Chapter Nine Edith
Emilía is staring at me.
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 and pull—
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 jaw killing me? I wince as I roll onto my back. My mouth 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 is in there.
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 now this. 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 and human. 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. And blood. So much blood.
So much like my dream.
Could I really be responsible? I cover my face, trying to block out the images. No, no, no. I didn’t do that. I reached out for the symbol, trying to decipher it amid all the blood. That is why my hands were bloody. Not because I killed her. Right?
A loud knock on my door makes me jump.
“Leave me alone!” I shout. The last thing I want is to see Tala right now.
The door opens, but it isn’t her.
Nils stands there.
“Edith?” he asks, his brow furrowed. “Are you okay?”
I don’t know if I’ve ever been okay—or if I ever will be—but I’d sooner choke on the words than say them out loud. So I swallow past the lump in my throat and say, “Sorry, I had a bad nightmare. I’m still shaken up.”
“I know what that’s like,” Nils says slowly. “I used to have night terrors when I was younger.”
I frown. Even if he did, he doesn’t know what it’s like to be turning into a beast. But I can’t tell him that, especially not after what happened last night. Hopefully word hasn’t already spread through Skallagrim that I could be a killer.
“Anyway, sorry to barge in here like this,” Nils continues, looking a little sheepish. “I tried knocking, but when no one answered, I got worried and used a spell to open the door. Sorry again. Aunt Hel asked me to bring you to her office right away.”
“Did she say why?” I ask nervously.
Nils shrugs. “I’m sure it’s just new student stuff.”
At least Nils doesn’t seem to know about what happened last night. He was close with Emilía. If he knew, he wouldn’t be so calm. But Helga must. Why else would she want to see me? I nibble on a nail as questions start to swirl. Am I going to be expelled? Arrested?
What the hell am I going to tell Helga?