I gasped. “How do you know that?” The idea that she’d been there and I hadn’t seen her really freaked me out. Taking the lid off my new Bobbi Brown beach perfume, I sprayed a little on each wrist and my neck, hoping the scent would calm my nerves.

“Well,” she said, her nose twitching. I wondered if she could smell the perfume, its fragrance the epitome of summer—a breezy day at the beach with a fruity drink in one hand as I lounged in the sun. As I thought about taking a trip to St. Tropez, I caught my reflection and tilted my head to one side. Something besides my eyes had changed. What was it?

Fizban interrupted my thoughts. “My appearance is slightly different now than it was yesterday.” She shifted positions and I caught a glimpse of her bright red hair. It was the exact shade of her lips. The color seemed tame compared to the blue of her eyes. They weren’t like any blue I’d ever seen on a person. They were turquoise.

Like Greg’s, I thought.

“What did you look like yesterday?” Something wasn’t right and my pulse raced.

“I was a little taller, a little broader. My voice was deeper and my muscles were thicker.” She winked. “You knew me as Greg.”

My first thought when she said that was to hang up on her. Obviously this was someone trying to give me crap. Maybe one of my friends put her up to it. Probably Eva. That’s when I realized there was no way to end the call. I picked up my phone, trying to figure out how to make her go away. I even pushed the button to turn off my phone. Nothing worked. “You’re lying.” I finally said, setting the phone down like it’d burned me.

“Am I?” She touched a finger to her nose and suddenly I was staring at Greg’s face. “For your vanity, your cruelty, and your cold—”

“No, stop,” I shouted, covering my ears. “It can’t be. It can’t be.” The buzzing was back, louder than ever. I squeezed my eyes shut. “Go away.” I wondered if someone had slipped something into my drink yesterday and I was still tripping. I wouldn’t put that past any of my friends.

Greg’s voice seemed to climb inside my head. For your vanity, your cruelty and your cold, unfeeling heart, a curse I leave upon you . . . The voice changed back to that of Fizban’s. A year shall not pass before your true form will be revealed. You are Vaktare, daughter of royalty, born to deliver your people, created to save your species from the extinction they so rightly deserve . . . The voice changed back to Greg’s. You, your father and your mother have been sentenced to die . . . It was Fizban again. Unless you can learn to give love unconditionally. Only then will your species have a chance.

The night called to me. I raised my head and roared at the full moon, surprised at how free I felt. How happy. It was a sensation I’d never experienced. Joy seemed to bubble along my veins and out each of my pores. I ran through the thick trees, climbing higher into the mountains, stalking something.

The scent drove me onward. When whatever I was tracking moved, my body instinctively compensated. It stopped. I did too, but only for a moment, and then crept forward at a slower pace. My body was stealthy. I knew exactly where to step and how much pressure to use. My ears turned back and forth as I listened. I sniffed the air, allowing the breeze to caress my whiskers, almost tasting what I was after, seeing with my senses everything that was around me. To the right was a small stream used by my prey to get water. That’s where what I tracked was heading. It didn’t even realize I hunted it.

The snap of a leaf straight ahead told me it was moving again. I picked up speed, knowing I would catch it at the stream. My heart raced with excitement.

The trees opened slightly. A deer stood at the water’s edge, her ears turning, listening for sounds of danger. Finally she dipped her head and began lapping at the water.

My throat burned with need. I was starving. I dug my front paws into the earth, preparing to attack. Then I ran. One. Two. Three. I leapt on the doe, my claws digging into her back, my teeth grabbing hold of her neck. I shook, snapping her neck until she was still. When I knew she was dead, I let go, roaring in triumph. Leaning over, I went for her stomach, but that’s when I noticed my reflection in the water.

I was . . . I was . . .

I jerked myself awake. “A monster.” I’d fallen asleep at the makeup desk in my closet. Lifting my head, I glanced in the mirror, and noticed whiskers. “Impossible.” I tightly shut my eyes. Counted to five. Opened them. The whiskers were gone. “Thank goodness.”

A white china plate had been placed on the edge of the table. Two seasoned steaks sat in the middle. To the right of the plate was a steak knife and a fork, a white linen napkin underneath. The meat smelled rotten. Not fresh like the deer in my dream. I poked at the meat slabs. They lay there, dead.

“Cold.” Frustrated, I picked up the plate, determined to give Mrs. Dotts a piece of my mind. Why hadn’t she wakened me?

Juices the color of blood swirled along the edges. They made my mouth water. My stomach gurgled. “Gross,” I said, aloud. But picked up the steak and took a large bite, tearing off a piece with my teeth. I chewed a couple times, swallowed and took another. My hunger increased as I ate. I couldn’t get it inside me fast enough. As I shoved the final piece in my mouth I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. And froze. My teeth were long and pointy. A piece of meat hung in my mouth. Some of the juices dribbled down my chin. One droplet hung and quivered and then fell onto my shirt.

I screamed, horrified and dropped the plate. There was a laugh. It sounded like Fizban. I couldn’t stop to deliberate what it was though. I ran to the bathroom, barely making it to the toilet before I puked.

“Miss Beatrice. Is everything all right?” It was Isaac knocking on my door.

My body shook. I wiped my mouth and flushed. At the sink I turned on the water, closing my eyes to avoid the mirror, and rinsed my mouth.

“Miss.” Isaac knocked again, harder.

I spit. Cleared my throat. “I’m fine, Isaac.” I thought about the plate and the juices staining the thick white carpet in my closet. It should be cleaned up. “Come in.” I walked to the window, peering outside. It was dark. A glance at the clock told me it was after midnight. I’d been asleep nearly twelve hours. That was unnatural for me. The moon shone three quarters full, a waxing gibbous, if memory served. There were no clouds. Millions of stars twinkled brightly. A satellite blinked across the sky, slowly making its way around the Earth. A shooting star shot across its path.

Most people believed in wishing on a shooting star. Not me. I didn’t need wishes. I always got what I wanted.

Except love, a voice inside my head whispered. It sounded like Fizban again. Or Greg. Their words filled my mind: For your vanity, your cruelty and your cold, unfeeling heart, a curse I leave upon you . . . A year shall not pass before your true form will be revealed. You are Vaktare, daughter of royalty, born to deliver your people, created to save your species from the extinction they so rightly deserve . . . You, your father and your mother have been sentenced to die . . . Unless you can learn to give love unconditionally. Only then will your species have a chance.

Isaac had walked in and paused just inside. “What do you require?”

I heard Isaac speak, but his voice sounded so far away. The curse burned itself on my heart, my soul, and each and every fiber of my being.

“Miss Beatrice? Are you ill?” He came forward and touched my arm.

I flinched, turning away. With my back to him I answered. “I dropped my plate in the closet.” I pointed in its direction, too afraid to go in there myself. I didn’t want to catch a glimpse of my reflection, worried I might see the changes on my face.