Murphy said, glancing back over his shoulder as if we might have been followed here by someone.

He grunted, faced front, and set off into the forest.

I grabbed his arm. He stopped, a questioning look etched on his face.

“Before we reach the Dead Waters, will you take me somewhere?” I asked him.

“Where?” he asked.

“To the place I was born,” I whispered.

Murphy looked into my eyes as if searching them somehow. “Okay,” he whispered back, then set off again.

With Potter at my side, we followed Murphy as he cut his way through the trees.

There was no path, no marks or signs to lead us in the right direction. None of us spoke. The only sound was that of our shallow breathing. For some reason, and I couldn’t be sure why, my stomach had tied itself into a nervous knot. It felt hard and uncomfortable. Was I scared about what lay ahead? If so, why? I had been here before.

Before the world had been pushed, I’d been led here by Murphy – just like now. He had come because he had made a deal with the wolves – but they had set him a trap. My brother Jack had trapped him. Why had Murphy always been so ready to trust the Lycanthrope, whereas Potter had always hated them? Was it because Murphy had loved a wolf? Was it because I was a half and half? Perhaps he had always been so willing to trust the Lycanthrope because he needed to. It, in some way, justified the choices he had made in the past when it had come to certain Lycanthrope in his life – half and half’s like me, or full-bloodied Lycanthrope like his beloved Pen? I couldn’t be sure.

We had been walking sometime in the light of the moon that cut between the branches of the trees in thin silver slices, when Murphy suddenly stopped. He looked at me and said in a whispered voice, “This is the place, Kiera. This is where you were born.”

I looked about, my eyes as keen as ever in the dark. I don’t know what I’d been expecting, but it looked like any other part of the forest.

“How can you be sure this is the right place?” I asked. “It was over twenty years ago.”

“I will never forget that night, Kiera,” he said softly. “Your mother was propped against that tree over there.” Murphy pointed to a large Spruce with a moss-covered trunk.

I stepped away from Murphy and Potter and made my way slowly towards the tree. I tried to picture my mother there, but it was impossible. I had never seen a picture of her – I only had to go on what Jack had told me. She had long, thick, black hair like mine, with pale skin and hazel eyes.

“What was my real mother like?” I asked without turning to face Murphy.

“You look a lot like her,” Murphy said, staying back with Potter.

“I meant, what was she like as a person?”

I asked again. “Jack told me she was evil. He said she was a killer.”

“He told you the truth,” Murphy said.

To hear it from Murphy made my stomach clench. I now understood why I had felt so fearful on my way here. I was scared I had been born from a ruthless killer. A child killer, just how Jack had described her.

“So she killed children then?” I whispered.

“She was a wolf, Kiera,” Murphy said, his voice soft. “That’s what wolves do.”

“And Pen?” I asked, looking back over my shoulder. “Did she kill children, too?”

“No,” Murphy said sombrely, with a shake of his head.

“Why not?” I pushed for an answer.

“Because she refused to give in to the curse,” he explained.

“So my mother had a choice then?” I asked.

“We all have a choice with how we live our lives,” Murphy said, Potter standing silently beside him.

“So why did my father love her then?” I shot back.

“That was his choice,” Murphy said. “Like I said, Kiera, we all have choices. Some we regret more than others.”

“And what was your choice that night?” I asked, my bright hazel eyes fixed on his.

“To leave you to die or save you,” he said straight back.

“And do you regret the choice you made?”

I whispered.

“Never,” he said.

“Even though I was born from a wolf...a child killer?” I asked.

“None of us ask to be born,” Murphy said.

“None of us choose our parents. But we can choose not to be like them, Kiera. I know that’s what you fear. You fear you might become like your mother – you might turn out like your brother, Jack. Just because you are part wolf doesn’t mean you have to be like one of them. You can choose to be nothing like them – you can choose to be better than them.”

I looked back at the tree where my mother had pushed me into the world. I’d had two mothers in my life and both had made bad choices.

Both had given in to a curse. Kathy Seth, the lust for killing, and Jessica Hudson, the craving for the red stuff. Murphy was right; I hadn’t chosen either of them. But I did have a choice now, and I chose not to be like either of them. I just wanted to be me – Kiera Hudson.

