Thyla - Kate Gordon [36]
I walked softly down the hallway and opened the door to Casa Rhiannah Tessa. The first thing I noticed was Rhiannah’s open drawer. I closed it gingerly, then I changed into my pyjamas and lay down on my bed.
My head was brimming with images of girls leaping over walls.
I closed my eyes.
I knew I would not sleep.
I was still awake when Rhiannah came in.
She opened the door with a soft click and padded barefoot over to her bed, boots in hand. She sat down and quietly pulled her top drawer open. I knew without looking what she was reaching for. The metal tapped against the side of the drawer, and then I heard a faint rubbing noise as she pushed the bangle back on her wrist.
I remembered the jolt that the bangle had given me. It didn’t seem to be doing the same thing to her. If it was, she was being very brave and quiet.
I opened my eyes, just a crack, to look at Rhiannah, who stood in a shaft of moonlight.
What I saw made a scream catch in my throat.
It was Rhiannah I was looking at – definitely. She had the same cuttlefish-white skin, the same ink-black hair, many of the features of her face were the same …
But in her mouth, I saw the hint of pointed fangs.
And her wide eyes, which were normally dark brown, were now as black as her hair, and wider and narrower. There were black markings around her nose, and her nostrils seemed to point forwards, rather than down.
The hands that were slowly, quietly, pulling down her dark trousers now no longer had slightly pointed fingernails, but long dark claws.
But it was her legs that scared me the most.
As she pulled down her jeans, I saw that the skin on her legs was mottled – white and black together. And her knees …
Her knees no longer pointed forwards, the way human knees did. Instead, her legs were bent backwards like an animal’s. It was almost as though Rhiannah was something halfway between an animal and a human.
But then, as I watched, her knees clicked forwards, into normal, human knees. I heard her gasp quietly. Her body shuddered as the claws retracted into fingernails. I looked up to see her face jolt and shift – her ears slid sideways and her fangs flattened into regular teeth.
I squeezed my eyes tightly shut.
It’s just a dream, I told myself. It’s just a dream.
But I knew I wasn’t sleeping.
‘Wake up, sleepyhead,’ a slightly scratchy-sounding voice whispered in my ear. I felt a hand gently shaking my shoulder.
I jerked out of a brief, dreamless sleep and opened my eyes. It felt as if my eyelids were filled with glass shards.
Rhiannah was staring at me, her own eyes bloodshot, with dark half-circles tattooed beneath them.
But her irises were brown.
Definitely brown.
I wondered again if I had dreamed what I saw. Rhiannah looked normal now. Tired, but normal.
It had felt so real. All of it – the shock from the bangle, watching Rhiannah and the others leap over the fence, and then seeing Rhiannah transform when she returned.
And yet now she just looked like Rhiannah. Had I imagined it? Was I mad?
‘How did you sleep, mate?’ she asked. ‘Gawd, you look as tired as I feel!’
‘I feel as tired as you look,’ I admitted, cringing as I felt that the broken glass was not only on my eyelids, but in my throat as well.
‘Up all night studying?’ she asked, indicating with her head at the pile of schoolbooks beside my bed, the ones I had been reading to try and bore myself into sleep. No matter how I tried, I simply could not find mathematics interesting. History fascinated me. Art class was exciting and fun. Science intrigued and terrified me in equal parts (we were shown photos of ears growing on mice! And men walking on the moon!), but mathematics I found interminably dull.
‘Something like that,’ I replied, and it came out like a sigh.
‘Maths,’ she said, rolling her eyes. ‘I would’ve thought that’d be enough to put anybody to sleep, not keep them awake.’
‘You don’t like maths either?’ I asked.
‘Our kind usually don’t,’ she said, rubbing her forehead.
‘What do you mean “your kind”?’ I blurted.