Chapter 3 Eaten Heart

Simone

"Simone, listen carefully. Don't tell anyone where you're going. Not your father. Not a single soul."

My grandmother's voice crackled through the phone. I stood at a bus stop in a stranger's shirt.

"Grandma?" I frowned, tilting my head. My throat still stung, but I could talk now. "What's going on? You sound scared."

"Come to the house. Today. Right now." A shaky breath. "I should have told you years ago. I kept thinking there was more time."

"Told me what?"

"Not on the phone." Her voice cracked. "Just come. Please, my girl. Please."

The call dropped. I stared at the screen. My grandmother never begged. She was the woman who'd once chased a burglar out of her yard with a frying pan.

I took the first bus. Then I walked the last mile on foot because my legs were still weak and the driver didn't go that far.

I couldn't think about any of it. Not yet.

The front door stood open as I got to her place and my feet slowed. "Grandma?"

No answer.

The humming I always heard when I came here was missing. The house was too quiet. "Grandma, it's me!"

I stepped inside. The kitchen light was on. A chair was knocked over. Her glasses lay broken near the stove.

Something cold crawled up my spine. "Grandma?" My voice came out small. "Please answer me."

A low growl came from the living room.

I froze. Slowly, I turned my head.

Three wolves stood in the middle of the room. Gray and black, their fur matted with red. Their heads were lowered, their muzzles dripping. And on the floor between them, my grandmother lay on her back... her chest was open.

My mind refused to understand. I stood there, blinking. One wolf lifted its snout. In its jaws, something dark and wet glistened.

A heart. My grandmother's heart.

It chewed and swallowed.

A scream ripped out of me. I dropped to my knees. My hands flew to my mouth. My whole body started to shake like I was standing in a storm.

"No. No, no, no. Grandma. GRANDMA!"

The wolves turned.

Yellow eyes locked onto mine. Slowly, one of them rose onto its hind legs, its bones cracking and shifting. In seconds, a tall man stood in front of me, naked and smeared with blood, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

"You're late," he told me.

I couldn't breathe. I couldn't blink. "Why?" It came out in a broken whisper. "She's an old woman. She never hurt anyone. Why?"

He gave a lazy shrug. "She knew too much. Talked too much. Old women are like that."

"Knew what?"

He didn't answer. He walked slowly around me, studying me like a piece of meat on a hook. "You're smaller than I thought."

The other two wolves shifted too. One of them, a scarred man with a chipped tooth, laughed under his breath. "This is her? The granddaughter?"

"That's her."

"She looks like a rabbit."

"Rabbits run. Let's see if she does."

I scrambled back, my hands sliding in blood. Tears blurred everything. My grandmother's face was turned toward me, her mouth open, her eyes still wide.

"She called for you at the end," the first man said softly and leaned down. "You know that? Said your name three times. Right before I reached in."

Something inside me snapped.

My hair burned... I felt it. A sparking heat at my scalp that I hadn't felt since the night before. Strands whipped across my face, and the color caught my eye. Red, gold and streaks of white.

The man's smile faltered. "What the hell...?"

I lunged and threw myself at him, clawing, screaming, hitting his face, his chest, his throat. He caught my wrist and twisted. Pain shot up my arm. He slammed me against the wall so hard my teeth rattled.

"Stupid little girl."

"Let me go!" I kicked at his shin. "Let go of me, you animal!"

"Animal?" He laughed, delighted. "You're half right."

"Wait." The scarred one stepped forward and sniffed the air. His brows pulled together. He stared at my hair, at my face. "Something's wrong. She smells wrong."

"She's human."

"No. Not entirely."

The man pinning me froze. His grip loosened by a fraction. His eyes narrowed, studying my hair, which was still flickering with color.

"Did the old woman hide something?" he muttered.

Then my phone rang. All three heads snapped toward my pocket.

The man holding me reached into my pocket and pulled it out. He glanced at the screen. A slow, cold smile spread across his bloody face.

"Look at that," he murmured. "Right on time."

I tried to read the name on the screen. My vision swam.

Dad.

The man turned the phone toward his friends. They exchanged a look, and the scarred wolf started to laugh.

"Don't answer it," I begged. My voice cracked. "Please, don't..."

The man held the phone in front of my face. He didn't answer. He let it ring and ring, letting me watch the word glow on the screen.

"Funny thing about your father," he told me as he tossed the phone to the floor, "He knew we were coming."

My heart stopped. "What?"

He released my wrist. I slid down the wall. He crouched in front of me, his bloody fingers tapping my cheek twice, gently, like I was a pet.

"Tell Leonardo," he said, "that we kept our end of the deal."

Then they were gone