Turner dragged himself to work with his head down, his dark glasses struggling to block the bright morning sun.
He mumbled to himself, "Oh come on body," and then drank his large cup of coffee. His best guess was that he was infected with a low-level virus that he was unable to eradicate. His head was stuffed, his muscles were aching, and even his teeth were throbbing.
Either that or his hangover from tomorrow's 25th birthday party was so strong that it had traveled back in time.
Sneezing, aching, and generally feeling awful for the past three weeks. Despite the fact that he, Cullen, and Linc had invested their pitiful life savings in developing a game, there was no room for sick days, he had continued to drag himself to work.
He came to a stop on a street corner, drank his coffee, and felt his mind racing. In the past month, the sleepwalking and sleep talking had gotten much worse. He had fallen asleep in the lounge trying to lower the curtains last night. After that, he'd been awakened three more times, convinced that someone was inside the house. He had to move everything away from the side of his bed because it had become so bad that he might smash it while he was sleeping.
"Are you going or what?"
Turner got going when he heard the girl's voice. He must have entered a half-trance while waiting for the sluggish traffic because he was so exhausted.
He started to say, "Uh, yeah, I'm-" when he saw her.
The brunette.
A week ago, he had seen her while sitting across the street in the Grease Trap, one of the local diners in the city of Baxter that served generous portions of everything fried. He had only observed a flash of bright red hair, long legs, and ripped denim shorts on a perfect bubble butt before it disappeared around a corner.
He would have dashed outside to follow her if Alejandro's Heart Attack Special—two sausages, two eggs, three hash browns, mushrooms, tomato, biscuits and gravy, and a chicken fried steak—had not just landed on the table.
She was now standing there, gazing at him with a half smile and sparkling green eyes. Her hair was glowing like it was on fire in the sun, even through his dark sunglasses. She wore more ripped denim shorts, a tartan shirt that had been tied and knotted, and enough cleavage to cut an arm off. Today, she was rocking the Daisy Duke look.
His brain went into lockdown as a result of the lack of sleep, the low-level virus, and just how damn hot she was. He told himself not to look down, but that's exactly what he did: he looked down at her legs, then back up.
She also saw him do it, but he noticed that she was looking at him from above and below as well.
"What's up, wolf? You got your tongue?" Putting her hand on her hip, she asked.
A howl came from the alleyway just behind the blonde, and he was about to respond. Her expression of gratitude disappeared.
She turned and sped off, swearing, "Oh damn."
"Wait!" Without thinking, Turner yelled and sprinted after her, driven by an impulse he couldn't comprehend. A second howl pierced the air, shaking him to the core. Some creature was clearly in distress. He briefly considered contacting animal control, but the urgency of the situation propelled him forward, racing behind the girl. The temperature dropped as they entered the narrow alley, and the cobblestones became treacherously slippery.
She was swift, moving with agility through the alley, already halfway ahead of him. Turner's determination pushed him to accelerate, despite the chilling surroundings. He knew he had to catch up to her.
As she reached a crossroads in the alley, a looming shadowy figure pounced on her, eliciting a yelp of fear. It was a terrifying sight, even in the early hours of the morning when help seemed unlikely to arrive. These desolate alleys felt like a different world compared to the sunny sidewalks of the city.
The creature that attacked her appeared to be a cross between a bulldog and a wolf, emitting menacing growls that replaced the earlier howling. Turner briefly questioned if the cry had been a trap, designed to lure her into danger. He skidded to a halt, taking in the scene before him. The girl had risen to her feet, grasping a discarded metal piece from the alley. It seemed to be a solid chunk of window siding, covered in blood. Her torn shirt revealed deep claw marks running down her arm.
The situation was dire for both the monstrous dog and the girl. The creature bled profusely from a head wound, limping in pain. With a guttural growl, the beast shifted its focus to Turner.
"We need to neutralize it, or it won't stop!" the girl shouted urgently.
Aware that the monstrous dog was preparing to attack, Turner gripped his espresso tightly and hurled it at the creature's head, while simultaneously lunging for the metal debris.
Despite the scalding coffee, the monster dog disregarded it, continuing its relentless advance. Turner managed to grab the metal piece and wielded it like a baseball bat, momentarily slowing the creature down.
"Shift!" the girl commanded, her voice carrying a desperate edge.
Time seemed to distort for a moment. Her words were not a warning to move aside, but something else entirely. Shift, she had shouted.
In the midst of chaos, Turner's swing fell short as the dog closed in with alarming speed. The metal object struck his arm, snapping bones like dry twigs. Agony consumed him, a red haze of pain. The creature leaped, sinking its teeth into his shoulder and neck, even as he landed a desperate punch. The roar of pain intensified, drowning out rational thought. Blood sprayed into the air, his vision blurring.
Suddenly, he found himself on his back, sprawled in the middle of the alley. It felt as though he had been transported there in an instant, a black flash extinguishing the world around him. The girl loomed over him, her wild green eyes and blood-stained lips contrasting against her pale face.
"Dammit! I told you to shift! What, your parents didn't teach you anything?" Yvonne's frustration seethed through her words as Turner felt a distant, dull roar reverberating in his neck and arm, like waves crashing on a faraway shore.
He contemplated the unspoken truth that his parents had passed away when he was young, rendering him devoid of their guidance. The effort to speak felt arduous, his words escaping in fragmented whispers.
A sensation of drifting off to sleep enveloped him, as if a warm, inviting fog settled into his limbs.
The blonde, now transformed, followed suit.
She leaned in, her kiss violent and desperate. He winced as she bit his bottom lip, mingling blood with her own.
Just as he surrendered to the allure of the warm embrace, which in his mind resembled the embrace of death, a sharp and sudden pain jolted him back to consciousness.
"What's your... name?" he managed to exhale.
Turner watched as Yvonne, still tasting the blood on her lips, sucked it from her lip with her finger. A hint of coppery redness lingered in the dimly lit alleyway.
"It's Yvonne, and like I said, shift," she responded.
In an instant, Yvonne transformed into a wolf, a girl fused with the essence of the wild. Her nose vanished, replaced by furry ears protruding from her hair. Her clothing disappeared, leaving her adorned in her lupine form.
A thought flickered in Turner's mind, "Her blood!" as an inexorable force tugged and constricted within him. Amidst the dimness of the alleyway, Yvonne, now in her wolf-girl form, fixated on his body and blood.
The last sound he heard was a haunting howl before a wild and all-encompassing darkness consumed him entirely.