The History of Werewolves in America—Fad or Phase?
Straightening, I prowled through the house searching for her. She’d fled the shop seriously wounded, and I wouldn’t beable to sleep unless I knew she was okay. Even if she thought I’d gone to her shop to kill her.
I followed her scent to what I assumed was her bedroom. Pausing at the entrance, I waited but heard nothing except for the faint whir of a fan. It almost seemed like she was gone, but that couldn’t be right. Her car was in the driveway and her blood was dotted all over the concrete and porch. Evie was somewhere in this house.
Frowning, I stepped away from the door and explored the rest of the house, searching every room, but there was nothing except faint traces of her presence. When I went back to her bedroom door and searched again, I still couldn’t hear any breathing. But something told me she was in there.
I reached out and turned the handle.
Bloodstained, ruined clothing lay discarded on the floor, her sandals lying at opposite ends of the room. I moved further into the room and looked around. Her forest green comforter was darkened at the foot of the bed. I peered closer and inhaled. More blood. But the bed was empty. I moved toward the closet and peered inside, thinking maybe she had collapsed. Nothing there either.
A lamp on her dresser cast a warm, golden light over the room. If her living room and kitchen looked like a jungle, this place looked like a fairytale forest. Orchids of all types sat on multiple shelves and all over her nightstands. Vines curled through the blinds and around the curtain rods, some with fragrant purple blooms. She’d chosen a dark blue paint color, giving the bedroom a comforting, peaceful vibe.
Something in the heart I’d thought long frozen thawed. Had Evie lived a life of war and sought solace in the things she could control? A stack of books lay haphazardly on her nightstand, a mix of romance and mysteries, along with a glass carafe half filled with water. A Tiffany lamp sat beside it, the stained glassa mix of blue and emerald. She had about a dozen pillows scattered across her bed, and what looked like a hand knitted wool blanket that held an odd tinge of strange magic.
But where the hell was she? I spun in a circle, feeling her presence. She should be here, and yet, there was no trace of Evie, only the strong scent of her magic and her presence soaked into the very marrow of this house.
I sat on the edge of her bed, avoiding where she’d bled, and closed my eyes, opening all my senses. Once the room fell completely silent, a faint, tiny sound pricked my ears. The noise came from around her dresser.
Confused, I rose and went over to the old, scarred wooden dresser and looked around. A silver necklace with an acorn charm rested in an abalone shell. Next to it lay a leather necklace with a silver goat charm tied onto it. I’d never seen her wear either, but I’d only been in her shop a couple of times. A pair of leaf earrings lay next to the necklaces, and a wrap-around ring in the shape of a laurel wreath lay on top.
A half-burned candle, another small stack of books, and a vase of fresh-cut flowers sat in the middle. But on the edge, there was a small oval basket with part of a soft blanket hanging out. There. That was where all the magic came from.
I stepped over and peered down. My heart stopped in my chest.
The blue wren from the window lay there, deep in sleep. My mouth fell open. Evie was a shifter. Or something. I’d never seen someone who could shift into such a small form. With every ounce of magic in my body, I kept as quiet as I could as I studied her.
Opening my senses as wide as possible, I bent down and listened. The faintest sound of a rapid heartbeat was evident, but I had to strain to hear it. As I focused on her, I noticed shiny bitsreflecting the light. When I realized what it was, I swore under my breath.
Glass. Tiny shards of shimmering glass lay scattered all over the blanket and inside her body. I spun abruptly and on silent footsteps went into her bathroom and dug around until I found a pair of tweezers and a small cup. I set those down on her nightstand and picked up a small chair close to the window and set it beside the bed. Then I reached in gently and picked Evie up, along with her blanket, gently shaking the glass from the fabric, and knowing I wouldn’t wake her.
She might not be a full shifter, but she’d fallen into the deep, almost comatose, healing sleep all of us found when we’d been seriously injured.
Once I had settled into the chair, I placed her on my lap, careful not to jostle her too much. The human part inside me screamed I was violating her territory and if she found out, she would never speak to me again, but the voice was overshadowed by the snarling wolf screaming I must protect her.
The wolf always won.
I picked up the tweezers and gently spread one of Evie’s delicate wings out. She didn’t move an inch, still locked in sleep. Oh so carefully, I began picking glass out of her body, marveling at the delicate bones and soft feathers.
It took me a couple of hours to find every single piece of glass, and when I was finished, I gently tucked Evie’s blanket back into the basket and set her in the middle, going by memory to ensure nothing was different from when I arrived.
Once I put the tweezers away, I folded the small paper cup full of glass over and tucked it into my pocket. When I stood at the back door, I did one more sweep to ensure I wasn’t being observed and sent a pulse of magic through her house, wiping my scent and my presence from the area.
Later, when I stood on the small hill overlooking her house, I sank to the ground and buried my face in my hands. Where we’d be tomorrow, I couldn’t say, but tonight had escalated so far out of my control, I couldn’t think about it without feeling a deep sense of shame. She’d be well within her rights to never see me again.
But I’d do everything in my power to ensure that wouldn’t happen.
And the thought bothered me more than I could say.
Chapter
Sixteen
Iawoke much sooner than I expected, still in my wren form. Rising, I stretched my wings, expecting a tugging pain.
But there was nothing. No pain, only a delicious stretch. Confused, I looked around my basket, expecting to see a pile of broken glass shards, but there was nothing there either.
I hopped onto the edge of the basket before leaping off and onto my bed, shifting as I landed. A deep sigh escaped me, and I lay there for a moment, staring at the ceiling.
