“I’m not good at being a human,” I explain, crunching a dead leaf under my feet as I take a step closer to the sidewalk bench. “I’ve been practicing, but I’m amateur at best. Humans, they’re… close to what I am, but I can’t avoid making them nervous around me.”
Big Ben chimes the late hour several blocks away.
Zmey Gorynych stalked through the golden halls of Catherine Palace. Fire burned beneath his skin, and his long fingers curved into talons. He could not tarry in his mission—his true, powerful form yearned to be unleashed. Now that he was no longer tethered to humanity by Alyona’s soft words, her gentle kisses,
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Huey pulled at his shirt collar as sweat ran into his golden-brown eyes. He didn’t know how much of this stifling darkness he could take.
Zip.
Huey, god of mischief, inhaled fresh air as Tema opened her suitcase. “Hiya, best friend,” he greeted her. Tema shrieked.
“Huey!” She slapped his arm repeatedly.
The world swayed around me like the ocean waves, but I couldn’t feel the water’s calming caress. Pain pounded in my left temple. My eyes refused to focus. I tried to swim, yet I couldn’t lower my arms from over my head. And my tail… where was my tail?
I wiggled my toes…
Still in coyote form, Huey’s paws landed on the grass of Tema’s garden. He turned back into a man and collapsed to the ground, panting heavily. The giant’s cries of “Stop, thief!” had echoed all the way up the Stairway to Heaven, but Huey was safe now.
Safe with his treasure.
“Ow! Huey moaned.
“Jimena has to have run through here,” Gabriel grumbled to himself, pulling his sarape tighter. Waving his lantern, he stomped his way through the evergreen forest of Sierra de San Pedro Mártir. The light cast shadows blacker than night.
He huffed and shoved the branches out of his way, the pine smell suffocating him.
The world turns cold, leaving me drained and human. I lay in a patch of mud, my head pounding. A parting gift from the transformation. I lift a hand to rub my temples, and the glitter of my chipped nail polish catches weak starlight.
The tattered remains of a dirty yellow sweater cling
I’m sunning myself on a rock when I hear the shuffle of human feet rubbing against dirt. I swivel my head, and my tongue flickers in and out, detecting sweat, cinnamon, and the heady tang of the flowering bidya that Mamua planted just for me by the front of her hut.
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I grip Flor’s clammy arms and hoist her onto my back. Crouching low, I pass rows of straw cottages and head for the gloomy thicket. Flor presses a feverish cheek against the nape of my neck and sighs, her breath sweetened with nopal. Mamá must have coaxed some fried cactus down her throat
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My scalpel taps against the shapeshifter’s eggshell but doesn’t crack the surface as expected. I press harder, but the blade slides down the surface, piercing the table with a thump.
Could my researchers have grabbed something else instead of the eggs?
No, I’d seen the mother. She swiftly switched from bird, to monkey
“Prince Heltor gave you a pet?”
“Quinn is a noble steed,” Brix corrected.
“That mutated deer is a noble steed?” Moxly lifted a brow. “You got punished, didn’t you?”
“Firstly, Quinn is a dragon not a deer.”
“Explains the scales, but not the antlers.”
“Secondly, it’s an honor to have her.” Brix lifted his chin
“Remember, Scarlet, you’re a predator. The alpha. Responsible for protecting your territory.”
I grip my axe tighter and squeeze my eyes shut, fully centered on the low rumble of Rufus’s voice.
“A successful Guardian strikes first. So no threat reaches your pack. Now…” His footsteps pad away. “Strike!”
My eyes fly open, and I hurl
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