Cry Wolf by Greta Stone

Author:Greta Stone [Stone, Greta]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Blackgate Publishing
Published: 2018-06-08T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

Peter felt no pain as his glamour reshaped him as a shark. He parted the water’s surface with the nose dive, and his body cut through the liquid like a steel submarine. Similar to the way a bird pushed air around its wings, Peter’s tail pushed water beneath his belly. His pectoral fins lent him the balance that he needed to coast smoothly. Resistance melted against his powerful frame, and he opened his mouth to let the water flow in and feed his gills with crisp oxygen.

His mind was blank, and yet he felt driven by purpose. He caught a piece of dead wood between his maw, crushed it on impact, and then followed an electric current like a homing device through the chaotic waters roaring overhead. Sharks had poor eyesight. A rock appeared in his path, and he swerved but not fast enough. The rock’s knotted side scratched the hide behind his second dorsal fin, and ribbons of black blood spilled into the water.

The current drew him downward, toward the pool’s depths. He flared his nostrils with annoyance and circled in a spiral until the nymph appeared in his path. Her olive hair clouded her limp body like a sandstorm. Her fingers tangled in her headpiece as her arms drifted upward.

The world pounded into and out of focus. He opened his jaws, ready to tear her in half. Almost too late, he remembered that he wasn’t allowed to hurt her and veered. His right flank hit a nearby rock, and blood fumed from his gills. And suddenly, he became very aware of his limited mobility; he had no neck, no arms, no hands, and no feet. He shook his massive head, trying to fix the spinning world as gravity pulled him to the bottom of the river.

He blinked at the sight of his arms and legs. He didn’t feel the transformation. He wasn’t even aware it was happening, but he was a man again. He hurried to the realization that he could still breathe under water and slapped his hand over the slits on his neck. Spikes of adrenaline seared his body, and he cringed and jerked his hand from the gills. What the fuck is going on?

His mind flashed an image of the black fox with nine tails, and this time the demon wasn’t alone. The shark lay next to the fox on the muddy lagoon floor. It had a dark gray streak down its back, a white underbelly, and a caudal fin that was much longer than most of its kind. If Peter remembered correctly, it was a bull shark; Zambi, as she was known in Southern Africa. I haven’t seen this shark since the Discovery Channel in third grade.

Peter blinked and the image faded away, but he could feel the animals inside of him. They would always be there. He wasn’t sure how he knew that, he just did. He didn’t over think it. Survival was more important than understanding his curious situation.

He detected blood in the water, and his heart quickened as if the shark’s voracious drive lingered.

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