“So tell me,” I said. “Where were you last night?”

A FULL SIXTY SECONDS OF SILENCE LATER

The longer Daniel went without speaking, the more my muscles tensed. I could feel that familiar aching inside of me—like I did when I knew something was wrong. It was that same feeling that made me want to fight or run.

Daniel tugged at my grasp on his hand. I was squeezing it tighter than I realized. His fingertips were bright red.

I let go of his hand. I felt a rush of guilt as he rubbed his fingers and then the bandage on his forearm. I was sure I’d aggravated the pain of his stitches. But that guilt edged into anger. Why should you feel guilty when he’s the one in the wrong? a foreign voice said inside my mind. I shook myself. I don’t know why I’d even thought that. There was no excuse for causing someone pain.

“Why won’t you tell me where you were last night?” I asked. “It should be a simple question.”

Daniel scratched behind his ear and looked off into the twilight that surrounded us now. “I said it already. I was here. Watching TV.”

He’s lying, said that foreign voice inside my head. You lied to the cops for him, and he pays you back with more lies.

I took a step back. Why was I hearing a voice inside my head that didn’t even sound like my own? But it pointed out the blaring truth.

“I just lied to the cops for you, Daniel. Don’t you think you owe me an explanation as to why I needed to?”

“I never asked you to lie.” Daniel shoved his hands in his pockets. It was like he didn’t know what to do with his twitching fingers. “I don’t owe you anything.”

“You don’t?” My voice cracked with anger. “After all we’ve been through?” After everything you’ve done for him! that voice said. “I saved your damned soul—quite literally—and you think you don’t owe me a simple explanation as to where you were last night? What the hell were you doing?”

“That’s not what I meant.” Daniel dropped his shoulders and looked up at the sky. “I just … can’t.”

“Can’t what? Tell me? Trust me?” I practically shouted at him. It was like I couldn’t control the volume of my voice.

“Please, Gracie. Just be patient with me. I need you to stay out of it. Give me some space.”

“Some space?” Fire burned under my skin. I shook with anger and surging power. Something was wrong. Most definitely wrong. Fight or Flight, that voice whispered inside my head. But a small, rational part of my brain didn’t want to lash out at Daniel, so I did what felt like second nature to me now. “Have all the space you want,” I said, and ran.

“Wait, Gracie!” Daniel shouted as I bolted down the driveway. “Damn it, that’s not what I meant.”

But I kept running—even when I heard the roar of Daniel’s motorcycle behind me. I picked up my speed. He shouted my name, told me to stop. But I couldn’t. Power seeped into every cell of my body, pushing me faster. Daniel pulled up beside me on his motorcycle. I could hear him calling me, but I veered up onto the curb and cut through several yards and weaved in between houses where he couldn’t follow.

And even though I knew I’d shaken Daniel, I didn’t slow down. The crescent-shaped scar on my arm flared like crazy. I picked up my already sprinting pace. I ran faster now than I could have ever dreamed of only a few months before. But I willed myself to go even faster.

My legs screamed for more speed.

I needed it.

Craved it.

My feet picked up momentum like lightning under me. The night was dark now, but as the blood pulsed into my face, I felt a burning pressure behind my eyes. I blinked and suddenly my vision was clearer, sharper, almost as if the night had brightened. I could see just as well as if it were dusk on a cloudy day.

But the thing was, I didn’t need to see. My feet knew where to go on instinct. They landed in just the right places, narrowly missing the cracks and potholes in the uneven streets. They found the easiest path between the headstones and overgrown bushes in the graveyard on Faraway Boulevard. And with every lightning-quick step, the pain and anger inside of me melted away, replaced by a feeling of sheer exhilaration.

Freedom.

Abandon.

Like how I’d felt the first time I ran with Daniel in the forest. Back when he was the one who had to pull me along. Back when I was only human. It had felt wonderful then … like nothing I’d known before. But this was so much more than that. Not merely energy transferred from someone else. This came from inside of me. This was my power. And no one could take it away from me.

I tilted my head back, taking in the glow of the glistening sliver of a moon rising in the night sky as I ran, and let that feeling of power wash through me. Tingling warmth spread up my arms and legs and into my chest. You’re in control now, that foreign voice reassured me as I ran.

I’d finally broken through the barrier.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Stranger

AN HOUR LATER

The moon peeked over the steeple of the parish as I sprinted down Crescent Street. It was a Sunday, and a school night, and most of Rose Crest had gone to bed. I’d passed only a couple of cars on the street, and the parking lot for the school and the parish was empty. It felt exhilarating to have gone so far, done so much, while most of the town was tucked in bed at home. And I still couldn’t believe that I’d run full tilt for so long, using all my powers at the same time without losing my grip on them. Part of me wanted to go back to Daniel’s—tell him the good news, see the look of pride on his face. But then I remembered why I’d started running in the first place, and my heart sank with sorrow.

I slowed my pace to a jog. I had only a few more blocks until home, and I wanted to cool down. But then I noticed something strange about the parish as I went past: the lights were on.

It was late, and Dad was still out of town. I knew it was possible that the lights had been left on at some point over the weekend, but a feeling—kind of like an extra sense—told me that someone, or something, was inside the building.

But who would be in there at this hour?

My thoughts immediately went to what happened at the market, the report about the attempted break-in at the school, and Daniel’s speculation that Jude was revisiting the places of his past misdeeds. First Maryanne’s house, James’s window, Day’s Market, and then the school. Wouldn’t the logical next place be the parish—the final place he’d go? The place where he’d ultimately turned into a werewolf, the place where he’d attacked me, infected me, and where he’d tried to kill Daniel?