The Night Has Claws (Book Two) EXCERPTS ONLY

A. FORMIDABLE

“He alone to whom creation belongs can change the form of things. And it would be a shameful thing for a man, to whom all the beasts of the earth are subject, to be clothed in the form of a beast.”
— Henri Boguet, Discours des Sorciers, translated into English as An Examen of Witches by E. Allen Ashwin

Formidable: adjective. Inspiring fear or respect through being impressively large, powerful, intense or capable.

I swallow down even the idea of crying. One day I might drown in all the misery I’ve had to push down since I was bitten, but not today. Not when there’s a horrible corpse bleeding at my feet. I let out a weird noise at the sight of Boadicea’s body. Killing her wasn’t part of the plan.

Connor puts his hand on my shoulder and I wish I had a little bottle labeled “drink me” so I could just shrink into oblivion like Alice in Wonderland. It’s unfair. All of it. We turned his life upside-down and now he’s throwing me this pity party.

“Don’t make this harder than it needs to be,” I say and instantly regret the cliché.

I can’t even look at him because I’ll flake out if I do. There’s no time for him to stick around and feel sorry for me. No time for long goodbyes like in a movie. He needs to walk away so I can finish my job, and he can tell the pack about whatever just went down.

His hand slides away, fingertips pulling down against the sleeve of my hoodie like waves at low tide sucking back the shore, and I wish a piece of me could be carried off with him. A good cry is what I need at this exact moment. I would totally love to just scream ― the way I used to when I was six years old for the sake of no reason at all ― until my throat gets hoarse enough that it kills. The way strep throat feels, all scratchy and hurty and too mind-numbingly painful to even breathe. That’s what I want, desperately. That’s what I need more than anything. Then the tears could just flow as freely and naturally as breathing. But I can’t do that right now because of him.

My voice is barely functional when I say “I’m sorry” to no one in particular. I dig into the soil of the withered flowerbed with my bare hands while trying not to look at her. In a painting she’d look fab: pale skin, strawberry blonde hair spread out like a fan, nude chiffon blouse all airy and frou-frou. Up close and personal it’s a different story. The blood is the worst part of it, not seeping enough into the dry earth, so it’s pooling beneath her body. I try to work fast.

Grit builds beneath my fingernails. I can’t see it underneath my polish — a dark but sparkly shade of purple that I picked more for the name than anything, Formidable!, as if a coat of toxic lacquer could give me superpowers — but I feel the dirt there. That’s not exactly even relevant right now. I should say something else so he doesn’t think I’m a completely heartless B.

“You don’t know what they’re capable of,” I say without looking up, reminding him of that scientist Henri Boguet and his henchmen.

He doesn’t answer. He must hate me. He has to think I’m a monster. I glance back to gauge the look on his face but he’s gone. Screw him! It’s not like I meant for it to happen. This meeting had all the makings of a trap. As if I was supposed to know she grew a conscience!

I do my best to cover the body. Seconds or minutes or even an hour goes by, but then I feel his hand on my shoulder again and relief washes over me. I turn expecting to see his brown eyes and mess of chestnut hair but instead it’s blue-eyed Josh. The disappointment on my face is something he should be used to by now but it’s like he keeps expecting me to somehow un-remember what he did to me.

Josh glances between me and the mound of earth, and he can’t hide his disbelief. Sitting back on my heels I’ll admit it’s pathetic. Even in the faded light I can see her outline beneath the dirt, looking like a kid on a beach who asked to be covered in sand. It won’t fool anybody but he doesn’t have to point out with his disapproving look how ridiculous I am. Before he can say anything I come to my own defense.