Into Their Woods (The Eerie, #1)

I don’t know how it’s possible for time to pass faster than the speed of light while also moving slower than a sloth taking a shit. Somehow, I experience both simultaneously. One moment I’m a woman, a vet tech on her way to a new start and new opportunities. Next, I’m a shifter, watching an unnaturally massive wolf slink out of the sheriff’s office while three other strangers, other eeries, talk among themselves about how all this is possible.

I stare down at the cup of rainbow juice that Imogen made. I don’t know that I trust her, trust any of them, but she’s right. I won’t let bullheadedness be my downfall. I survived last night. If I’m wrong about what’s in this cup or their intentions, I’ll survive that too, and then I’ll make them pay.

I reel back at that thought. Disney villain isn’t my default setting, but all of this shit has me thinking they will rue the day thoughts. I see people joke about it all the time, but maybe this really is my villain origin story.

I shake my head at myself and, without justifying it any more than I already have, I bring the cup to my lips and drain the contents. I can’t help feeling like I just swallowed either my damnation or my salvation and—whichever one it is—it tastes like sour apple.

I look into the cup when I’m done, the dregs mixing into an ugly brown that matches how I feel. I really hope I don’t see you’ve been poisoned float up through the last remaining drops like a Magic 8 Ball message of doom.

On the upside, I don’t keel over immediately. And then the chill in my veins slowly warms. The volatile rage bubbling within me cools. Finally, the pain throbbing through me disappears altogether. My vision sharpens instead of blurs, and I feel stronger, more steady. They weren’t lying, the spell didn’t hurt me.

That doesn’t mean any of them are off the hook though.

I set the cup on the desk and look up to find Ellery, his father, and Imogen steadily watching me. Ellery offers me a warm smile, but it dims when I answer back with a glare.

“You let me walk into this office and tell you all about this terrifying thing that happened to me last night, and you knew the whole time I was a shifter and it was real?” I snarl at the sheriff.

He drops his head a little and regret fills the room, as fragrant as a bouquet of roses, but the contrition floating in his eyes isn’t enough to calm the anger I feel surging.

I pull in a deep breath, worried that if I get too mad, it will trigger the black veins and the…the…shift—fuck, that’s weird to even think.

“You’re right. I should have tried to explain everything better when you first walked through the door. I was shocked. You shouldn’t have even been awake, let alone walking into my office. And then you said you’d been attacked, and I needed to know what you were talking about. It’s no excuse though. I should have handled things better. I’m sorry.”

I’m taken aback by his immediate apology and how sincere it sounds. But I’m not ready to hear it or forgive and forget. I need to revel in a little rage because what in the actual fuck just happened?

“How are you feeling?” Imogen asks, and I turn my anger on her.

“I’d be feeling better if you hadn’t magically misted me into a world of hurt,” I grumble while aiming a fiery glare at her.

She grimaces, though her regret is far less potent than Ellery’s. “I thought you needed help shifting. That spell has been foolproof in the past. We’re all just trying to help.”

I scoff. Yeah. Trying to help me right off a cliff maybe.

Undeterred by my indignation, Imogen turns and crisply starts to pack up her supplies. Somehow, all of the mortars and pestles she used are clean in an instant, ready to be stacked away in neat rows. I stare at her hands rather than make eye contact with anyone else, since I’m trying to keep my anger at a reasonable four hundred degrees Fahrenheit right now instead of melt-the-building molten lava, which my intuition is rooting for.

As she zips up her bag, she states, “You need to make sure you eat and stay hydrated. The transition is hard on shifter bodies. And the dissipation spell you just drank for your block will require energy too. You need to rest, eat, and drink as much as you can.”

I throw my head back, breathing hard as I stare at the ceiling and wonder how the hell I got here. A nap and food are the least of my problems right now.

“I know you’re mad, and you have every right to be. But no one expected you to be a naif. It took us all by surprise,” Morgan Arcan defends.

“And what the hell is a naif?” I demand, rounding on him. “You all keep using that word but haven’t bothered to explain what it means.”

Morgan Arcan nods and offers me a small smile. “Someone who doesn’t know about their origins, who doesn’t know about eerie life, but needs to.”

“And what do I need to know about eerie life?” I counter, desperate for answers.

“That it exists, first and foremost,” he answers, waving around the room. “In Howling Rapids alone, we have a variety of shifters, witch covens, vampire clans, brigades of trolls, and a donsy of gnomes.”

“What, no fairies and unicorns?” I mumble, reeling at the literal out-of-this world list.

Ellery’s lips press together, and his eyes grow worried, before he slowly says, “Unicorns are extinct.”

My eyes go wide at the insane revelation, and I slap a hand over my mouth.

I don’t know if I want to laugh or cry.

My impending breakdown chooses hysterical amusement and, despite my efforts to trap it inside, a wild laugh erupts from my lips. Everything about this situation is so far from sane that the fact that unicorns once existed is just the cherry on top.

Who knows what else exists that I never believed in…

I dig my hands into my scalp, partially to ensure my skull doesn’t explode from the shock of it all. I was attacked by wolves. It really happened, and now I’m one of them.

It took one bite for everything I’ve ever known to shift and become entirely unrecognizable. In one blink, I went from feeling like my body was going to rip apart to being told by a literal witch doctor to get lots of rest, food, and fluids—like turning into a whole-ass wolf is the same as recovering from the flu.

Pinching my arm seems too cliche, but I’m sorely tempted to do it.

“Noah?” Ellery calls, pulling me from my spiraling thoughts.

His voice makes me blink and my senses suddenly flick back onto high alert from the muted, shocked state they’d been in. I realize I’m just standing here with my head in my hands. I look up to discover Imogen’s left, and it’s just Ellery and his dad watching me like I’m a ticking time bomb.

Shit. Am I?

“I know all of this must be a lot and you probably have a million questions,” Ellery starts. “I promise to answer each and every one of them. I know we got started on the wrong foot, but from here on out, we’ll answer anything you want to know.”

He’s leaning toward me again so he’s at my eye level even though he’s still giving me space. I stare, irritated that I still think he’s handsome, and then I remember the other hot crazies from this morning. Only they’re not crazy. And I stole their fucking car.

Fuck me.

Ivy Asher, Ann Denton's books