"...Damn convenient, don't you think?"

The irritated voice grated against Tora's fuzzy head. She sat up, rubbing her temple and her eyes adjusting to the darkness.

"I think nothing."

"Don't give me that crap."

Tora could imagine the scowl on the lieutenant's face. She stretched her hand upwards into the darkness. Beneath her callused hands, she could almost feel something else. Something silky and smooth, warm and gentle, long-fingered...

Her hands grasped only air.

"Look at you. Look at me. I've seen Carlos's cooking look better."

From somewhere a little further away, there came an indignant "Hey!"

"And her? Not a scratch. Lying on a pool of glass, human blood, and god knows what else. Not. A. Scratch." Each word was punctuated with a thump of fist on wood. "And that freak of nature's made it clear what he wants."

A light rimmed her door. It seemed the conversation was going on just at the bottom of the stairs. She sucked in a breath. The air was stale. She should probably aerate her room soon.

"Come on, Markl. You've led us through worse fights than this. Is it because you think she's one of us that you've been so bloody passive about it?"

Swinging her legs out of bed and then leaping out, Tora stretched her body, feeling her joints pop. She slapped her hair haphazardly into a ponytail and swung the door open with a bang. Blinking in the bright light, she stepped out onto the landing.

"Un-be-freaking-lievable."

Tora paused at the scathing tone, looking down the steps, bemused.

"What?" It came out more defensive than she'd intended. Markl shot her a warning look – he looked exhausted, with dark circles under his brown eyes and stubble covering his chin and neck. Ross held her body at an awkward angle, as if she'd sustained a back injury, and a deep claw mark covered the side of her neck, disappearing into the 'V' of her t-shirt. Her red hair was tied tightly back, revealing severe bruising along her hairline – no doubt where she'd collided with a wall during the fight.

"What?" Ross mocked, one hand on her hip, green eyes narrowing at Tora. Tora's hand tightened on the wooden handrail.

"Ross," Markl snapped. Both the girls shot surprised looks at him. "There's been peculiar events and injuries—" Ross let out a derisive snort. "—as it is. I don't want any more conflict tonight."

"You can't deny our right to know." Ross narrowed her eyes at him at that. "There are questions for you, too."

Tora was about to butt in but Markl's face closed up with a look she'd never seen before. She bit down her retort.

"We will sort it out, but not with that attitude, and not tonight."

With the glower he got in return, Tora knew it was only a matter of time before Ross pounced again. Markl left, leaving a heavy silence.

To Tora's astonishment, Ross followed him, throwing her a dirty look. Tora ended up standing alone at the top of the stairs, wondering what had gone down during her blackout.

"Something's changed."

Tora turned at the sound of Damien's voice. His head poked out of his door at the end of the corridor, two doors down from hers. One of his eyes was swollen with a black bruise blossoming above the socket. His right sleeve was rolled up, exposing bandages that covered his arm from wrist to beyond the elbow. From the similarly awkward way he held the limb, she would guess he harboured more than just a gash.

Tora didn't know what to say. The fuzziness from waking had faded and her mind was crisp and clear. Ross's scathing face burned in her mind. Contempt curled her lips at the picture.

"You know you can talk to me about anything—"

"It's not your business."

"Tora!" Shock flitted across his young face. That should have flooded her with guilt. Instead, she surveyed him with ambivalence. His green eyes met hers, hurt.

Cold tendrils floated around her head, invisible, but she could sense them. They caressed the edges of her mind, seeking an entrance. Abruptly, she shut her shield.

"Get the hell out of my head," she bit out her words, her eyes aflame, "or you'll regret it."

A forcefield swept through her mind, expelling the intrusion. The tendrils snapped back, alarmed. There was a thump of a head snapping back against a wooden door frame, followed by a cry. She didn't bother looking. Tiring of speaking, she whirled around and marched to her room.

She slammed the door shut, nearly taking it off its hinges. Bathed in the darkness, it did little to curb the sudden fury out of nowhere that took over her. She breathed heavily, her intercostal muscles and diaphragm straining against her anger. Her fingers and toes tingled. Damien's pathetic face swam into her mind's eye, followed by Ross's disdain. She scowled, her clenched fists shaking.

The next moment, her fist sunk into her wardrobe. It caved in, splinters flying everywhere. Cracks shot from the hole in all directions until they resembled the legs of a spider.

It didn't satiate her fire. One kick created another hole lower down in the wardrobe. A few pieces of wood littered the ground. She owned so few items of clothes that her heel connected with the wooden board at the back. Tearing her leg back out and creating a tear down the shin of her skinny jeans, Tora spun around, heaving in and out. Blood drummed in her ears. Even with the lights off, every detail shone clear in her eyes.

She kicked up her wooden chair. Flinging yesterday's hoodie onto the floor, she grabbed the legs with her hands and smashed it onto her table, which piled with old doodles and dried pens. Stationery went flying, followed by bits of chair. The table remained standing with a dent down its middle. Tora flung the remnants of the chair aside. It hit the wall and collapsed onto the carpet.

Acid burned in her vessels. Her eyes almost popped out of their sockets as boiling air moved in and out of her lungs. Her fingers burned, hot blood trickling from the open wounds.

She wasn't done.

****

Damien didn't say a single word during dinner, which was a slapdash quarter pounder with chips and salad. He chewed with his eyes downcast. Ross kept a razor-sharp eye on Tora throughout. She could feel the blaze burning to the side of her head.

Tora stabbed her fork into the burger. Despite her crooked, barely-crusted fingers, she drove the metal with enough force to skewer through the burger, sending crumbs flying onto the table. Beef juice leaked onto the white plate. Brown, not red. How disappointing. Tora swept a disdainful gaze over the golden chips and glistening greens. Her stomach burned with hunger, but not for what was in front of her.

