A Wolf After My Own Heart MaryJanice Davidson (children's ebooks online .txt) 📖

“Well, I do. More than one, even! Look, you know me,” she whined.

“I thought I did.”

“Oh my God, I’m going to beat you to death. You know I don’t think Shifters are superior. I think we’re all—”

“Separate but equal?”

“Dammit!” Annette practically howled.

“Children,” Mama Mac cut in. “Since there’s nothing to be done about Roy’s current tenant—”

“I wouldn’t say that.” From Annette, who’d calmed down and was now staring hopefully at the pie earmarked for Caro and Dev. “They never stay very long, Stables or Shifters.” She glanced around at the table. “We all know why.”

Oz snorted. “Then why are you saying it?”

“That’s true, m’dear, but that curly gal’s here for—damn, I’ve forgotten her—”

“It’s Lila,” Oz broke in at once. “Lila Kai. From Bloomington, Illinois.” At their inquiring looks, he elaborated. “Her old address is on the boxes of eyes and arms.”

“Boxes, plural?”

“Yep.”

“Of eyes?”

“And arms.”

“Good God.” Annette shook off the horror—literally shook—and then pushed her bangs out of her eyes. He’d never tell her, but her deep brown waves and white highlights were a striking mess. And no matter how many haircuts she had, she always looked about a month overdue for one, which should’ve made her look like an unkempt slob but somehow didn’t. He and the few who knew her secret—she was probably the only polar–grizzly were in the world—liked knowing her hair was the giveaway, out there for everyone to see if they bothered to pay attention. Multiple deceased bad guys hadn’t, Exhibit A for why they were deceased.

“All right, let’s stay on point,” she was saying, because she wasn’t just a polar–grizzly hybrid, she was a relentless polar–grizzly hybrid. “Though I have to admit that’s a fascinating segue, and we might circle back to it. Boxes of eyes and arms. What do we do about this Lila Kai? If we need to do anything. This could be premature fretting,” Annette added, waving her fork to encompass him, Mama Mac, the kitchen, the house, the neighborhood. “She may not know.”

“She definitely knows.”

“You’ve got no proof.”

“Annette, she one hundred percent knows. This is not a stupid woman. The Vexin kits flagged her down and saw her pick Sally up in the ally. Because of course the most curious kits in town happened to be there when this mess started. On a school night, but that’s a whole other issue. And before you ask,” he added, though neither woman had opened her mouth, “they had no idea the new neighbor was Stable until it was too late.”

Annette nodded. “Unfortunate timing, I agree. But Oz, did Lila see Sally shift back?”

“She—she must have.”

“Which you’re assuming because…”

“She was ready for anything. Both times!” He sighed, remembering. “It was so cool.”

“Right. In other words, you’ve got no idea what she saw. And so the situation may well be salvageable.”

“How then?” From Mama Mac, who had gotten up to put the pie back in the fridge, ignoring Annette’s pained whimper. “It’s not like we can ask her if she knows Sally’s a werebear.”

Oz laughed. “Yeah, there’s no way to slip ‘did you see a werebear on your block, where you’re surrounded by Shifters, and also everyone in the neighborhood is keeping a wary eye on you, how ’bout some tea’ into a conversation.”

“The boy’s right.”

“Almost thirty, Ma.”

“And even if we did ask her, she could lie. Roy and I gave her every opportunity to tell us what really happened last night.” Mama dimpled as an unwilling grin crossed her face. “She was bland as bread, telling us to our faces that everything was normal. We didn’t know what to think.”

“And she wasn’t scared!” Oz put in.

Mama Mac shook her head. “Not a whit.”

“Maybe she’s a squib?”

“Or a sociopath,” Annette muttered.

“Or both,” she and Oz said in accidental unison, because Annette had the misfortune of meeting a sociopathic squib last year. It hadn’t been fun. For anyone. It was part of the reason poor Sally Smalls was in such a mess: the dead sociopath had partners.

Oz shifted in his seat. Now or never. Wait! What happened to NOT bringing it up? “Listen!” He lowered his voice. “Uh. While you’re both here.”

After a few seconds, Annette prompted, “Yes?”

That was as far as he’d gotten in his head. The absurdity of what he wanted to ask was almost overwhelming. It was like asking if Santa Claus was a thing. Because the answer was maddening: of course Santa wasn’t a thing. Except when he was. It depended how you defined “Santa.” And “thing.”

“So congratulations on getting engaged to David.”

Annette just blinked at him, probably because there had been an announcement months ago. And a party. And a clean-up party because things had gotten a smidge out of hand. (To this day, Oz had no idea how David got all that maple syrup out of his fur.) Since then, wedding plans had proceeded exactly as expected: with Annette protesting all of it and pushing for elopement, Annette’s partner Nadia insisting the bride wear a Dior original (and put her bridesmaids in same), Mama Mac insisting they ditch caterers so she could be the one to cook for two hundred people (then changing her mind, then changing it back again), Annette declaring she would kill or die to avoid dealing with two hundred people, and David adding still more Stables to the guest list.

Because that was the other thing. David had Stable friends. A lot of them. Not the kind you sometimes hung out with because they were reasonably cool or had the same taste in movies or played Halo online together. Given how outnumbered Shifters were, it was pretty weird if you didn’t have at least one Stable pal.

No, Davey-boy grew up with Stables who knew—and kept—the secret of his other self. His default was to trust them. And his argument was compelling: his friends had had years to burn him and hadn’t. So they were true, safe friends. As “safe” as any member of homo sapiens could be, at least. Annette had