Helena's POV
The smell of ash clings to my flesh like a second skin, and Lewis's blood coats my tongue no matter how many times I try to wash it away. My hands have been scrubbed raw, yet I still catch traces of that unholy fire, the metallic tang of death, the acrid smoke of a temple burning. The curse has ended, but something else has begun, something I cannot yet understand.
Two days have passed since the flames consumed everything. The Shadowcrest Pack house moves around me like a hushed cathedral. Pack members drop their heads when I walk by, but their eyes dart away before meeting mine. The respect is there, but so is the fear woven through it like poison through silk. I have transformed from one kind of outcast into another, and I am not certain which is worse.
Dawn brings the council's summons. Asher reads the formal words while I sit curled in the window seat, drowning in one of Leo's oversized shirts, watching morning light slice through the lingering mist.
