seth's face as he held a bag of frozen peas to her swollen lip. I'll stop them one day, he had said over that. But of course that day had never come. Him being buddies with them hadn't changed much of anything. And now here they were, again, even worse than they'd been before.

Much, much worse.

Because the thing was, they weren't just jerks anymore. She knew they weren't, immediately and completely. The same way you know it's electricity shocking you when you stick your fingers into a socket. It was just there, blazing through her, burning everything away as it went. That knowledge, that understanding:

They were werewolves.

Somehow, they were absolutely and totally werewolves.

Even though not one of them had any physical signs. In fact, they looked almost exactly as they had in high school. Jason stood in front, blond and blue-eyed and all bully-boy energy. That fucking letterman jacket still on his back, like he'd just arrived from central casting for the villain role in an eighties high school movie. Like he'd peaked in that role, and never moved past it.

And it was the same with the two flanking him, Jordan and Tyler. The former too red-haired and pasty-skinned to ever be considered as attractive as the others. The latter with that dough-faced, small-eyed, buzz-cut look the girls had gone wild over, in a way she had never understood.

Hell, she'd never understood why anyone went wild over any of them.

They looked like jackals to her.

And even more so now, with that animal energy radiating off them. It made her prickle in places she couldn't name. She wanted to spray them all with the lemon potion, and watch them smack their own faces instead of hers.

Though really, it was Seth she was most concerned for.

Because it seemed that he was their focus. "Well, hey there, buddy, long time no see," Jay said. And the others tittered, until a look from Jay made them fall silent. As if some kind of alpha hierarchy did exist among wolves.

But just for these assholes, obviously.

These are the ones Seth was talking about when he said the only other werewolves around here are not good people , she thought, and knew she was right. It was obvious even before he replied. She could feel him urging her to move behind him, so skillfully and subtly she barely knew it was happening. Until his body blocked her view of them.

And he sounded mad as hell when he answered.

"I'm not your buddy," he said. "So get the fuck out of here."

But in answer they only sniggered and hooted.

Then just as abruptly fell silent, in a way that had always creeped her out. Like they didn't really understand what laughter was, and only did it to imitate real human behavior. Just before they did something so soulless, you sort of doubted they were.

And god, she didn't want to know how soulless they could be, now that they had fangs and superhuman strength and who knows what else. She didn't want to look at Jay's suddenly blank, flat-eyed expression, or hear him sneer, "Ooohhh, big talk now that you've got your little girlfriend with you." While knowing that he could probably bite her arm off.

It was too unsettling. And not just because of the horrifying mixture of that coldness, and the high school gibe, and the idea of them being able to do something incredibly brutal. No—there was also how it affected Seth. Immediately, like they'd hit a button marked sore spot.

"Just shut the fuck up. She's not my girlfriend," he said, so fiercely it almost stung her.

Who cares if they think I am , she wanted to say to him. We both know it will never be a thing . But of course she couldn't. Because doing so would have felt like admitting that she thought it might have been. It gave those three power over her.

And they already had enough as it was.

"Yeah, so you always said. But it's all these years later and here you two are, thick as thieves. Practically hugging each other in front of us. Flirting in the woods. Being concerned about what the big bad wolves might do to you," Jason said.

While Seth stood like stone.

For a second, she thought he wasn't even going to respond. But then he did, he did. "We're not hugging, and we weren't flirting, and if you try to do anything to her I might have to slap your goddamn faces off your smug little skulls," he snarled.

Which, if she was being honest, made even her look at him.

So there was no surprise that his statement got a strong reaction from the Jerks. Jason's face twisted into an even uglier expression than he'd worn before, all deep furrows above his usually perfect nose, lip curled high enough that she could see how sharp his teeth were. And the other two could barely contain themselves. Tyler actually started barking and snarling; Jordan lunged forward.

Only Jason's raised hand stopped them. Though even then, Jordan tried to protest.

"Can we get them now? I want to eat her, I'm hungry," he whined, and two things happened when he did. She thought automatically, blankly, Oh, we are in even more trouble than I initially thought . And Seth snarled . He snarled and jerked forward in almost the exact way Jordan had done.

Like a dog on a leash , she thought.

Only in Seth's case, the leash was her.

