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CHAPTER NINE / VOL. I, AN ITCH YOU CAN'T SCRATCH
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IT'S TOO FAMILIAR—the darkness, that is. Wasting away in the shadows, Will is reminded of the months following her mother's death when she was feral in every way that mattered. Like a rabid dog, she bared her teeth with saliva brimming at her jowls, hungry for more than just flesh and blood. But Will was seven then. She was seven and sloshing through mire, discovering demons and a dark predilection for violence that kept her alive. Eventually it stopped being about survival and the hunger for another kill became all consuming. It's an abysmal thing to realize that your appetite for carnage can never be fulfilled. Instead, you'll only feel more empty than before and you'll be desperate for your next high, taking it in whatever form you can.
But those days are gone, and even with all the good around her, she is still learning how not be a wolf anymore. She still jolts when hands reach for her and instinct tells her to sever the limb from their body, because monsters always prey on little girls and the people aren't any better. And then she'll remember when her knife is pressed to Sherman's throat that she's allowed to let her guard down now. She doesn't have to worry about when she'll get her next meal or about the shadowy figures that lurk around the corner. But even six months of this is hard to unlearn and after ten years Will is still grasping how to be human again.
Ever since they'd arrived in Chicago, everyone could feel the shift. No one could quite place why things had been unsettled, but they did seem to realize that Will was far too silent, in a way that was more daunting than anything else. But most importantly she seemed sad. They'd never seen her like this—eyes dark like coal and trailing down the tunnel like bad memories are lurking around every corner. Even Leo noticed the change and thought that maybe for now Will was human enough to be forgiven for her transgressions.
Piper's eyes are on Will as they pack up their camp, but everything else becomes background noise and all she can focus on is the girl who sharpens her dagger to stop her hands from trembling. Her eyes are marked with plum-colored bruising and the burn marks from yesterday look even angrier than before. It doesn't help that her face is still smudged with dried blood, though most of it had been wiped off. Piper wonders if she'd slept at all last night, and if not, then what had been running rampant in her mind? It does cross her mind that Will might be missing Annabeth, and Sherman, and even Luke whom she's never talked about. The one time Piper had tried to talk about him, Will had made it abundantly clear that his name was never to be uttered again.
