Page 101 of Bedeviled

A cry is wrenched from her lungs, one that morphs into a howl.

In the distance, I hear a twin howl go up.

I don’t think the shifters are going to need my spell to find Sybil after all.

Next to me, Sybil’s fingernails elongate, and her limbs begin to shorten and bend.

I am so close to shitting myself.

Goddess, she’s beginning to shift.

But just when it seems as though the transformation is truly underway, her claws revert to nails once more, and her forelegs return to looking like arms.

My friend collapses on the ground, panting heavily, her body soaked in sweat. I move closer to her, brushing away the sticks and leaves that cling to her body.

Sybil came out here with nothing. No blanket, no water. My heart lurches, and I try not to tear up.

Reaching into my small bag, I remove one of the larger vials inside it.

“Sybil, all I have is holy water,” I say, lifting the vial to show her, “but if you’re thirsty, you can drink it.” It’s not nearly enough liquid to replenish what she’s sweated away, but it’s better than nothing.

She nods, taking it with a shaky hand. She sits back on her haunches, completely at ease with her nudity now.

Her limbs are still trembling, almost violently so, and her eyes are bleary. She uncorks the vial. “Not going to ask about why you’re carrying this.”

I shrug off my coat.

“What in the Anne Bonny pirate queen are you wearing?” she asks, eyeing the daggers she can now see strapped to my sides. “You planning on knifing me today?” She says the words lightly enough, but there’s a gravelly undertone to them, like her throat keeps wanting to shift.

“That’s a chat for another time,” I say.

I lay my jacket out on the ground, suppressing a shiver. “Lie on this.”

“I’m fine.”

I give her a look, and she huffs.

“So bossy—” Another ripple rushes through her limbs, and she pinches her eyes shut, her throat working like she’s trying to stop herself from retching.

A chorus of howls goes up, much, much closer this time. Now is when I should leave. But I can’t bring myself to walk away from Sybil, not when she appears so sick.

From the darkness, I sense something approaching, and when I glance into the woods, I see my pale orange orb of light bob toward me.

Beyond it… My hackles rise.

Lycanthrope.

I barely make out the large, furred shape before the wolf rushes forward, toward Sybil, who whimpers as its fur grazes her bare skin.

My heart thunders from where I kneel next to her, instinct screaming at me to get to my feet. But the wolf merely licks her arm, then rubs its cheek against hers.

When it lifts its head, I meet its icy-blue gaze.

Kane.

He stares at me for another long second before shifting. Despite how long and drawn-out Sybil’s transformation appears to be taking, it happens for Kane within a matter of seconds.

Where a moment ago a wolf stood, now a human kneels. Kane’s back ripples, like it’s protesting the shift, and he rises to his feet, staggeringly tall and distractingly naked.