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I leaned and glanced through the doorway.
A mangled body curled on the floor among shreds of clothes. Deformed or battered, it lay crumpled in a grotesque heap of mismatched limbs, a patchwork of raw beef, red and mud-brown. Another hoarse breath sent tiny echoes scurrying into the corners. Julie was nowhere in sight.
As I stood there, the body turned its head. I saw a clump of blond hair and a single blue eye, the other hidden by a flap of flesh.
Andrea.
I closed the distance between us in a single leap. The dirty patches on her limbs weren’t grime. They were fur. Short brown fur, with traces of spots dappling the skin.
Her chest was misshapen, too flat. The skin on her stomach ended abruptly, not torn or cut, but simply falling too short of its goal, as if there wasn’t enough of it. The coils of her intestines glistened through the opening. Her left leg melted into a paw, while her right stretched too long, twisting backward. Her jaws protruded, mismatched, her lips way too short, her fangs puncturing her cheeks.
Dear God. The Lyc-V got her after all.
Andrea’s left eye focused on me, her iris baby-blue. A long gurgling sound broke free of her throat.
“Heeeeelp.”
This was beyond me. I’ve never seen a shapeshifter stuck between forms.
I had to find someone who could help her. Doolittle. But he was back at the Pack Keep. It would take me hours to reach it. Her skin had taken on a sallow, pale gray tint that meant the shapeshifter’s body was scraping the last of its reserves dry. Andrea might not have hours.
Wait. Doolittle was loyal to Curran. He’d give her up in a minute. And then the Pack would test her to ensure she wasn’t a loup and then she would have to confront Curran. You can’t be loyal to Curran and the Order at the same time. The second her shapeshifter status was discovered, she’d be expelled from the Order. Andrea lived and breathed the Order. I might as well let her die.
But if I did nothing, she would die, as well.
Doolittle was out. So was Derek. Who could I take her to?
A tremor ran through Andrea’s limbs. Her right foot stretched. Bones crept forward with agonizing slowness. She moaned, her voice charged with so much pain, it sent my heart hammering. Her stomach contracted, her buttocks tightened, and then the convulsion was over and she slumped back onto the floor.
A distinct acrid stench spread through the room. I’ve smelled it before. A hyena.
The Keep was shared by all shapeshifters, but each clan had its own gathering place, just as each clan had its own pair of alphas. The hyenas had to have their own spot. They weren’t nearly as numerous as wolves or rats, but there were enough of them to form their own little pack. I’ve met their leader—an older woman called Aunt B. I’d rather fight a wolf pack than cross her. She had a bun on her head and a sweet smile, and I was sure she’d be smiling just as sweetly when she tickled my liver with her claws.