What she'd give for it all to be raw and oozing blood, rich and fresh. Her mouth watered. Her eyes dawdled on Damien's arms, exposed beneath his rolled-up striped sleeves. Blood ran like dark blue rivulets beneath his pale skin, peppered intermittently by blossoming bruises. She licked her lips.

A warm rippling sensation crept up her legs. With a start, Tora held her breath, sneaking a look under the table. She swallowed.

Beneath baggy shorts, her legs were dark and smooth. Muscles bulged beneath the thick skin. Thick veins coursed up and down the limbs. Curved talons poked through new rips in the toes of her socks.

Well, at least I don't have to shave my legs, she thought drily to herself, her heart racing.

Something's changed, Damien had said. Tora's hands curled into fists. Struggling to slow her breathing and heart rate, she turned her eyes back to the burger in front of her, trying to act nonchalant.

Keep calm, she said ot herself. It'll go away. Breathe, dammit, breathe.

When she looked up after what seemed like hours, she as relieved nobody had noticed her episode. She sneaked a glance again. Yes, normal human legs – needing shaving.

Ross cleared her throat. Tora's stomach did a somersault, but ignored her. Beneath his blonde fluffy hair, Damien's face was white as chalk. He continued to spear chips mechanically into his mouth.

"You're not digging the burger?" Carlos said from Tora's left. It was just as well he sat there. His enthusiasm for vacuuming food kept him too busy to notice the situation.

"I'm not hungry." Her voice was strangled.

"Bull. You eat like a horse," he said, spraying bits of unchewed food everywhere. One of his neck veins bulged as he swallowed. It was so enticing. It took significant willpower to wretch her eyes away and look down at her cold burger again. "Fine, give it to me if you're not gonna eat it."

Damien pushed his plate away, leaving half a burger behind.

"I'm sorry," he said in a tiny voice. "Excuse me."

"More for me!" Carlos reached for the plate.

"What's wrong?" Markl said at last, setting down his cutlery. Brown eyes watched Damien with concern.

"I just need a lie down."

Damien pushed his chair back. He gave Tora a quick, nervous glance. Ross caught it.

"What did you do?"

Carlos jumped at the sudden surge in volume and inhaled the last chip. His face reddened and started coughing furiously.

Tora glared back at Ross, her back bristling. She wanted to strangle her. Swallowing the impulse, she let go of the fork impaling her burger. The metal had moulded to the shape of her misshapened fist.

Ross rose, not breaking the stare.

"Go on, wench!" she snarled, her red hair fanning out as if they were aflame. "Be the monster you truly are!"

Markl jumped to his feet, but he was too slow. Tora exploded. With an animalistic roar, she dived at Ross over the table, which upended with a crash. Carlos yelled, falling backwards over his chair. Damien disappeared.

Tora's hands lashed out in a blur. Ross's head snapped back. Blood sprayed the carpet behind her. Hands clamped around Ross's neck. Muscles tightened without mercy, bleaching Ross's skin beneath Tora's darkening fingers. Fire rippled like sonic waves through her body. Saliva dripped out of her mouth. Feral sounds escaped her throat.

Ross's eyes popped like grapes. The veins bulged. Weak hands scrabbled pathetically for release, to no avail. A triumphant hiss escaped Tora's thinning lips. All she could see as the strength draining out of Ross, the life escaping her, and the beginning of a delicious meal in front.

A blow came from nowhere. Stars shattered everywhere. Tora's brain rattled as she landed, her head colliding with one of the cupboards. Her teeth snapped together. Beneath her hands she could feel the smooth tiles of the kitchenette.  Her head spun. Kitchen utensils rained on her, bouncing off her body.

A dark shape slipped into her view. She caught sight of a thick arm reaching for her face. She slapped it away, eliciting a sharp crack. There was a low cry of pain.

Another arm came from her blind spot. Tora found herself pinned by the neck, her feet off the floor. She thrashed, screeching. The strength was remarkable. The assailant pinned both her arms above her head. Another crack, this time coming from Tora, reached her ears. Pain streaked like lightning to her core. She shrieked.

"Stop it," Markl roared.

Tora's ears rang. The deadly hush that fell hung like a lead blanket, broken only by Ross's harsh breathing.

The fury in Tora trickled away. She became aware of the cold sweat covering her entire body and her pounding heart – and the drip drip drip of her blood falling onto the kitchen floor tiles.

When it was evident Tora wasn't going to rear off like an animal again, he let her go, ensuring she still landed on her feet. Her socked feet splashed on the bloodied flood.

Her whole body ached.

Ross didn't look any better, propped up by Carlos on one side and Damien on the other. If anything, seeing that bruise rising like a black choker around her throat almost made Tora feel guilty. Almost. Tears shone on Ross's scarlet cheeks. Damien had gone even whiter, if that was possible.

Tora's eyes flicked back to Markl's, which were furious – and held a hint of fear.

"She's dangerous!" spat Ross, her voice more hoarse than a pack-a-day smoker. "I told you! She'll kill us all!"

Tora said nothing, letting the words fly over her head.

"Go to your room." Markl's voice trembled ever so subtly. "I'll deal with you later. That's enough, Ross."

The tremble was obvious in the last three words. Ross sucked in a breath, surprised.

Tora obeyed without a sound. Her body moved jerkily, like a robot. She trailed bloody footprints behind her – not that she cared.

As she rounded the corner, she could almost feel the heavy question weighing in the air.

What was going to happen to her now?

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