She put a hand out and grabbed his arm, instinctively. Then was pretty shocked when he didn't yank away. He obeyed her, even though she could feel the wolf inside him, buzzing just beneath his skin. She could sense it pushing against the potion on him, and the potion on her. A little more pressure, and she would be holding on to something decidedly more beast-like.

Though she wasn't entirely sure if that would be a bad thing, given what they were facing. Because although Jay said, "Okay, cool your jets, nobody is eating anyone," she didn't think he was telling the truth. And sure enough the whiny twosome had things to add.

"But, boss, you promised."

"You said I could have her right thigh."

"We were told we would feast tonight."

Much to Jay's equally deadly sounding exasperation.

"Yeah, and that was before I was sure about what she is," he said. Then he leaned to the side. He peered around Seth, right at her. "And now I am sure, and it's a lot tastier than lunch, isn't it, Cassie? Come on, don't be shy. Come out from behind your boyfriend and show us what you are."

But oh, she didn't want to deal with whatever that meant. So she tried going with what Seth had. Something ordinary. Something that made sense. "He's not my boyfriend," she said, and in answer, Jason chuckled mirthlessly.

"And that's not the point."

"I don't care what your point is."

"Sure you do. That's why you're hiding behind him. That's why he's trying to hide you. Trying to keep you away from us. Trying to keep you all to himself, just like he did with your grandmother. Because he's a greedy fuck."

Oh Jesus , she thought. Is that why Seth wanted to know how Gram died? Because he wondered if these chucklefucks did it? Then felt extremely thankful that it had been indisputably natural causes. Because if it hadn't?

She felt pretty sure she would have let go of Seth's arm.

And god only knew what would happen then. The things that were happening now were bad enough. "He doesn't eat me, if that's what you're implying," she blurted out, and couldn't even pretend that nobody had noticed the innuendo. She actually felt Seth go all hot, in a way she knew must be embarrassment. She knew, and couldn't help fretting about it. Because what if he decided he didn't like the way she was making him feel? What if he thought, again, that her friendship wasn't as valuable and cool as theirs? Hell, maybe one of them was even his maker. Maybe he had to obey them somehow.

Which felt wrong as soon as she thought it.

But it still compounded the other issues. It still made her think, then I'll be on my own .

And this time, it would be against four werewolves. One of whom was still talking in a manipulative, sly sort of way. "Maybe he does, maybe he doesn't. Either way, he enjoys keeping that magic in you all to himself. Hasn't so much as said a word to anyone in the community about a brand new witch in our midst."

And now the other two were gasping.

And after a second they echoed that one word— witch witch witch . They said it over and over, in a way that sounded like leaves rustling.

"That's not what she is," Seth tried to say. But it was useless. It was pointless.

"You fucking liar. I can smell it from here," Jason said. And the others agreed.

"I can see it, I can see it now—look, she's shiny."

"Oh my god, she is, she's got all that stuff on her."

Jordan pointed, clearly pleased with himself for seeing.

At which point she couldn't help it. She lunged forward.

"Yeah, and if you come anywhere near us I'll get that stuff on you. Because I can do it, you know. I can throw spell bombs and turn you all into frogs. And then guess what? It's frog-fucking-soup time," she said, and was gratified to see the two dipshits look at each other worriedly.

Though Jay didn't seem worried at all.

"She's a baby. She probably can't even turn herself into anything yet, never mind us," he said. Then he seemed to consider. He seemed to narrow his eyes, before adding, "Though I know one thing she can do, if her boyfriend is any indication. Yeah, if he's running this hot and not even turning, she can make something that keeps it at bay. Something that heals stuff right."

And oh, that was bad, that was real bad. Yeah, that was going to be worse than the whole eating thing, and she knew it. She could see it in the way the other two reacted—like they'd been struck by lightning. Tyler actually gasped; Jordan seemed to freeze for a second.

And then the latter just couldn't seem to contain himself.

He lunged forward again. And this time he did it so violently, and so haphazardly, he actually made it past the calming hand Jay put up. He got all the way to about a foot in front of Seth—close enough that it made a sound kick out of her. It made her step forward, as a million ways to stop him tore through her head.

Yank Seth away , her mind screamed.

Hit him with something , it demanded.

Let him hit you so he hits himself , it suggested.

But before she could even try to do any of those things—before Jordan got even an inch closer to her—Seth lifted his hand. He drew it back, fast enough that everything else seemed to go into slow motion.

