Chapter 16 CHAPTER 16
The scream ripped through the silence.
Isabel’s keys hit the floor as she shoved open the door. Her apron was still around her waist, shoes wet from the drizzle outside, but all she saw was Cindy on the floor - half off the thin mattress, body twisting, fists clawing at the air.
“Cindy!” Isabel dropped beside her. Heat radiated from Cindy’s skin, wild and furious, and faint red streaks glowed along her arms like lightning trapped beneath the surface.
Isabel grabbed her phone, “Stay still for a bit, I’ll call for help.”
“Don’t …” Cindy’s voice broke. “Don’t call anyone…no hospital…”
“What are you talking about?” Isabel’s own voice shook. “You’re burning up, you - God, you’re going to cook yourself alive!”
Cindy’s hand shot out and caught her wrist. Even trembling, her grip was iron. “Please,” she gasped. “They can’t help me.”
Isabel froze, the phone halfway open, heart hammering against her ribs. She stared at the marks crawling across Cindy’s collarbone, at the sheen of sweat, at eyes gone too bright to be natural. “Then what am I supposed to do?”
“Just… stay.”
So she stayed. Kneeling on the splintered boards, she fanned Cindy’s face with her hand, whispering words she didn’t even understand, comfort, prayer, anything. Outside, rain hissed against the window. The minutes stretched, each one filled with ragged breathing and the faint crackle of heat that seemed to lift from Cindy’s skin.
Then, as quickly as it had come, the storm inside her subsided. Cindy sagged back onto the mattress, chest rising and falling in shallow rhythm.
Isabel collapsed onto her heels, shaking. “You scared me half to death.”
“I’m sorry,” Cindy whispered. Her voice was hoarse, threadbare. “It happens sometimes. I didn’t mean for you to see.”
“See?” Isabel’s laugh came out half-hysterical. “I didn’t just see, I nearly watched you catch fire! You have burns, look at you!”
“They’ll fade.”
“They’ll…” Isabel bit down on the rest of it. She got up, grabbed the chipped glass from the counter, filled it with tap water, and returned. The little apartment felt even smaller now, every wall pressing in with questions.
“Here,” she said, pressing the glass into Cindy’s hands. Water sloshed onto the blanket.
Cindy drank slowly, still trembling.
When the silence stretched too long, Isabel dragged the old stool close and sat on it, elbows on her knees, eyes blazing. “All right,” she said. “You’re going to tell me what that was. Because I’ve let you stay here almost a week, and so far you’ve turned into - whatever that thing was behind the café - and now you’re screaming and glowing on my floor.” Her voice cracked. “I need to know if I’m living with something dangerous.”
Cindy set the glass down carefully. “It’s something that couldn’t be stopped,” she said. “But it’s over now.”
“Over?” Isabel stood, pacing the few feet between wall and window. “You keep saying that. You nearly burned yourself alive! And you are calm like this is a nosebleed?”
Cindy closed her eyes. “I don’t expect you to understand.”
“Try me!” Isabel’s hands flew up. “I just watched a human torch in my apartment. You owe me some kind of explanation!”
Cindy hesitated. Then, softly, “Let me ask first.”
“Ask who?”
Cindy’s gaze unfocused, turned inward. Isabel frowned. “Cindy?”
“Lisa,” Cindy murmured. Lisa, should I tell her?
For a beat the only sound was the rain. Then Cindy whispered, “Are you sure?”
“Sure about what?” Isabel asked.
Cindy blinked, startled. “I’m not talking to you.”
“Well, who else is there?” Isabel’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Don’t mess with me, there’s no one here.”
“There is,” Cindy said quietly. “That’s the truth I have to tell you. It’s not just the two of us.”
The words turned Isabel’s blood cold. She stood, scanning the shadows. “What do you mean not just us? Is there someone here?” She darted toward the kitchenette, pulling the curtain aside as if expecting a man to be crouched there. “Cindy, if someone followed you…”
“No!” Cindy half-laughed, half-winced at the panic in Isabel’s eyes. “It’s nothing like that. There’s no one hiding.”
Isabel turned back slowly, still clutching the curtain. “Then what is it? You’re scaring me.”
