Page 66 of Sweet Nightmare

I reach out for Jude, and he grabs onto my hand just as Mozart lets loose with another mouthful of flames—right before a giant pair of black-and-silver wings sprouts from her back.

At the same time, Luis ends up on all fours. The hair on his head starts growing seconds before fur starts sprouting up all over the rest of his body. A bunch of rainbow shimmers surround him, and in less than a minute, he’s turned into a huge, beautiful black wolf.

I reach for him, and he comes forward, letting me slide my hand along his spine before taking off in a ridiculously fast run around the quad.

“It’s okay,” Jude tells me, except it’s not. The black tattoos on his arms—the ones covered by the hoodie he always wears—are climbing up his neck, onto his jaws and cheeks and forehead. “Everything’s okay.”

“You—” I start to say, but my voice sounds different. Lower. Almost like a growl instead of a voice.

I try to clear my throat, and when that doesn’t work, I press a hand against the hollow of my neck. As I do, my nails prick the delicate skin there, and I look down to realize my fingers have curved and my nails have morphed into razor-sharp talons.

And that’s when it finally hits me. I’m not sick at all… I’m shifting into a manticore.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

A MANTICORE DOESN’T

CHANGE ITS TAIL

For a moment, everything inside of me goes blank as I try to absorb what’s happening.

There’s a part of my brain that says I must be mistaken. That no way could this possibly be what shifting feels like—what magic feels like. But all around me, people are doing things they shouldn’t be able to do. Things the school expressly forbids and stops them from doing.

It’s impossible, and yet it’s happening right now.

The burning sensation deep inside me gets worse with each second that passes, until I can barely stand to be in my own body.

“It’s okay,” Jude tells me again. “You’re okay.”

I don’t know how he can be so calm considering he’s practically in the same situation I am. Everyone else knows what it feels like to feel their power—they came here when they were freshmen and sophomores because of that power.

But Jude’s been here since he was a child. Not as long as me, who was born here. But still. My mother agreed to take him on when he was seven. And while I know he had experienced his power even at that young age, ten years have passed without him feeling anything.

So, yeah, I’m super impressed that he’s handling things as well as he is because I’m freaking out—especially every time I look down at my hands and see paws instead. Or when I glance over my shoulder and see a giant, stinging tail.

Make that a gross, giant, stinging tail. Because, holy shit, is it gross—long and scaly and black with a giant stinger on the end that looks like it can do some serious damage to anyone who gets too close. I don’t know whether to be terrified or horrified or a combination of both as it waves back and forth and curls under and over of its own volition.

I try to stop it, but somehow that only makes it worse until the thing is completely out of my control.

Jude jumps back as it slides by him, the stinger coming so close to his face that it nearly takes his eye out.

“Make it stop!” I wail, only it doesn’t come out like a wail. It comes out about an octave deeper than my usual voice and sounds a lot like a growl.

“I can’t, Kumquat. You’ve got to figure out what to do.”

“You make it sound so easy.”

“I know it’s not,” he soothes. “But it just takes practice. You’ll get the hang of it eventually.”

Eventually? How long is this lapse supposed to last? Long enough for those things writhing on his skin to cover his entire face? Long enough for me to sting him or anyone else who gets too close? Long enough for the entire school to turn completely magic?

I’m not asking the universe for an exact number here. I just need a ballpark figure so that I can calm my own shit down.

Behind me, Eva screams, and I whirl around just in time to see Jean-Luc fly across the fence, straight at us. His blond hair is streaming through the air behind him, and he’s got bloodred fairy wings coming out of his back. Jean-Jacques is right behind him, only his wings are a dark gray.

“Well, that’s the last thing you want to see in the middle of a shit show,” Jude comments quietly, and I have to admit he’s right.

The Jean-Jerks are menaces without their magic. With it…I don’t even want to know what kind of destruction these mafia fae can wreak.

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