Eleanor's POV
I stared into the darkness, my mind refusing to process the words. "I'm sorry, could you… could you repeat that?" My voice was a thin, reedy thing. "I think my ears are hearing double. It sounded like you said… werewolf."
I did not stammer, Beatrice replied, her tone flat and utterly serious.
A hysterical laugh bubbled in my throat. "Okay. Right. Yeah. I'm now one hundred percent convinced. This is a mental break. A full-blown psychotic episode. This is what it feels like."
Oh, for moon's sake! Beatrice's frustration was a hot wave in my mind. The healed bruises? The vanished pain? The fact that you're not currently freezing to death in a stone icebox? Does any of that strike you as 'normal'? Or are you just willfully ignorant?
"It's not normal!" I admitted, my own frustration rising to meet hers. "But that doesn't mean I'm going to believe the first insane thing that pops into my head—or that a voice in my head says!"
