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the darkcircles beneath them. But it wasn’t my hair or the color of my eyes that had caught my attention. There was something in my expression that I didn’t recognize, something at once helpless and failing; whoever this Sam was, I didn’t know him.
    I snatched the flashlight and the banana off the corner of the sink. Every minute I spent here, Grace could be getting farther away.
    I trotted down the stairs, two at a time, into the seething music. The living room was still empty so I crossed the floor to turn the stereo off. It was a strange place, the lamps by the tartan sofas casting shadows in every direction, no one here to listen to the fury exploding from the speakers. It was the lamps, more than the emptiness, that made me uncomfortable. They were slightly mismatched, with dark wood bases and cream shades; Beck had brought them back one day and Paul had declared that the house now officially looked like his grandmother’s. Maybe because of that, the lamps never got used; we always used the brighter ceiling light instead, which made the faded reds in the couch less sad and kept the night outside. But now, the twin pools of lamplight reminded me of spotlights on a stage.
    I stopped next to the couch.
    The living room wasn’t empty after all.
    Out of the reach of the light, a wolf lay next to the couch, twitching and jerking, mouth parted, revealing its teeth. I recognized the color of the coat, the staring green eyes: Cole.
    Shifting. I knew, logically, that he must be shifting — whether from wolf into human or human into wolf, I didn’t know — but still, I felt uneasy. I watched for a minute, waiting to see if I would have to open the door to release him outside.
    The pounding music fell into silence as the song ended; I still heard ghostly echoes of the beat whispering in my ears. I dropped my supplies softly onto the couch beside me, the hairs on the back of my neck prickling to wary attention. By the other couch, the wolf wasstill spasming, head jerking to the side again and again, senselessly violent and mechanical. His legs were ramrod straight away from him. Saliva dripped from his open jaws.
    This wasn’t shifting. This was a seizure.
    I started with surprise as a slow piano chord rang out beside my ear, but it was only the next track on the CD.
    I crept around the couch to kneel by Cole’s body. A pair of pants lay on the carpet beside him, and a few inches away from them, a half-depressed syringe.
    â€œCole,” I breathed, “what have you done to yourself?”
    The wolf’s head jerked back toward its shoulders, again and again.
    Cole sang from the speakers, his voice slow and uncertain against a sparse backing of just piano, a different Cole than I’d ever heard:
    If I am Hannibal
    where are my Alps?
    I had no one to call. I couldn’t call 911. Beck was far out of reach. It would take too long to try to explain to Karyn, my boss at the bookstore, even if I could trust her to keep our secret. Grace might know what to do, but even she was in the woods, hidden from me. The feeling of impending loss sharpened inside me, like my lungs rubbed sandpaper with each inhalation.
    Cole’s body ripped through one spasm after another, head snapping back again and again. There was something deeply disturbing about the silence of it, the fact that the only sound accompanying all this abrupt motion was the hiss of his head rubbing the carpet while a voice he no longer possessed sang from the speakers.
    I fumbled in my back pocket and pulled out my phone. There was only one person to call. I stabbed in the number.
    â€œRomulus,” Isabel said, after only two rings. I heard road noise. “I was thinking of calling you.”
    â€œIsabel,” I said. I couldn’t make my voice sound serious enough for some reason. It just sounded as if I were talking about the weather. “I think Cole’s having a seizure. I don’t know what to