The Blood They Buried

The first sign that something was wrong with me was my temper. I had always been quick to anger. Grandma called it my “storm.” Whenever I got upset, she would tell me to breathe, count to ten, and remember that anger was temporary. That afternoon, counting to ten didn't help. Neither did breathing. “Miss Vale.” I looked up from my notebook. Mr. Harris stood beside my desk, holding my biology test between two fingers. “You want to explain this?” I glanced at the paper. A large red mark covered the top. “I answered the question.” “You answered it incorrectly.” “I know.” “Then why did you argue with me?” “I wasn't arguing.” A few students laughed. My jaw tightened. Mr. Harris sighed. “You've been distracted all week.” “I said I'm fine.” “You're clearly not.” Something about his tone irritated me. Maybe it was the way he said it. Maybe it was the headache that had been bothering me since morning. Or maybe it was the strange heat crawling underneath my skin. I rubbed my palms against my jeans. They were sweating. But I wasn't hot. The classroom was freezing. “Elara.” I looked up again. “Are you listening?” “Yes.” “Then tell me what I just said.” I opened my mouth. Nothing came out. I had no idea. A few students laughed again. My face burned. “I said I was listening.” “You're being disrespectful.” “I said I'm sorry.” The words came out sharper than I intended. Mr. Harris stared at me. “So you are capable of apologizing.” I rolled my eyes. Someone behind me snickered. I turned around. A girl named Rebecca was smiling. “What?” “Nothing.” “You're laughing.” “I didn't say anything.” “You don't have to.” She raised an eyebrow. “Maybe you're just imagining things.” Something strange happened. For a second, I could hear her heartbeat. Clearly. Thump. Thump. Thump. I blinked. The sound disappeared. I stared at her. She frowned. “What?” “Nothing.” I turned back around. My stomach tightened. That was weird. Very weird. I pressed my fingers against my temple. The headache was getting worse. Then I smelled something. Blood. I froze. Someone had cut themselves. I looked around. Nobody appeared injured. But the smell was everywhere. Metallic. Warm. Almost sweet. My mouth watered. I swallowed quickly. What was wrong with me? “Elara?” I looked at Mr. Harris. His face was slightly blurred. No. Not blurred. Too clear. I could see every line around his eyes. Every tiny mark on his skin. I could hear the faint scratching of his pen against the desk. The humming lights above us. The air conditioner. The tapping of someone's foot three rows away. I could hear all of it. At once. I covered my ears. “Can you turn that off?” Mr. Harris frowned. “Turn what off?” “The noise.” “What noise?” I looked around. Everyone was staring at me. My breathing became faster. “I need to leave.” “You can leave when class ends.” “No.” My voice shook. “I need to leave now.” A strange pressure suddenly tightened around my chest. I grabbed the edge of my desk. The room seemed to tilt. My fingers trembled. I looked down. They looked normal. For now. Then one of my fingers twitched. I pulled my hand closer. A sharp pain shot through my nail. I gasped. “What the—” The pain vanished. I stared at my finger. Nothing. Normal. I exhaled shakily. Maybe I was having some kind of panic attack. That had to be it. Stress. Lack of sleep. Too much coffee. Anything except— My heart suddenly slammed against my ribs. Once. Twice. Then again. Too fast. I could hear it. Loud enough that it sounded like someone was pounding on a door inside my chest. “Elara?” Mr. Harris stepped toward me. “Don't.” He stopped. Something inside me had changed. I could feel it. A pressure beneath my skin. A crawling sensation traveling from my fingertips toward my wrist. I squeezed my hands into fists. The sensation grew stronger. My nails hurt. I looked down again. They were longer. Just slightly. I blinked. They were normal. I rubbed my eyes. When I looked again, they had changed. Not much. But enough. The tips were pointed. Sharp. My breath caught. “No.” I shoved my hands beneath the desk. My entire body was shaking now. Someone whispered, “Is she okay?” Another voice answered, “She looks sick.” I wanted to tell them I was fine. I wanted to stand up. I wanted to run. But my body wouldn't move. Then I heard something. Not in the classroom. Inside my head. A low growl. My blood turned cold. I slowly lifted my eyes toward the window. For a moment, my reflection stared back at me. Pale face. Messy hair. Wide eyes. Then my reflection smiled. I didn't. I stumbled backward. The chair crashed onto the floor. Everyone screamed. I looked at my hands. The nails were no longer nails. They were claws. Long. Dark. Sharp enough to cut through my skin. I screamed. And something inside me screamed back. The lights exploded. The windows rattled violently. The room filled with shouting. I dropped to my knees, clutching my hands against my chest. Then I looked up. My reflection in the window had changed. My eyes were glowing gold. And behind my reflection stood a wolf. Watching me. Waiting for me to remember what I was. Then everything went black.