Vision in Silver(98)

            “Typical human,” a female voice said. “Grant them one thing and they always want more.”

            Meg stared at the Elemental whose red hair was tipped with yellow and blue, at the female face that could never pass for human. But sometimes danger could hide quietly . . . and so easily.

            “Meg?” Nathan’s voice.

            Nathan. In danger?

            The buzz turned into an agony she needed to tear out of her skin before it ate her alive.

            Have to stay in control, she thought. Have to . . .

            She pulled the silver razor out of her pocket.


* * *

            “Meg!” Nathan snarled, grabbing the hand that held the closed razor. “Meg, what’s wrong?” Should he have sensed something? Distracted by the Lizzy, had he missed a sign that Meg would cut?

            “I want to ride a pony!” Lizzy shrieked.

            He released Meg, whirled around and snapped at Lizzy, his teeth just missing her nose and shocking the girl into silence. Then he grabbed Meg again, trapping the hand with the razor and pulling her other hand away from her side.

            “Has the little human hurt our Meg?” Fire asked, looking at Meg and then at the Lizzy.

            <Jane!> Nathan called. <Come to the Pony Barn. Meg needs help. Hurry!> More to the point, he needed help.

            “Let me go!” Meg struggled to free herself. “Need to cut. Need to.”

            “Meg?” Now the Lizzy sounded scared.

            <I’ll take the pup back to her sire,> Jester said. The Coyote grabbed the girl, stuffed her into Meg’s BOW, and drove off.

            “Too much,” Meg cried. “Too much danger! I have to cut. I have to cut now.”

            “You cut a couple of days ago,” Nathan protested. “It’s too soon.”

            “Have to,” she panted. “Lizzy. Have to.”

            He wasn’t supposed to be around her when she was bleeding. None of the Wolves were supposed to be around her. Cassandra sangue blood was an almost irresistible temptation, as well as a drug humans called feel-good. Simon had learned that the hard way when he licked one of Meg’s cuts and suffered an overdose, becoming so passive he’d been helpless for hours.

            “Meg,” Nathan growled. “Meg!” If he kept holding her, he would end up hurting her. If he let go, she would make the cut when she was acting crazy, and that might kill her.

            Meg cried out as if she were in terrible pain. What if she was? What if not letting her cut was damaging her in some way he didn’t understand?

            Howls from the Wolfgard Complex. Help was coming . . . but not in time.

            Nathan looked at Fire. “The only way to protect her is to cut her. But I’ll have trouble once she starts bleeding.”

            Fire stared at him. Then she nodded. “I will protect Meg. Even from you, Wolf.”

            Nodding, Nathan pulled Meg into the barn. Grabbing a blanket, he tossed it over the straw in the first stall and pushed her down.

            Crying. Begging. Was it always like this? He didn’t think so.

            He pulled the razor out of her hand and opened it. Her hands, now freed, clawed at the skin just above the waistband of her jeans, trying to cut the skin with her fingernails.

            Nathan pinned one of Meg’s hands under his knee. Fire grabbed her other hand.

            How long? How deep? No time to wait for answers.