A Wolf Steps in Blood

by Tamara Jerée

“You’re not affected by magic. You are magic.”

I think endangered, I think extirpated, I think extinct.

I feel the weight and fear of those words in my body. I feel like the brittle remains of a whole creature, bones left...

Faced with the doubts of my pack, it’s the first time I’ve seen Kalta shrink. Her hurt seeps into my chest like blood pooling from a fresh wound, triggering the wolf’s instincts. Protect. Protect.

My mouth feels sharp. “Let her speak!” I snarl.

I stay with Kalta despite her insistence that I join the hunt, that she can keep her own company for a few hours. The pack runs, and the night goes quiet without them.

An ache burrows in my chest. My wolf isn’t lost like Mom’s, but maybe it’d be fairer if our fates were reversed. If I can’t figure out how to be a wolf or a woman, better for our blessing to go to someone who understands our past and is invested in our future, someone like Mom.

I’m no asset in a hunt, but I’ve never missed a run with my pack. Kalta must feel my indecision. “It’s not too late to catch up,” she says gently. “I want to stay with you.”

And the wolf, the wolf—

The wolf is restless—dangerous hands clenched in the sheets, dangerous mouth at Kalta’s throat.

Kalta takes my hand away, laces our fingers. “You’re perfect,” she says. “You can’t hurt me.” “But . . .” “Do you want to stop?” Never. “No,” I say, eventually.

She traces the point of a fang with her fingertip. “Beautiful,” she breathes. The moment stretches. The wolf catalogs her face again and again, recommits her scent to memory, savors the taste of her skin. A wicked grin lights her face. She pushes me down and climbs on top of me. “I’m curious about this mouth,” she says, blinking innocently. “Won’t you indulge me?” I could never deny her anything.

“When I was talking with your mom . . .” She pinches one of my braids, studying it as she runs her fingers down its length. “It’s obvious she’s worried about the way you struggle with yourself.” “The way I struggle,” I repeat flatly.

The wolf dreams of the hunt. She is thin and hungry, but she will run until dawn if she must.

Not a dream. She is so used to only being free to run in dreams. This night air is real. The mud beneath her paws, real. Even better. She will not let her other half continue to starve them. She dreamed of blood in her mouth, and she will have it.

Screaming jolts me awake. Cold dawn. Skin sticky with blood. Tang of raw flesh on my tongue.

Too full. I vomit, not out of fear of my body but because the wolf, desperate and overeager, gorged us sick. Blood and viscera spew from my mouth. The woman screams again.

What girl is capable of something like this?

The wolf doesn’t push forward. She knows well enough not to shift us when people are present. In fact, she likely panicked and shoved me forward when she realized she was about to be caught.

Where where where? Yasmine where where where?

I fall. I sob. I scream. The ragged cry in my chest is unrecognizable, both animal and human.

Mom sighs relief, and Shiara looks—hurt? The expression on her is unfamiliar, a flicker of tension around her eyes, there and gone. She doesn’t look at Mom.

As soon as I shut off the tap, I apply more toothpaste to the brush and try again. I spit, and instead of white foam, blood spatters into the sink, fresh and red. “Yasmine?” I startle. Kalta stands in the bathroom doorway. Her gaze meets mine in the mirror. I glance back to the sink and find the blood gone.

“You’ve been brushing your teeth for, like, fifteen minutes,” she says gently. Her frown deepens. “We need to get out of here.”

Oh, I have definitely brushed that long on accident, too!!

“I killed all of them,” I whisper, piecing my memory and the wolf’s together. “The wolf has never binged.” “But you do.” Kalta says it without judgment, and I still want to hide from her. “The wolf is you, Yasmine.” I don’t realize I’m trembling until Kalta rests a hand atop mine on the counter. “I want to help. Is that okay?” she asks.

I feel the wolf again when Kalta massages shampoo into my scalp, finger combing out the kinks and curls.

My fear of the wolf will cost me the life I’ve had, one that I didn’t even want, but at least it was familiar and safe and predictable. Shame and fear tangle in my empty stomach. The wolf was just trying to survive, and I was starving her. Us.

At least I didn’t endanger the entire pack by exposing our secret, but without the wolf-driven-mad-hungry-by-twentysomething- with-an-eating-disorder explanation, I look like a disturbed murderer.

Even if I’m going to be a fugitive, I want to keep my hair. I’ve been growing it out natural since seventh grade, and like hell I’m going to lose all that progress.

At this point, Shiara’s done my hair more than Mom has. I trust her. Her braids are art, and I was often the envy of the other schoolgirls. If not for Shiara’s reputation, I’m sure I would’ve received dozens of requests for introductions.

I say, “I’m scared.” “What wolf isn’t?” I stare ahead at where Shiara’s punched a hole in the wall. “You’re scared too?” “I’m a wolf, aren’t I?”

“I don’t know a lot of people who are always covered in their own blood like that.” I take a breath, ready to defend Kalta, but Shiara only adds, “Take care of her,” the words uncharacteristically soft.

I don’t know how to live in a body.

“And we probably needed to hit the road anyway. Prophecies rarely happen at home.”

Her verbal affection is guarded and her love often tucked away in bitterness. She is never worried for me. I am a useless girl. She is very worried for me because I am a useless girl. She worries. I think she means, I’m glad Yasmine will have you because I worry for Yasmine.

She winks. “Most of blood magic is just vibes. It’s all about communing with the self as my brother’s spellbook puts it.”

WOW!!! XD XD XD That is great!!

I want to tuck my tail and crawl back into bed and hide behind Kalta’s ward forever, but when I look to her at my side, I think of equaling her storm.

“Y’all are going to leave here immediately,” she says, “hand in your badges, reflect on your lives, and forget you ever saw us. You’ve had an epiphany. A sudden change of heart. You will not pursue us.” “Yes, ma’am,” both answer.

Good!! Two less cops is always stellar!!

Too much noise. Too much commotion. The wolf wants out.

Fear launches the wolf forward. Action, instinct. Protect. I wedge myself between Kalta and the wheel, righting our course and going for the brakes. My true eyes detect a flash of brown at the tree line, an animal darting toward us.

The road is deserted but for us and a doe.

This is the second instance of a deer / doe appearing after Kalta uses her magic. I feel as if they have some sort of effect on her healing, or have something to do with the coven / nature in general?

She smells like dew and pine and soft animal musk.

So...similar to Kalta?

Trust the magic.

The doe trots back into the trees, and I ease the truck off the road, following her into the woods.

This is definitely like following a fairy into the Otherworld.

The wolf dreams of the hunt—and I wrest it from her.

If this ends with "I dream of the hunt," I shall feel so smart.

Take me instead. I am just as soft and more useless. See how I lie down without a fight? The wolf stands over me, her form blotting out the sky and starlight. She is thin and hungry, and she doesn’t recognize me. Her teeth flash for my neck. It happens in slow motion, and my body doesn’t even care enough to reflexively protect me, to raise my arms or curl my soft parts away.

I find I can’t take a breath, my throat ripped open as it is.

“I’m sorry, Yasmine. I’m sorry that I’m not the witch you deserve.” I was wrong before. Kalta doesn’t know how to live in a body. Neither of us do.

“I slaughtered an entire herd of goats because I don’t know how to feed myself,”

If I weren’t such a disaster, maybe you could’...