Shifting 2
I sent a glare his way. I was sure he could feel it, I wanted him to. Abigail stepped into my line of sight raising a brow but she said nothing. We both watched him disappear down the hallway.
Her eyes seemingly softened by a fraction as they roamed across my face. “Come on,” she said, gesturing for me to follow her toward a side hallway.
I hesitated holding my arm to my chest. “Where are we going?”
“To get that cleaned first,” she replied. “Unless you’d prefer to bleed out on Ethan’s prized Persian rug.”
I wouldn't mind but I refrained from retorting. Instead, I trailed behind her with sluggish steps dreading what I might see if I lifted the scarf holding my arm together.
The hallway led to a modest room that scented strongly of antiseptic. My nose burned from the smell. “Ugh, that's a lot of antiseptic.“
Abigail rummaged through a cabinet, pulling out a first-aid kit before setting it on a metal counter. “What do you mean? The smell's pretty muted.“
“This is muted? How often do you come here to be so used to it?“ I questioned, wrinkling my nose. Taking a look around the room looked like it hadn't been used in a while. I wondered why the smell was so bad then.
“I'm not sure what you mean,” she said casually but I didn't feel like probing. I had bigger things on my mind so I simply hummed a note as a response.
“Sit,” she ordered, nodding toward a stool by the counter where she placed the first aid kit.
“Right,” I obeyed, resting my injured arm on the metal surface.
Abigail unwrapped the scarf with surprising gentleness but it didn't stop the jab of pain that shot through my arm when a piece of the wooly fabric pricked my open wound.
I gawked, mouth wide open. “Did it get bad?“ I remarked tentatively. My wounds had grown worse than I remembered from an hour ago. The bluish hue in them had turned darker and the jagged gashes were lined with blood. I balled up my fist.
Somehow the bruises from being thrown against a school locker felt better compared to it and I hated how much I'd rather pick being a bully victim than a target of evil sorceresses.
“This won’t feel pleasant,” Abigail warned. I simply nodded to tell her I was ready regardless.
I was not.
I hissed the minute my wounds met the cloth she'd soaked in whatever solution was meant to help. She continued to dab them, cleaning every corner with precise efficiency
“Do you think he’s serious?” I quizzed in strained breaths. “About the shifting?”
She paused, her hands stilling for a brief second before continuing. “Ethan’s always serious. You’ll learn that soon enough.”
“That’s not reassuring,” I scoffed, rolling my eyes away. The sound of rustling interjected the still air.
“Good.“ She said in a stern tone. “You shouldn’t feel reassured. Shifting is brutal the first time, especially under stress. But it’s necessary.”
I watched as she stepped away to open a metal drawer by a locker set sitting against a charcoal black wall.
“Necessary for survival, right?” I guessed bitterly, echoing what I imagined Ethan would say.
She nodded, her expression sobering. “Precisely. Whatever doubts or fears you have right now are holding you back. The wolf inside you is waiting. You just need to reach for it.“
Her words had that same vague essence that indicated she knew something I didn't. It was the same she approached me in school with, the first time I met her. I still wasn't a fan of the suspense but I couldn't deny her words did make me feel braver.
Yet, I wanted to argue, to explain that it wasn’t as simple as reaching for it. Something inside me felt lacking, incapable of answering the call of my supposed instincts. But the weight of her gaze silenced me. Instead, I let the quiet of the night rest between us.
“Done,” Abigail stated after a few minutes, tying a fresh bandage around my arm.
“Let’s start this madness,” I said to myself.
A change of clothes later, I found myself in a stone-walled space under the mansion. It was expected for a house that big to have its secrets. Maybe it was the dark long stairway or the metal gates to the dark hallway but my apparent situation felt daunting.
I continued to clench and unclench my fists as Abigail led me further through the hallway. Beads of sweat coated my palm and I couldn't stop looking back where we walked from.
We entered the Den and I released a shaky breath at the sight of it. It was a cavernous space with vaulted ceilings. Two enormous stone pillars at the far end that reached high into the ceiling with chains dangling from them.
I paused my steps, frowning deeply at the sight. “Are those silver chains? I shrieked under my breath. Was I shifting or being tortured?
Ethan stepped from behind a pillar with stiff commanding steps. A beads of sweat rolled from my temple, betraying the calm I was desperate to fake. Each breath felt shallow, like my lungs couldn’t fill fast enough and the knots in my gut only twisted tighter.
“Ready?” he asked, planting his intensely hooded gaze on me.
“No,” I admitted weakly. My mouth was dry.
“Good,” he said flatly. “Fear sharpens the senses.”
“No, it doesn't!“ I mumbled without thinking, balling my fists.
I didn't want to do what he was asking of me. Sure the wound hurt like a bitch and it was ugly to look at but shifting felt extreme in response to it. Would it be so terrible to have such a scar?
My eyes swept through the room. Khalid lurked in the corners where the warm lights couldn't reach. I felt Tyler in the room too and Abigail had stepped back to lean against a wall. I wish they'd do something to help me.
Ethan strode toward me, his presence overwhelming. “Close your eyes,” he instructed.
“What—”
“Close them,” he repeated, his tone brooking no argument.
“And if I don't?“ I stuttered, standing my ground.