And then he just fucking belted him one. Oh, he hit him so hard she felt it impact her . That meaty thudding sound went right through her body, heavy as anything.

And the blow didn't just knock Jordan off his feet.

It sent him flying across the garden. Farther than she could have imagined. Farther than any smack should have done. So far, in fact, that when she finally dared to peer around Seth, she couldn't see Jordan at all. He'd barreled into the woods behind her grandmother's begonias, like a fucking cannonball.

And now the only thing she could make out was the tunnel he had cut, through the trees.

That fat, velvety darkness, the hint of leaves stirring.

Then after what felt like a long, tense silence, he showed himself again.

Only he wasn't exactly Jordan anymore.

He was a pair of eyes between the branches, bright and pale as the moon. Then more came, more terrifying than that. She glimpsed gray fur, slick and sickly looking. Shoulders so muscular they'd worn said fur to nothing, a set of teeth like knives. And all of it was followed by a growl, so low and heavy it took things from a ten on the terror scale to a ninety-seven.

It made her want to scream. To say to Seth that they should go.

But the thing was, she couldn't do anything. She couldn't move.

Not even when Seth tried to surreptitiously urge her in a certain direction.

Toward the house , she thought it was. Toward the door she didn't even have to unlock. They'd left it open in their rush to try flying, and now it was just right there, easy as anything.

Though he had to know: there was no way she was going without him.

Jordan had him flanked on one side, Tyler was trying to flank him on the other. And Jason was stalking forward, under the guise of trying to calm things down. "Easy there, big boy," he said. "We're not looking for trouble. We just want her for a little while, that's all. Just long enough to get what we need, spell-wise. And then you can have her back, good as new."

But of course, Seth was having none of it.

"There'll be no back."

"Oh, how do you figure that?"

"Because there isn't about to be a going."

"I think there will be. Three of us. And you all leashed."

"I'm not leashed when it comes to something like this."

"And what might this be, exactly?" Jay asked, and cocked his head.

Like it was all just a big game to him. A high school prank, the same as before. Only this time, nobody laughed. Nothing humiliated her. Instead, everything seemed to go very still and quiet.

Then Seth spoke, into the darkness and the silence.

"Defending the person I belong to. And who belongs to me."

And just as she looked at him, startled and full of questions, he turned, and took hold of her by the front of her sweater, and hauled her up off her feet. All in one motion, and so quickly the Jerks didn't have time to do a thing. She didn't have time to do a thing. She dangled there for a millisecond, his name still in the back of her throat.

Then he wound his arm back, and threw her .

He hurled her, the way you might a set of keys to someone waiting with an outstretched hand. Only there was no hand waiting. There was nothing, just the porch and the house and oh god she was going to crash through a window. She was going to smash into a fence post.

Why the fuck did he do this , her brain yelled.

About a second before she hit the porch, so softly and perfectly it felt as if the floorboards kissed her butt. She practically skimmed over them, straight through the door and into the hallway beyond. Like she was on an ice rink, executing the kind of glide that shouldn't have been possible. Olympic skaters would have missed that move, she thought.

But then, he was better than any Olympic skater ever would be.

He was better than any athlete to ever exist.

He was a wolf.

And that had never been clearer than it was now, as she came to a graceful stop by the stairs, and looked up. And there he was, framed by the open door. Caught in the porch lights perfectly, in a way that made him glow.

It made him, as monstrous as he was, beautiful.

Though she suspected he would have been anyway. His fur was the color of night dissolving into day—black and gray and everything in between. And he was enormous, truly immense, bigger than she'd ever pictured. He filled the whole of that bright rectangle, a riot of muscle and sinew and fangs and claws. All of it terrifying, utterly terrifying.

Yet somehow, so awe inspiring she couldn't do anything but stare.

As if nothing else was happening. As if time had stopped. All the fighting and snarling and violence hung suspended, just long enough for her to live in that glimpse of him. She got to glory in it, feel it down to her bones, know that she would never forget it.

Before one of the others struck him, and they tumbled into the darkness.

And all the horror restarted, like someone pressing play on a movie. She heard snarls, and something breaking. The bird bath, she suspected. Or maybe someone's bones. Then just as she started to get to her feet, there was another sound.

A strange clicking, beneath the roar of rage. Like nails on wood, she thought.