Cindy drew in a shaky breath. “Have you ever heard about… shifters?”
Isabel blinked. “Like job shifts?”
“No.” Cindy managed a small smile despite her exhaustion. “Like people who can turn into something else.”
Isabel stared, waiting for the punch line. “Turn into…. what, exactly?”
Cindy’s fingers traced the rim of the glass. “Some people aren’t exactly human,” she said softly. “But they’re not monsters either. They carry another soul inside them. Two beings sharing one body.”
Isabel gave a nervous laugh. “That sounds like possession.”
“It’s not. It’s… coexistence.”
“Right.” Isabel’s arms folded tight across her chest. “You’re telling me you’ve got, what, a roommate living under your skin?”
Cindy nodded faintly.
The laughter died from Isabel’s face. “You’re serious.”
Cindy’s eyes lifted to meet hers. “Have you heard of vampires? Witches? Things that hide in stories because it’s easier than believing they’re real?”
“I’ve read books,” Isabel said slowly. “And movies.”
“They exist.”
Isabel’s breath caught. “You mean… wait, are you saying you’re one of them? What are you, a witch? A vampire?”
“No.”
“Then what?”
Cindy hesitated. “Have you heard of werewolves?”
Isabel’s nervous laugh returned, too loud for the tiny room. “You’re joking. Please tell me you’re joking.”
Cindy didn’t smile. “I wish I were.”
The stool creaked as Isabel shifted back, eyes wide. “Werewolves are fairy-tale stuff, Cindy. People don’t actually….”
“I do.”
The quiet between them seemed to thicken, humming like the air before lightning.
Isabel’s mouth worked soundlessly. “The other person you said was here…”
Cindy nodded. “She’s not a person. She’s a wolf. My wolf. Her name is Lisa.”
Isabel’s gaze flicked around the room again, half-expecting fur to materialize from the shadows. “You’re saying your wolf is in this room?”
“In here.” Cindy touched her chest. “In me. I talk to her. Sometimes she talks back.”
Isabel pressed a trembling hand to her forehead. “You’ve officially lost me.”
“I know how it sounds,” Cindy said gently. “But that night behind the café… what you saw wasn’t a monster. It was her. Half of me. The part I usually hide.”
Silence held them both. The rain had stopped; only the drip from the gutter punctuated the stillness. Isabel’s eyes searched Cindy’s face, as if looking for the lie that would make everything simple again. None came.
Finally, Isabel whispered, “So when you were screaming tonight…?”
“It was because of the bond,” Cindy said, almost to herself. “Something that ties me to another. When it burns, I burn with it.”
“Another…. like another werewolf?”
Cindy nodded, “Yes, my mate.”
Isabel sank down onto the mattress beside her, the stool forgotten. “I don’t know what’s worse,” she said faintly. “That you’re serious, or that I’m starting to believe you.”
Cindy managed a weary smile. “I’m glad you do. And you aren’t kicking me out.”
They sat in silence. The hum of the city seeped through the thin walls - cars, sirens, a dog barking somewhere far off.
Isabel finally exhaled, long and shaky. “All right,” she said, voice small but steady. “I don’t understand any of it. But you saved me once, and you’ve never hurt me. So until you give me a reason to kick you out, you’re staying.”
Cindy’s throat tightened. “Thank you.”
Isabel gave a nervous laugh. “Don’t thank me yet. I still might change my mind later.”
Cindy almost smiled. “Fair enough.”
The tension eased just slightly. Isabel picked up the empty glass and set it aside, then brightened suddenly, eyes gleaming with curiosity.
“Well,” she said, grinning, “you can’t leave me hanging, Miss Mystery.”
Cindy blinked. “What do you mean?”
Isabel dropped from the stool and plopped onto the mattress beside her, bumping Cindy playfully with her elbow. “You have to give me more about this so-called mate bond,” she teased, smiling brightly.
Cindy exhaled, half amused, half pained. The faint shimmer of moonlight caught the sadness in her eyes.
The night finally fell quiet - two girls sitting close on a thin mattress, one human, one something else, and a secret still only half-told.