“Among other things, yes.”
“I guess I’m glad you don’t sleep withthemunder your pillow.”
“They’re not as irreplaceable as a magical medallion.”
“Perhaps,” Rue said, “if you nattered less, your magical items would have more opportunity to assist with your ailments.”
I raised my eyebrows. “I thought you’d charmed her.”
“With my handsome face and charismatic smile, not my words.”
“Books,” Rue announced, setting aside her magnifying glass and heading toward one of the many shelves in the living room. “I must spend some hours doing research. Oh, and I’d like samples of the area.”
“The, uh, area?” Duncan asked.
“Around your scar. Are you afraid of needles?”
“Not at all. I even gave Luna a sword in case she desires to stab me.” After the words came out, he must have remembered that the sword was currently missing—and I blamed myself for its loss—because he lifted an apologetic hand toward me.
“All mates with tendencies toward nattering should be so conscientious with their gift giving. Here.” Rue returned with a wooden case that looked like it would contain chess or backgammon pieces. When she opened it, numerous antique needles and syringes lay mounted inside. “Let’s take that sample.”
Duncan bared his teeth but didn’t step back.Iwould have.
After he’d suggested I get some sleep, I’d been halfway to the door, but I asked, “Do you want me to stay?”
“That depends,” Duncan said. “Will you hold my hand and lend moral support or mock me if I shed a tear when that giant needle slides into a vein?” He pointed to one that looked like it should be applied to a horse rather than a human.
“Given my nature, it might be a little of both.”
He smiled and waved me to the door. “Get some rest. I’ll be fine.”
“Well, don’t scream. Quiet hours here start at ten.”
“I’ll keep your regulations in mind while I’m enduring my agony.”
“You’re a good werewolf.” I gave him a thumbs-up before stepping out, glancing at my phone to see if Jasmine had sent any updates.
She hadn’t yet. There probably weren’t any images on the internet that matched the hand device. It might well have been in the back of Abrams’s safe for fifty years, long pre-dating the internet.
On the way to my apartment, I picked up some garbage on the grounds and grabbed my mail. A letter from Austin at the Air Force base in Mississippi surprised me. He hadn’t written anything to me on physical paper since his fifth-grade teacher had made him practice addressing letters during handwriting class.
My first thought was that it was a Christmas card that he’d mailed before flying home, but he’d come in person, so he wouldn’t have sent one. Besides, this had a recent postmark.
Butterflies fluttered in my stomach as I reached for a letter opener in my kitchen junk drawer. After the night of our battle—after learning that his mother was awerewolf—Austin hadn’t said much, giving only brief answers to questions and looking relieved to head back to the airport. I’dwantedto talk about it, to explain why I’d kept it a secret, but I also hadn’t wanted to overload him with information he wasn’t ready for. Or didn’t want? Had he even known werewolves existed before that night? I didn’t know.
My hands shook a little as I unfolded a yellow, lined piece of paper.
Hi, Mom.
I hope this isn’t cowardly or anything, but I wasn’t sure what to say if I called or texted. What I saw that night didn’t make sense to me, even though I’d heard… Well, I guess I didn’t believe the stories of vampires and werewolves and Santa Claus. Not since I was a little kid. It was all… really weird and confusing.
I called Cam from the airport to ask if he knew. He sounded skeptical when I blurted everything out to him and said I should have stayed off the ’shrooms. I wasn’t even having a beer that night though. I tried to explain, but he said I was nuts and told me to call Dad for proof that you aren’t a werewolf.
I couldn’t keep from grimacing hugely at that line. Chad was such a loser that I hated any suggestions that my sons were keeping in touch with him. What if Austinhadcalled? Chad knew my secret. Unfortunately. He would tell Austin what he knew.
But… that was okay, wasn’t it? After that night, it wasn’t as if I could hide my lupine side from my son. I didn’t necessarily want to anymore, anyway. It had mainly been when they’d been children that I’d wanted them to have normal lives. And I’d done my best to be a normalhumanmother, not a paranormal weirdo that they would end up in therapy over.
I haven’t called Dad yet,the letter continued.I don’t know if you know, but he’s kind of weird when it comes to you.
