Blood Beast

for the toilet. Didn’t make it. Was violently sick against the classroom door. Lots of cheers from the boys, gasps of disgust from the girls. Didn’t stop to catch an earful from Mr. Clifford. Bolted for the toilet and spent the next ten minutes hugging a hard plastic seat.

Juni drove me home. I threw up twice into a bag along the way. I’ve had the dry heaves since then, though Juni makes me drink lots of water, so sometimes I vomit clear, acidic liquid.

“You’re going to be OK,” Dervish lies, grasping my shoulders as I cry out in pain. It feels as if there’s a second body growing within mine, forcing its way out.

“I could try a sleeping spell,” Juni says.

“Don’t be stupid,” Dervish barks. “The only reason he hasn’t turned is because he’s fighting so damn hard. He can’t fight if he’s asleep.”

“Sorry. I wasn’t thinking. I just hate to see him in so much agony.”

I scream hoarsely, sure my head is about to split down the middle. Dimly aware of a heat in my stomach, the magical heat which was there last month. It’s battling the wolfen change, keeping me human, denying the demands of the beast. Unable to tell Dervish and Juni about it. Incapable of speech. Only screams.

Later. The moon starting to dip. Moments of quiet after hours of madness. The sheets of the bed are ripped in many places. Dervish is cut above his left eye and both his cheeks are bruised.

“Did… I do… that?” I groan.

“No,” he deadpans, carefully pouring water down my throat. “I walked into a wardrobe.”

“We thought we’d lost you,” Juni says, squeezing my hand. I’ve scratched her forehead but it’s not a deep cut.

“The… magic,” I gasp. Both of them pause. “Did you… feel it?”

“No,” Dervish says.

“It was… there. That’s how… I fought. Would have… turned… otherwise.”

“Juni?” Dervish asks.

“I sensed something,” she says hesitantly. “I wasn’t sure if it was magic or the energy generated by the… the alteration.”

“The werewolf,” I grin weakly. “Go on, say it, just once.”

“There’s no such creature,” Juni huffs.

I start to reply but pain strikes again, deep in my gut. I double over. The water comes up almost as quickly as it went down. Hits Dervish hot in the face. He ignores it and pins me to the bed, talking fast again, trying to comfort me, his words only a dim murmur above my endless, wretched screams.

The beast snarls and claws at my skin from the inside. It can’t speak—it’s a wild animal—but I can sense its feelings and translate them into words. Release me, it would demand if it could. End the pain. Set me free. Become what you must. We can run as one and take the night.

“No!” I howl back, clubbing it down with fists of a magic I don’t understand.

You can’t deny me.

“Get stuffed!” is my eloquent response.

The internal battle rages on but I have the sense that I’m winning. The pull of the moon is fading. The creature has lost the fight. But there’s another night to come and it will be stronger then. Perhaps too strong.

You can’t deny me, the beast hisses again from somewhere deep inside me, deeper than it should be. This is what we are. It’s our fate.

“I’ll choose my own fate,” I mutter, staying on guard, ready to fight again if it launches a last-minute attack. But it doesn’t. The sun is rising. The moon’s losing its lustre. I’ve won—for now.

Wearily sitting up. Dervish and Juni regard me suspiciously. Both exhausted. Cut, bruised and scratched in many places.

“What happened to you two?” I quip.

“Now he gets cocky,” Dervish growls. “For the last eight or nine hours it’s been screams and agony, hell on Earth. But now, with the sun rising, you feel like you can joke, regardless of the agony you’ve put us through.”

We regard each other coolly—then laugh.

“We survived!” I shout.

“You beat it!” Dervish chortles, hugging me tight.

Juni just smiles tiredly, watching us.

When Dervish releases me, I collapse backwards and stare at the ceiling.

“How do you feel?” Dervish asks. “Or is that a stupid question?”

“No,” I sigh. “I don’t feel so bad. Tired, but not as beat as you or Juni look. To tell the truth, I’m hungry.”

“If you’re expecting breakfast in bed, you’re in for a nasty surprise,” Juni snaps. Dervish and I giggle.

“It was strange,” I mumble, recalling my battle, especially the end when I imagined the beast speaking to me. “Like I was wrestling with another person—a thing—inside myself. But really wrestling. Like it was there physically. My body was a ring and there were two of us inside the ropes. It was the hardest fight of my life.”

“No piece of cake for us on the outside either,” Dervish says, touching his bruised cheeks. “You put us through the wringer. I know you’re a colossus in the making, but I wouldn’t have credited you with that much strength.”

“It would have been worse if the beast had won,” I tell him quietly. “I could feel it. So strong. Without the magic, it would have walked all over me, burst loose, torn into you. Tonight… when the moon’s full…”

“Don’t think about that. We’ll take this one fight at a time. Focus on the victory now. Deal with the next bout when we’re faced with it.” He stands, stretches and groans.

“Go to bed.” Juni smiles. “You worked hard and took most of the blows. We both need to get a lot of sleep today, but you more than me.”

“I’ll be fine,” Dervish says, then wobbles on his feet and almost falls.

Juni steadies him, then says firmly, “Bed!”

“Yes, miss,” Dervish sighs. “You coming?”

“Soon. I want to sit with Grubbs a while longer.”

Dervish leaves, rubbing the small of his back and groaning. Juni watches him go, then examines her wounds. Murmuring spells, she brushes her fingers over the light cuts on her arms. They heal swiftly, the flesh closing neatly, only the slightest lines of red giving away the fact that she’d been scratched at all.

“Neat trick.”

“A useful spell.” She works on her neck and face. “It’s no good on deep gashes but it’s perfect for little rips like these. Better than plasters or bandages. I’ll tidy Dervish up later.”

Finishing, she turns her attention to me. Wipes hair back from my eyes. Heals the scratch on my forehead. Rubs the flesh to make sure it’s OK, then says softly, “He was terrified. I was too, but not as much as Dervish. He really loves you.”

“I know.”

“He’d give his life for you if it would change anything.”

I stare at her silently. There are tears in her eyes. I instinctively know why she’s saying this, defending him when there’s no apparent need. “He called the Lambs,” I whisper.

She nods miserably. “I got him to admit it. He didn’t want to involve them. But if you turn, you have to be killed. He can’t do that, not kill his own nephew. So, as much as he hates them…”

“It’s OK,” I tell her, forcing a weak smile. “He didn’t have a choice.”

“I suppose.” She sighs, lowering her gaze. “I had a son once.” I blink, not sure how to respond to this startling, unexpected confession. “A darling boy. He was my world. Died in his sleep a few months before his second birthday. A brain defect. There were no warning signs. Nothing anybody could have done about it.”

She breaks down in tears. I pat her back clumsily, wishing I could wash her hurt away with words, feeling as useless as I’ve ever felt. Finally she regains control and wipes her cheeks dry.

“It almost destroyed me,” she croaks. “I survived, but only just. Became a child psychologist so I could be close to other children, ease my pain by helping them with theirs.” She laughs hoarsely. “I once said you were psychologically plain. Well, I’m an open book too. Whenever anything goes wrong in my life, I hide behind work,