The Tape

The next day, Vera announced she was going "for a run."

"Stay off the leg," she commanded. She locked the front door, stripped off her boots, and vanished into the dense ferns shirtless, moving with terrifying speed.

Jade waited five minutes. Then she grabbed her crutches.

She didn't go to the front door. She went to the "Den"—Vera’s private quarters in the basement. Jade had seen Vera emerge from there with the food trays.

The door was heavy steel. Unlocked.

Jade pushed it open.

The smell hit her first. Earth. Musk. Dried blood. It smelled like a wolf’s den. The floor was dirt—actual packed earth brought inside. There was no furniture, just a pile of furs in the corner.

And a bank of monitors on the wall.

Jade hobbled over. It was a security setup. Feeds of the Atrium, the perimeter, the road.

On the desk, there was a laptop. It was open.

Jade tapped the spacebar. A video file was paused on the screen. The timestamp was dated four weeks ago. The night of the party.

Jade hit play.

The grainy footage showed the interior of a limousine. Jade was there, slumped in the backseat, wearing a torn silver dress. She was weeping, mascara running down her face in black rivers. She looked broken.

Vera was driving. The partition was down.

"I can't do it anymore, Vera," the Jade on the screen sobbed. She took a swig from a bottle of vodka. "They're eating me. The label. The fans. I feel like... I feel like a piece of meat."

"We can go home, Jade," Vera’s voice said from the front seat. Calm. Professional.

"No home!" Jade screamed, throwing the bottle. It shattered against the window. "I want to stop. I want to be something else. Something that can't be hurt. Something that bites back."

Jade watched her past self lean forward, grabbing Vera’s shoulder through the partition.

"You're strong, Vera. I've seen you. I saw your eyes change that night in Tokyo. I know what you are."

Vera stiffened in the video. "Jade, you're drunk."

"Make me like you," Jade begged. She was clawing at the upholstery. "Take me to the woods. Eat me. Change me. I don't care. Just kill the girl on the posters. Kill Jade. Please, Vera. Devour me."

Vera pulled the car over. She turned around. Her eyes in the night vision camera were glowing.

"If I do this," Vera said, her voice dropping to a growl, "there is no going back. The human dies. The Wolf remains."

"Do it," Jade whispered. "Save me."

Jade stared at the screen, her hand trembling over her mouth.

She hadn't been kidnapped. She had surrendered. She had invited the monster in.

"I didn't mean it," Jade whispered to the empty room. "I was drunk. I was sad. I didn't mean it."

"The soul doesn't lie, Jade."

Jade spun around.

Vera was standing in the doorway of the basement. She was covered in mud and fresh blood. She was naked, her body steaming in the cold air.

She held a dead stag by the antlers, dragging it across the dirt floor.

"You asked for freedom," Vera said, dropping the carcass. "And I have spent weeks preparing your body to receive it."

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