The bathroom was empty apart from the overflowing trashcans and paper
towels strewn across the ground.
I examined my reflection in the cracked mirror. My lower lip was swollen
and tinged pink with blood, and my cheeks were flushed and damp. Though
I’d only been in the rink for one jam, the excitement and nerves of the night
had made me sweatier than a pig.
I splashed some water on my face and swished the last remnants of blood
from my mouth as I tried to wash away the cocktail of residual emotions
from the game. I’d lost my cool and probably owed Sam an apology, even
though I was the one with the fat lip. When Sam had whipped past with her
cocky laugh, my brain had fried, and I’d had the irresistible urge to chase
after and hunt her down.
I grabbed a handful of paper towels and dragged them over my face,
feeling a modicum of relief. Suddenly my heartbeat skyrocketed, like I’d
been hit with a dose of epinephrin. I gasped and stumbled back from the sink
as I glimpsed my reflection.
Staring back at me were a pair of honey-gold eyes. My eyes.
No, no, no.
Pressing my eyelids shut, I inhaled slowly and counted to ten.
It’s not real.
This had happened right after I’d killed Billy. I opened my eyes again,
and they were a steely blue—their natural color. Was I losing my mind?
Maybe it was just PTSD or something. I’d been hunted and hounded by
werewolves, and my mind was starting to play tricks on me.
“Get a hold of yourself, Savy,” I muttered as I tossed the paper towels in
the trash and pushed through the door.
I needed to figure out what the hell was going on with me. But my gut
told me that the answer was tangled up with the sorcerer, and until I
discovered who he was and hunted him down, I’d be shit out of luck.
My hands were shaking when I saw Zara and Sam down the hall. They