Slowly, I turned away from the spot where I had been born. “I’ve seen enough. Let’s get going,” I said without looking at either Murphy or Potter. Silently, the three of us set off in the direction of the red lake, which we had come to know as the Dead Waters.

Chapter Eighteen

Kiera

The moon seemed brighter than ever as we reached the lake. Its waters sloshed against the shore in crimson waves. Sand covered my boots like freckles as I stood on the shore and looked across the Dead Waters. It stretched away before me, the trees surrounding the other side looking like a vast black shadow. The lake stretched away for as far as I could see to my right. To my left, and although I couldn’t see it, I could hear the thunderous roar of the Fountain of Souls as it raced upwards into the night sky, carrying the souls of those the Lycanthrope had slaughtered since time had begun. Hidden behind the fountain were the caves where the Lycanthrope lived. Sam had said they were deserted now – that the wolves had gone to Wasp Water – but were there some wolves still hiding out behind the fountains?

White shards of moonlight reflected off the red water like broken slithers of glass. Apart from the distant roar of the fountain, this world hidden behind the trees was deathly quiet. Potter and Murphy stood on either side of me. Both of them looked at me, as if I knew what to do next.

Knowing that time was short, and we had yet to find Kayla and Sam, I looked down at my hands.

The blood I had sucked from Potter’s neck was already losing its power. The backs of my hands, wrists, and forearms were once again covered.

Just as before, a fine, white dust seeped from the ragged cracks. My skin felt taut, my arms growing heavy.

Slowly, I hunkered down and traced my fingertips over the surface of the red water. At once I felt the strangest of sensations. It was like my fingers were sucking up the red water, like they had become straws. I watched the skin turn supple again as far as my knuckles. Seeing this, I plunged both my hands beneath the water. It was cold, and my fingers tingled. I pulled my hands from the lake. Holding them up before me, I inspected them in the moonlight. The cracks had faded.

Standing, I started to undress. Looking at both Murphy and Potter, I said, “Look away.”

“Even me?” Potter asked.

“Definitely you!” I shot back.

Murphy turned his back to me without any hesitation, while Potter lingered.

“Turn around,” I hissed.

“But...” Potter started.

“Just turn around, you freaking weirdo,”

Murphy barked at him. “We haven’t come here for you to get your rocks off. Pervert!”

“I’m not a pervert,” Potter started to argue, turning his back to me.

I stripped down to my panties and stepped into the water. With my arms crisscrossed over my breasts, I looked back at Potter and Murphy and said, “What are you waiting for? Get in.”

They stripped naked. The white light from the moon made their bodies look as if they had been carved from alabaster. I looked at Murphy’s naked body and could see a network of cracks spreading out from the centre of his firm chest like a spider’s web. Some were deeper than others, but each of them bled a white dust-like powder down the length of his stomach. Potter’s body looked the same, although his flesh, unlike Murphy’s, was fractured around his well-rounded shoulders and down his back.

I turned away from them. The water rippled around my ankles, calf muscles, then thighs as I headed out deeper into the lake. I looked over my shoulder to see Potter and Murphy coming towards me. When the water was deep enough to cover my breasts, I stopped and waited for them to join me. Standing in a small circle, we looked at each other as the red water lapped against our pale flesh.

“So what happens now?” Potter asked.

Before I’d had the chance to answer, I suddenly started to feel warmer. At first I couldn’t be sure if it was the temperature of the water which had changed, or my skin. The water fell suddenly still, not even a ripple broke the surface.

I looked past Murphy and Potter. The lake now looked like a vast, red-tinted mirror. I began to feel warmer still and I looked at my friends, realising that the heat was, in fact, coming from my core somehow. It was like my soul was being awakened.

“Can you feel that?” Murphy whispered, his silver hair gleaming beneath the moonlight.

“Yes...” I started then grabbed my own chest, suddenly lurching forward in the water. The red waters splashed up, some of it going into my mouth. It tasted not like fresh spring water, but of blood. It was hot in my mouth, and warmed the back of my throat as I swallowed.

“What’s wrong?” Potter asked, as I steadied myself, still holding my chest beneath the water.

“It feels like...” Before I could finish, I bolted forward again, as if shoved violently from behind. I felt something I hadn’t felt since before waking up on the mortuary slab. It felt like my heart was struggling to start beating again.

“My heart...” I gasped, pressing the palms of my hands between my breasts.