Read Online Fateful by Claudia Gray - Free Book Online

to think. What is a wolf doing onboard? Surely no wild animals would be brought aboard a ship, or if they were, they would be caged in the cargo hold. This is Mikhail’s doing, obviously, but I can’t imagine why.
    Is it the same beast I saw in Southampton? No—this one is sleeker, redder. But it is surely another wolf, and surely now even more dangerous. If only Alec would appear again to help me. Alec, or anyone. But there’s no one here besides Mikhail.
    He laughs again, though now it’s quieter—slow chuckling. As though he’s seen all this a thousand times before, but it never fails to amuse him. “How long do you think that will protect you? Three minutes? Five?”
    I don’t answer. I have nothing to say to that worthless bastard.
    “The wolf is very close,” Mikhail says. “Close enough to smell your blood. But he doesn’t remember how to be a wolf any longer. If he did, he would have devoured you already.”
    The wolf’s pacing slows. I can hear it breathing.
    There’s a small bench in the little booth, and, keeping my hands braced against the door, I step atop it. That means the red wolf won’t be able to drag me down by my ankles. It also means I can see Mikhail. He’s still standing not far from the door—but he’s taken off his jacket. His white shirt has begun to stick to his body from the moisture in the air; he’s thick with muscles, so rippled and bulky that he looks nearly monstrous. No wonder I couldn’t fend him off. Now he takes off his shoes. As he sees me watching him, Mikhail’s grin widens, and he pulls open his shirt to reveal his hairy chest. I look away so as not to give him the satisfaction. It seems clear enough what he has in mind, but how does he expect to get at me with a wild wolf between us?
    Mikhail says, “If he’s forgotten how to be a wolf, then I’ll have to remind him.”
    He growls—a low sound like an animal’s. Just like an animal’s. Then he screams.
    I turn back toward Mikhail, half expecting to see the red wolf attacking him. But the wolf remains in front of my door, its red fur standing on end, a low growl scratching in its own throat. Mikhail is screaming, louder and louder, naked now, his body exposed—
    And changing.
    It’s the steam playing tricks on me. The darkness. My own fear. But no. I see this. It’s really happening.
    Mikhail’s body twists and contorts, shoulder blades spreading outward, back hunching so sharply it’s as if he broke his spine. He falls to all fours, arching his neck back as his face stretches with a terrible sound like the butcher sawing through gristle. His jaws grow. His teeth seem to be stabbing their way out of his gums. And his skin is darkening—no. He’s growing black hair all over his body. Fur.
    A wolf , I think. Another wolf, as enormous as the first, but iron black. And this, I know, is the very wolf that chased me last night in Southampton. For the first time I realize that Mikhail is a monster, a thing out of stories told to frighten children, but it’s real. He’s real, and he’s growling, and he began hunting me before this voyage ever started, and now—now he’s coming to kill me.
    The black wolf charges toward my stall, and I cry out in fear as I push back against the door, expecting him to burst through at any second. But then I hear another growl, and the impact of beast against beast.
    I look back over the stall to see the red wolf lunge at the black wolf’s throat.
    They’re like dogs fighting now—tearing at each other’s flesh, snapping and snarling. The steam is so thick that I can’t make out precisely what’s happening, but the black wolf is larger, and so I feel sure it will win. Yet the red wolf stands its ground, sinking its fangs into the black wolf’s shoulder and hanging on.
    For one moment I think the red wolf must be defending me. But how stupid of me. It’s just trying to claim prey for itself.
    “Help!” I scream. “Somebody, help!” My voice echoes off the green