About a second before she saw one of the wolves, stalking up the porch steps.

Sickly, and meaner looking than Seth had been. A wolf as ugly on the outside as it was on the inside, seizing its chance to slink into the house, while everyone else was distracted. Slowly, so slowly she had to think it was afraid of her.

And all she could think about that was:

Well, if you are, I'm gonna make sure I prove you right .

She made two fists, like she'd seen that fairy do. As if she was going to hurl magic right at the thing. And when it hesitated, when it growled, she started to ease herself up again. Cautiously, with her eyes always on the beast. Hands always out, ready to strike with spells she didn't have. Breath held, every bit of her willing herself to get to where she needed to be:

On her feet, so she could run.

And the second she managed, she did.

She went straight for the kitchen, faster than she'd ever done anything in her life.

Yet still, she felt something snag the sleeve of her sweater. She got a gust of hot, fetid breath against the nape of her neck, and thought that it had her. That it was going to get some part of her that wasn't covered in potion. And even if it didn't—this move had been a mistake.

It wasn't going to work.

She had to grab something. Hit it with a chair, anything.

And she went to—she got hold of the back of the nearest one. But when she turned, chair only partly in her hands, and screamed, and went to smash the creature with it, she saw it was already cringing away. As if something had frightened it.

Then she heard the sound.

The one it had obviously heard before her, building in the background. Like metal grinding against metal, and wood shoving against wood. And just as she thought, ridiculously, inexpli cably, that is the noise a kitchen cabinet makes when it tries to uproot itself and lunge at something , it happened. The cupboard next to the sink tore itself free, and flew at the wolf behind her.

She felt the wood graze her cheek. Utensils spilled out as it went, showering her right foot with spoons and forks and knives. But the spoons and forks and knives didn't stay there. No, they jumped up, and flung themselves at the beast too.

And oh, they did it hard . They broke skin.

It looked like a porcupine, within seconds. Forks jutted up from its thighs; knives now covered its arms. And it wasn't just the sharp items, either. What looked like a plastic spatula was lodged in one of its legs. As if things like blunt edges and the laws of physics no longer mattered.

Nothing mattered, except repelling whatever was attacking her.

Which was probably why the microwave flung itself at the beast next. She heard it beep wildly as it went by, and almost tried to stop it. Not you, you're alive , she thought wildly. But the thing was, the whole kitchen currently appeared to be. It moved and reacted and breathed all around her, in a great whirlwind of activity. Like a living hurricane.

Only somehow it was one that never touched her.

She didn't so much as get a splinter in her cheek.

While the wolf howled and writhed and tried to attack anything that came at it. It snapped a chair into splinters in one bite; it swiped at utensils with its huge paws. But of course by the time it did anything, something else was already hitting it from another angle. She saw a jar smack into its back, as it finished destroying a cupboard. And when it did, it exploded. Liquid came boiling and frothing out, all over its fur.

Clear, at first.

But then suddenly it seemed to turn pink, and red, and finally it hit her. Whatever had been in the container was acting on the wolf like frigging acid . It was blistering skin, and melting fur into a gelatinous goo. In fact, for one harrowing moment, she thought she glimpsed bone. She thought she glimpsed skull .

Then the beast shrieked, and fled.

Leaving Cassie leaning against the skewed kitchen table, sucking in all the breaths she hadn't been able to for the last half hour. She gulped air by the great, shuddering lungful, every inch of her shaking like she never had in her life. She lifted a hand in front of her face, and it quivered so much that it made her think of Jell-O. In a cement mixer. Set to high.

And she couldn't think rationally. Her mind was a great, roaring noise, full of mangled werewolves, and kitchen utensils like arrows, and the microwave—god, the microwave had taken a bullet for her. It does love me after all , she found herself thinking, then for some ungodly reason choked up. And she fully broke down when she heard it beep, forlornly, from somewhere in the hall. In fact, she almost went to it.

And then it struck her:

Seth.

Fucking Seth.

Holy shit, Seth was out there with those monsters, while she stood here blubbering over a kitchen appliance. But it was okay, it was good, because she knew what to do now. She'd seen what hurt them, and the spray bottle was right there, intact, as if it had been waiting for her to grab it.

Like a spare bullet , she thought, and snatched it up.

