44. Chapter 44
Chapter 44
Delilah
“ R un,” I whisper, though I know he will hear. I can feel his proximity. There is no time to tie me up, no time to call Faye, no time to keep Cedric safe, if he gets too close. This is all wrong. I was supposed to explain , and he should have never, ever seen me like this–
“Delilah, what’s happening?”
“Run!” I cry, tears pricking at my eyes as my nails are gone, a sharp set of claws growing instead.
“I’m not leaving you again,” he says. The words sound distorted to my ears, but I can hear the held-together panic in them. “Delilah.”
This is about to be infinitely worse than a broken door and shattered pots.
You’re still you , I repeat in my head, uselessly clawing at the shreds of my humanity, when there is about to be nothing human left of me. “Please,” I repeat, but I know with every fiber of my body that he won’t. “I’m so sorry,” I add, my voice low and unrecognizable, tears slipping freely out of my eyes as I drag myself on the front porch. My vision shifts. Grays overtake the greens of the trees and the grass, as my heartbeat quickens, ruddy fur replacing any sliver of skin.
The next thing I know is that I don’t know myself at all.
Cedric
“Delilah,” I repeat, but it’s not her that I’m watching move before my eyes.
She makes a low sound in her throat as she collapses on the porch, weight on her forearms. I step forward, but she must sense it, because one of her arms shoots back toward me in warning as her back curves. Her outstretched hand is no longer that, razor-sharp claws poking out of her fingers.
And that’s when I realize what is happening.
Blaine trots past me, and I’m barely quick enough to snatch him before he can run to Delilah–or what Delilah is becoming. It all happens in such quick succession, I’m helpless to do anything but watch.
Where less than a minute ago was her curved body, there is now a huge, softly snarling wolf, its reddish fur bathed in the white of the moonlight. Blaine struggles in my grasp, and as my mind flashes to yesterday, now I understand.
He thought it was her.
I swallow, gently placing him down, and when he makes a run toward Delilah, she barely even flinches. He sniffs at her curiously, apparently used to his owner in this form. I’m holding my breath, though Blaine presses his snout against one of Delilah’s legs, then trots back inside, slipping past me.
“Delilah?” I ask again.
She turns slowly, her hazel eyes replaced by a pair of bigger, yellow-tinted ones. I don’t know if she can recognize me, but when I take a tentative step forward, she growls, a sound that seems to come from the depths of her being.
I reach out, keeping eye contact, because I don’t feel as afraid as I probably should. Every conversation we’ve had about secrets and shame pushes for dominance in my mind, but now is not the time to be methodical. It’s time to make sure she doesn’t run away. Or murder me, if she’s so inclined.
“It’s alright,” I say, but when I take another small step ahead, her strong paws propel her forward. She rises on her hind legs, snarling, her claws tearing at nothing, and then she breaks into an impossibly fast run.
“Bloody hell,” I mutter before making a potentially unwise decision, and running after her as fast as I can.
I almost lose her, because no matter how much I’ve trained and how hard I pump my legs, she is preternaturally fast, but I refuse to give up. As her tail–yes, she has a tail, push this information to the back of your mind, Cedric–disappears behind a corner, I barely avoid hitting a bicycle propped on the bakery wall. I am distantly aware that the square is emptier than I’ve ever seen it, the stalls closed even though they’re usually open until late. The infamous curfew must be in place. Delilah’s paws skitter on the ground and she almost slips at the next corner as the path turns uphill. This gives me a small but useful advantage in my inappropriate shoes, but an ear-piercing howl echoes through the trees, powerful enough to make me dizzy for a few precious seconds. I’m breathing heavily as I look up, her body disappearing from sight.
“Fuck,” I whisper, squeezing my eyes shut to try and gain some semblance of clarity. I can’t leave her wandering around Fern Port all night. That is simply out of the question. I don’t know how present to herself she is in this form, but the thought she might be terrified of my reaction? That she might think I hate her for not telling me the truth sooner? I cannot accept that. However complicated my feelings might be, I know what it means. Not personally, but I know . She was going to tell me now, wasn’t she?
And someone who hasn’t lived the life I have might think this is insane, and would likely be boarding the next boat out of here, but that is not me.
I’m in love with this girl.
Everything else, however supernatural in nature, tends to fade in front of that.
I consider my options, though getting lost in the woods and possibly maimed by whatever other creatures might be lurking there doesn’t sound like a solid plan.
I think I’m going to need some backup.
I pray I’m making the right call and not potentially putting Delilah in more danger as I grab my phone, which has mercifully not fallen from my back pocket during my feeble attempt to pursue an actual werewolf. I want to smack myself in the head for not even taking their existence into account. If vampires are real, why shouldn’t other creatures be ?
The line rings four, five times, and when I’m about to close the call, Faye’s voice, huskier than usual, says, “This better be important, Campbell.”
“Oh, believe me. It bloody is.”