“How did you-“
His grin widened. “Blue vervain is a wonderful thing, is it not? Pity it’s so hard to properly process these days.”
My magic was useless against magically enhanced blue vervain. As powerful as it was rare, I’d heard it could be ingested to create a temporary immunity to witch magic.
“They really aren’t here?” the man laughed, looking around. “I thought they’d come running in when I attacked you.”
“They aren’t here because I barely know them!” I snapped. Silently I wished they were here. I might not know them well, but I still felt as if I had done enough to earn even a phone call to warn me of what was going on.
He seemed to consider that, then shrugged. “Better safe than sorry, right? Besides-“ His grin turned almost apologetic. “I’m really hungry.”
At his words I spun and took off in a dead sprint, making my way up the row of tombs I’d come from.
I could hear him behind me, and when I looked back I saw that he was keeping up with me effortlessly. He wasn’t even trying. No, the wendigo was stalking me like the prey he saw me as.
I turned down another row, his laugh echoing off of the stone around us, and found myself at the entrance to the cemetery.
If I got back to the quarter, surely he couldn’t follow me. Not with everyone there.
Movement caught my eye and I slid to a stop, nearly overbalancing when a new figure leaned against the entry gates to the cemetery.
Red eyes glittered in the darkness and she smiled. She had been in the clearing and had disappeared with the vampires who’d refused to submit to Cian.
“Were you going somewhere?” the pale vampire asked, eyes wide with faux naiveté. “Am I in your way?” She made a show of stepping aside and gestured to the gate with a flourish. “I don’t like cemeteries, but if you come out to me I’m sure I can help you find your way.”
“Like I said to him,” I snapped, sidestepping and turning so that I could keep both preternaturals in my vision. “I’m not with Cian.”
The man shrugged once more.
“Wouldn’t he have come to help me? Wouldn’t he be here if I was?” I turned on the vampire, hoping to appeal to some semblance of a better nature with her.
She was studying her nails very pointedly.
“Are you going to play with your food or eat it, Jameson?” she asked finally, her red eyes flicking to the man prowling about with the knife. “I don’t wish to be here all night.”
“My apologies,” As he spoke, his voice got lower, more guttural, like he had something stuck in his throat. “I didn’t know we were on a timetable.”
His body twitched, limbs jolting at unnatural angles like he was being shocked.
As I watched, his arms lengthened, thinning so that the flesh had to stretch over the bones grotesquely. Fingers contorted, becoming longer, and talons crept from his nail beds.
Teeth lengthened last as he paused his shift hallway through, forgoing the antlers and skull that I’d unhappily expected to appear.
I’d never seen a wendigo before, but here he was. An actual, fucking wendigo with plans to eat me.
I threw a look at the vampire, who raised her brows at my panicked look. “You’re free to come out here,” she invited. “I’ve taken vervain as well; your little cards will do nothing to me, and your wards will not stop me from tearing out your throat. Which will it be, little witch? A wendigo’s fangs or mine?”
Her eyes glowed brighter at the prospect.
The knife clattered to the ground. Jameson didn’t need it with how long his talons were, and a mouth fit only for ripping flesh to shreds grinned at me, eyes gone white above his fangs and bone-sharp features.
It was fortunate that they didn’t know what else I was, though that surprise wouldn’t work after tonight.
Gently I let my bag slide to the ground, toeing my shoes off after it.
The wendigo laughed wetly, gesturing at me with one long-fingered hand.
“Don’t bother.” His words were slurred, voice guttural. This form was not made for speaking from. “I don’t mind ripping them off while I eat.”
Yikes.
“I’m not afraid of you,” I lied, my eyes blazing bright blue as I let my inner wolf out to play. Shapeshifting wasn’t like witch magic. I didn’t have to do a spell or call up a spark. It simply existed as a part of me, and I could change my skin to fur as easily as blinking.
He paused, head cocked as my ears parted my hair, tail curled around my waist as my own claws lengthened.
But I didn’t stop at a half shift.
Smoothly I shifted forms, the process taking only seconds so that I could stand in front of him as a very light, almost white wolf.
It was impossible to mistake a werewolf for a real one. Not only was I pushing two hundred and fifty pounds in this form, I was taller than a normal wolf, with shoulders and front legs built more like a tiger’s for grabbing and holding on. My claws, too, hooked forward from the fur of my paws, scratching on the stone under me as I bared long fangs in a growl.
“You’re a hybrid.” The wendigo tossed an accusing glare at the vampire, who stared at my new form.
“I didn’t know,” she snapped.
“No matter, I suppose. You’ll be dinner either way.” He stepped towards me, saliva dripping from a mouth that couldn’t properly close.
It was unfortunate that I couldn’t speak to him in this form.
My claws
