Shift

The Shift

Scarlet couldn't move. Her bones throbbed, her muscles were tight and rigid. She pressed her back against the tree, staring at Peter's outstretched hand.

"Peter," she said. "Peter Lowell?"

"So, you have heard of me," he said.

"You're the one who..." A high-pitched squeal erupted in her head. She heard the sound of her heart beating as if it were cymbals clanging next to her ears.

"Don't waste your breath," Peter said. His voice was loud and excited. He cackled for a moment before speaking again. "This is going to hurt like hell, sweetheart, but you'll love it. Stand up."

"Screw you," Scarlet said. The screeching gave way to more of a humming, and her skin started to itch all over. "You killed them!"

"No, come on. You know that's not true." Peter removed his shirt and clapped his hands as he looked up at the moon, bouncing on his toes. "I was busy with you."

She choked on a wave of nausea. "They were your friends, then. It's still your fault."

"Fair enough," he said. "I apologize."

"What do you want from me?"

"I wouldn't dream of missing your first shift."

Scarlet's head was spinning. A thunderstorm roared in her mind, the crackling of lightning and rolling thunder, the hard downpour of rain. She screamed, her hands clapping against her ears.

She felt warm, calloused hands grip her wrists. When she opened her eyes, Peter was crouched before her, smiling sideways, those sinister golden-green eyes gleaming back at her.

"Inhale," Peter said. His voice was low and soothing. "Exhale."

She tried to pull away from him. She stumbled, and he caught her by the arms again. A bone in her foot cracked loudly, and she cried out.

"Stand up!" said Peter. He pulled her to her feet. "Take those off." He gestured to the jeans she wore.

"No," Scarlet whimpered.

"Trust me," Peter said, "just do it. The shirt, too."

She looked up to see his pants dropping to the ground. She sighed, admitting defeat. The denim had been rubbing her the wrong way for hours. She peeled them off and piled them onto the ground with her tank top.

"Agh!" Scarlet screamed again. Her back contorted and arched, and she dropped to her hands and knees.

Peter stood next to her, humming something peaceful, though she couldn't decipher any words. Her stomach twisted and churned, and sweat continued to pour from her forehead, her armpits, between her breasts. Her legs shook as she coughed and cried, the pain engulfing her whole body.

"Help me," she said.

Peter's hand danced through her hair. "It'll be over soon, don't fight it."

"Make it stop," she said, "please!"

Scarlet's ribs began to crack and break, and she cried out in pain. Tears gushed from her eyes, and she began to vomit.

Peter grabbed her by the arm and lifted her back up to stand on her feet. The full moon peeked through the treetops there, and Scarlet squinted up at it. Peter grinned next to her, basking in the pale, white light.

"Be strong," Peter said.

Scarlet's legs gave out again and she fell back down to the ground. Her fingers, all ten of them, broke in unison, a scream shredding through her throat as they did. She sniffled and coughed, her face soaked in tears, snot dripping from her nose. And then, she felt the rage. It boiled inside of her, scrunching her face into an expression of sheer, malevolent anger.

She howled as her shoulders snapped and crunched. The bones in her legs crumbled and her head felt like it might burst open, split right down the middle. All the while, Peter stood next to her, petting her hair, shushing her like she was a fussing baby. She heaved and panted, wishing he would shut up or disappear. He'd done this to her, and now he was telling her to be quiet? Peter really was a monster.

Her skin began to split apart, blood bursting from the deep tears in her arms and chest. She choked and cried and gagged as everything she was fell away in ribbons of flesh into puddles of blood. A searing pain roared through her veins, burning every inch of her body. The crying had stopped, replaced by a fury she'd never felt before.

What came next was unexpected. Just when Scarlet thought she couldn't take it another second, just when she thought she might die of agony alone, it happened. She was enveloped in relief, overcome with a feeling of pure euphoria. Replacing the grief and pain and terror were feelings of curiosity, excitement, and incredible strength. Scarlet felt powerful, strong, and resilient; like she could take on the world.

The wolf, all shades of gray with glossy amber eyes, stood panting, tongue lolling. True freedom, for the first time.

A half-mile away, a young doe nibbled on long blades of grass in a foggy clearing. Scarlet heard each breath the deer took; each crunch and gulp of the grass being eaten. She heard every cricket, smelled every insect, every patch of dirt and drop of water. She could taste the night in the air, all wet and sweet and dark.

In an instant, Peter was on all fours next to her, covered in a thick black coat of his own. He'd shifted so quickly, so effortlessly, that Scarlet hadn't even noticed. They sniffed at each other for a moment before moving on, following the scent of the deer, and hunting the beast together.