Then she did what she knew had made the beast's flesh melt. She poured some of the extra-strength werewolf potion into the bottle, and shook it up. Because that was the secret, she was certain. That was what had acted like an acid. It had knocked the Make Nice formula up from a protection potion, to an outright Werewolf Killer.

And now she was going to kill some fucking werewolves with it.

She didn't even think twice about it. She ran to the front door, and flung herself out of the house. Took the porch steps in one go, and practically flew across the grass to the first enemy she could find. Jordan, she thought it was, because he was barely in the fight that was taking place between Seth and Jay. He was just on the sidelines, snapping ineffectually.

Plus, the moment the spray hit him, he howled .

He practically shrieked, like the little coward he was—and immediately turned tail.

Which left Jay. Jay, who in wolf form was almost as big as Seth. Pale-furred, like his hair, and as grisly looking as the other two. Tiny, beady little eyes, paws all knuckle, bones in places no bones should be. There was a great muddle of them, over the curve of his back. More making impossible spine-like ridges, down the backs of both hind legs. And oh, his face was grotesque.

Ninety percent teeth.

He looked like a shark, she thought, that had somehow gained the ability to walk on land.

But it didn't matter. Nothing mattered, the second she thought of those fangs sinking into Seth. Seth, who had done everything in his power to protect her. Seth, who had looked at her like that, as he held her in his arms. Seth who had said return what I took , as if it wasn't anything at all.

Even though it was the whole world. It was her best friend, come back to her.

And so she didn't just step forward and spray the thing attacking him.

She unscrewed the top of the bottle, and smashed it into the first part of the wolf she could reach. She turned the bottle into a hand grenade, without caring what it might do. If he dies, he dies , she thought wildly, as flesh boiled to bone beneath her hands. As the beast shrieked and writhed and struggled to get away from her, before it had nothing left to get away from her with.

Most of its hind leg was gone now.

It had to stumble on the remaining three to make it to the tree line. Then it disappeared into the undergrowth, as the others had done. Like it was just as much of a coward as them, when facing a real threat. A serious threat.

Because that's what I am , she thought as she looked down at her bloody hands in the ringing silence and stillness that followed. I am powerful enough to threaten the boys who once held me against my locker with one hand while smacking Seth across the face with the other .

And she really wanted to marvel over that, for a while.

But she couldn't, because the second there was real silence she heard the pained sounds. Desperate ones, of the sort that made her heart clench, in the same way it had all those years ago. Although this time, it wasn't over a bloodied nose or a broken finger or a bruised rib.

It wasn't any injury at all.

It was her friend doing his best to turn back. To go back to being a person, now that the danger was past. Despite how much the effort seemed to be hurting him. God, she could see how much it was hurting him.

"Seth, it's okay. It's okay. Stay like that. I'm not afraid," she said as she stepped toward the humped shape he was making on the grass. But he didn't listen. He kept on fighting it. He gritted half-human teeth, saliva foaming between them as he strained. Eyes closed tight, as everything ripped. As some muscles shrank and others remained, as bones cracked and popped like fireworks, as fur seemed to shrink or shed or simply melt away.

So she went to crouch next to him, like she had at the gorge.

To put a gentling hand on him, and soothe him out of the state he was in.

But before she could, he scrabbled away. He squeezed out words.

"No," he gasped. "No, stay where you are."

And his voice held such a note of desperation that she didn't know how to disobey. She just stood there, helpless, as he slowly and agonizingly became something like a man again, and shakily got to his feet. Though even after he had, he didn't seem to want her to come near him.

She took a step, and he held up a hand.

Shook his head, when she suggested that she get him some clothes.

"You can't leave like that," she tried to half laugh—because he was barely wearing a stitch. He had on the collar of his shirt and one leg of his jeans. And that pants leg was not covering a lot. She had to keep her eyes well above his waist, to spare his blushes.

But he didn't seem to care.

In fact, if anything, he seemed more afraid of her getting close to him than he had before. He almost stumbled back when she so much as reached a hand out to him. Like he's ashamed of something , she thought. And the flush all over his face seemed to confirm. As did the way he sounded when he spoke.

"Just protect yourself, protect the house. I'll be back soon," he said, as wavery as wind through reeds. Then before she could protest—before she could say, But what about you, what if they try to get you again? —he turned his back to her. He aimed for the woods.

And he was gone.