“Some space?” Fire burned under my skin. I shook with anger and surging power. Something was wrong. Most definitely wrong. Fight or Flight, that voice whispered inside my head. But a small, rational part of my brain didn’t want to lash out at Daniel, so I did what felt like second nature to me now. “Have all the space you want,” I said, and ran.
“Wait, Gracie!” Daniel shouted as I bolted down the driveway. “Damn it, that’s not what I meant.”
But I kept running—even when I heard the roar of Daniel’s motorcycle behind me. I picked up my speed. He shouted my name, told me to stop.
But I couldn’t. Power seeped into every cell of my body, pushing me faster. Daniel pulled up beside me on his motorcycle. I could hear him calling me, but I veered up onto the curb and cut through several yards and weaved in between houses where he couldn’t follow.
And even though I knew I’d shaken Daniel, I didn’t slow down. The crescent-shaped scar on my arm flared like crazy. I picked up my already sprinting pace. I ran faster now than I could have ever dreamed of only a few months before. But I willed myself to go even faster.
My legs screamed for more speed.
I needed it.
Craved it.
My feet picked up momentum like lightning under me. The night was dark now, but as the blood pulsed into my face, I felt a burning pressure behind my eyes. I blinked and suddenly my vision was clearer, sharper, almost as if the night had brightened. I could see just as well as if it were dusk on a cloudy day.
But the thing was, I didn’t need to see. My feet knew where to go on instinct. They landed in just the right places, narrowly missing the cracks and potholes in the uneven streets. They found the easiest path between the headstones and overgrown bushes in the graveyard on Faraway
Boulevard. And with every lightning-quick step, the pain and anger inside of me melted away, replaced by a feeling of sheer exhilaration.
Freedom.
Abandon.
Like how I’d felt the first time I ran with Daniel in the forest. Back when he was the one who had to pull me along. Back when I was only human. It had felt wonderful then … like nothing I’d known before. But this was so much more than that. Not merely energy transferred from someone else.
This came from inside of me. This was my power. And no one could take it away from me.
I tilted my head back, taking in the glow of the glistening sliver of a moon rising in the night sky as I ran, and let that feeling of power wash through me. Tingling warmth spread up my arms and legs and into my chest. You’re in control now, that foreign voice reassured me as I ran.
I’d finally broken through the barrier.
The moon peeked over the steeple of the parish as I sprinted down Crescent Street. It was a Sunday, and a school night, and most of Rose Crest had gone to bed. I’d passed only a couple of cars on the street, and the parking lot for the school and the parish was empty. It felt exhilarating to have gone so far, done so much, while most of the town was tucked in bed at home. And I still couldn’t believe that I’d run full tilt for so long, using all my powers at the same time without losing my grip on them. Part of me wanted to go back to Daniel’s—tell him the good news, see the look of pride on his face. But then I remembered why I’d started running in the first place, and my heart sank with sorrow.
I slowed my pace to a jog. I had only a few more blocks until home, and I wanted to cool down. But then I noticed something strange about the parish as I went past: the lights were on.
It was late, and Dad was still out of town. I knew it was possible that the lights had been left on at some point over the weekend, but a feeling—
kind of like an extra sense—told me that someone, or something, was inside the building.
But who would be in there at this hour?
My thoughts immediately went to what happened at the market, the report about the attempted break-in at the school, and Daniel’s speculation that Jude was revisiting the places of his past misdeeds. First Maryanne’s house, James’s window, Day’s Market, and then the school. Wouldn’t the logical next place be the parish—the final place he’d go? The place where he’d ultimately turned into a werewolf, the place where he’d attacked me, infected me, and where he’d tried to kill Daniel?
I didn’t want to believe that Jude was trying to cause damage and terror on purpose. But if this was his final stop on his tour of his past crimes, then this could be my only chance to find him—especially since my only other lead hadn’t panned out.
I slowed my pace even more as I approached the parish, and I tried to will my heart to stop pounding so loudly. I listened as closely as I could over my disobedient heartbeat, concentrating on far-off noises: the sound of a car on the empty evening streets, a song whistled by another person somewhere down the block, the chirp of the crosswalk meter.
I followed another sound, a rustling noise, like boxes or objects being moved around, down the alley between the parish and the school. At first I thought the noise came from my father’s office. I hesitated for a moment outside the door in the alley, but then I realized the sound came from somewhere deeper inside the parish. I slipped around the side of the building to another door in the back. It was the entrance to the small caretaker’s apartment that had been unoccupied since Don Mooney died. Dad hadn’t rented out the apartment again, and it had been left untouched since the day we heard about Don’s death.
My ears picked up a rattling from behind the door. It sounded like a stuck drawer being forced open. Suddenly, I wasn’t thinking about rescuing
Jude anymore. I was thinking about the destruction caused at Day’s Market. All the anger I’d felt today filled me again. Someone might be trying to do the same to your father’s parish, said that voice in my head. Starting in your friend’s old home. I wasn’t going to let someone get away with that —even if that someone was my own brother.
That rumbling anger surged through me. Clutched at my heart like a clawed hand. Before I could stop myself, I burst through the doorway into the room.
A tall man whirled around in front of Don’s desk. Something silver flashed in his hand. My feet and arms were not my own as I flew at him. A look of shock crossed his face as I knocked the knife from his hand and hit him in the chest with the butt of my hand. He flew back and slammed against the wall, and then landed on top of the desk. I jumped on top of him and grabbed him by the throat.
“How dare you,” I snarled. “How dare you try to steal my friend’s things?” I raised my fist above the man’s face, ready to smash it into his nose if he so much as made a false move.
But the man didn’t struggle. He just stared up at me. My breaths heaved in my chest, and my hand trembled with rage as I held my fist above his head. But I couldn’t help staring back into his steel-blue eyes—eyes that seemed familiar, like I’d gazed into them before. The man seemed young, mid-twenties maybe, but something about his eyes seemed absolutely ancient—like he’d seen enough of the world to fill a dozen lifetimes.
My fingers twitched against his throat. I could feel his pulse in my hand, steady and sure. Something foreign and hateful inside my head told me to squeeze. Punish this man for invading this place.
But did I really want to do that?
A smile slid across the stranger’s lips. It seemed as ancient as his eyes. “Hello, Grace,” he said, sounding somewhat strangled.
At the sound of my name, the power clutching my heart eased a bit. I gasped at the sight of my hand gripping his throat. But I didn’t let go. I couldn’t until I knew what this man was doing here. “How do you know me?” I demanded.
I looked the man over for the first time. Or what little I could see of him, since I was straddling him, pinning
