Persephone Alcmedi 00 - Wicked Circle

up at the hospital. I didn’t know my name and couldn’t remember anything. They called me John Doe but couldn’t find any head injuries. I was released to social services. The police assisted them in a missing persons search. Found nothing. By then I was used to being called Johnny, so I stuck with that, but the name Newman fit because . . . I was a new man.” He snorted. Let’s see if she knows what I know about the tattoos. “Teenage punk, all tattooed up.”
    “The last time I saw you was in May. You didn’t have the tattoos then.”
    That was a relief. He knew Eris had given them to him after he’d been abducted. Facing Toni squarely, he said, “There’s a giant hole in my life. Can you start filling it in now?”
    Toni reached into her purse and produced a small brown diary. The lock on it was broken, and a thick rubber band was keeping it shut. She plucked the stretchy plastic ring away and opened it, then handed him a school photo of a pimply teen, maybe fifteen.
    Johnny’s breath caught, recognizing his own face, minus the tattoos.
    His thoughts were racing, so many, jumbled and frantic. This was him. Toni really did know him! He checked the back of the photo. It was blank. “What was my name?”
    “Ironically enough, your name was John. John Hampton.”
    Elated, Johnny grinned as he repeated the name to himself many times. As he did, his gaze fell to the diary, and he wondered if that was his, if his own thoughts had been recorded there. “You’re not my mother, are you?”
    She laughed. “No. But I suppose I fed you more than she did there for a while.”
    “What’s her name? And my father’s? What were they like?”
    Toni raised her hand as if to say slow down. “I don’t know.”
    Johnny’s grin disappeared. Desperation roiled up. He snapped, “What do you mean you don’t know?”
    Toni shook her head and muttered, “This isn’t going to work.” She also stood. “You’ve a temper, John. That’s something I never could abide.” She left from the opposite end of the pew.
    Johnny nimbly leapt to the seat of the next pew and jumped into the aisle to block her. “Oh no, you’re not leaving now .”
    “I’ve given you a name. That was more than you had before, and you don’t intimidate me, John.”
    “I haven’t tried yet.” His beast snarled inside him.
    Toni leaned against the pew and crossed her arms, still clasping the diary. “Well, go on then,” she challenged. “Do your worst.”
    The beast slavered inside him. It wanted free, but Johnny fought. I am in control. Me. The man, not the wolf.
    But the wolf was strong.
    Johnny’s fingers itched. He threw off his jacket, tore the tie loose, and ripped the shirt, sending buttons flying. His fingers elongated and, even as dark hair sprouted from his skin, his nails darkened and sharpened into points. He lifted the black claw between them, and, when Toni did not react, he let the dull edge slide across her cheek—without pressing. “What do you mean you don’t know?” he asked again.
    “You didn’t talk about them,” she said calmly, “and if you want to scare me, you’ll have to do much more than that.” She curiously perused the tattoo on his chest.
    Johnny couldn’t smell any fear radiating off of her. It made his anger swell. He wrapped his hand around her throat, still without pressure. “I can do much more.”
    Toni simply blinked at him, no trace of fear anywhere.
    It reminded him of Ig . . . Ig hadn’t been afraid to be mauled either. He’d been dying anyway.
    The thought of his father figure hit him like a jab in the gut. That emotion weighed upon the beast until its grip weakened. Johnny felt control become fully his once more. But a disturbing idea had occurred to him.
    Concentrating, Johnny induced the transformation through his whole upper torso. His grasp on her neck was loose, even as his snout elongated and his nose grew infinitely more sensitive. She did not shrink away as he leaned in close, sniffed. Closer, he put his nose into her hair, against her neck . . . there. There it was, embedded in her scent. Disease .
    He released her and reverted, feeling the defeated whine of his beast. He retrieved his shirt from the floor and punched his arms into the sleeves. “How long do you have to live?”
    Toni’s eyes widened, then she set her jaw. “Maybe six months.” She bent to pick up his jacket and tie.
    “What do you want?” he asked. “Treatment in exchange for your