Chapter 13

When the intrepid wolves returned from the superstore, I gave them a quiet rundown on Beverley. Johnny made lasagna while Celia and I went off to get the air mattress set up.

Dr. Lincoln was a no-show so far, and he didn’t answer his phone. Theo moaned despite the morphine that was supposed to keep her sedated. “If only she could change,” Celia said. “All this damage would mend in the transition.”

Celia traced a finger down Theo’s arm. I thought about skin—about how superficial it is, yet how it holds all our parts together. People’s personalities, their souls, are in there too, but something more than skin held those in.

For too long I’d allowed myself to see only the surface of so many people around me. Maybe I was that shallow.

No, that wasn’t true. Ever since college, though, I’d tried to keep everyone from seeing anything other than my surface. My skin was a wall, a shield, protecting me. Protecting my heart. But that protection came, I now realized, with a cost. If I didn’t let people see inside me, see past my surface, then I couldn’t see deeper into them.

I wanted to think I was doing better. I was seeing the man inside Johnny. The man who cared, the man who kenneled alone.

Celia touched my arm. She was a touchy-feely person. More so now, as a wære, than ever before, but her hands were warm and comforting even in that small gesture. “You okay?”

Relaxing, I said, “Yeah. If we can just buy her some time, she’ll change and she’ll be fine.” We crossed the hall to the bathroom to wash our hands before dinner.

“Three weeks is a long time,” she said, “but we’re going to do everything we can. With all of us here, I do feel more hopeful.” She exhaled as we dried our hands. “I could use a drink, though.”

“There’s some beer hidden in the garage.”

“Hidden?”

It was my turn to shrug. “I didn’t want to listen to Nana gripe about it.”

“Gripe about what?” Nana asked, stepping into the doorway.

“All these people in the house,” Celia said quickly. “But you don’t mind us, do you? We really are trying to be respectful.”

Nana pursed her lips. “The noises you and that man were making upstairs last night weren’t very respectful.”

Celia’s eyes went wide and her face flushed instantly crimson.

“Nana!”

“It wasn’t.” She waved her hand at us. “Move. I have to use the toilet.”

Celia and I made a hasty exit, but paused at the top of the stairs to share a glance that turned into a laugh as we went down to the kitchen. Beverley was having Oreos and being entertained by Johnny, who was currently balancing an antique bud vase on his chin.

“Is that how you got that adorable cleft?” Celia asked.

He jerked, caught the vase as it fell, and grinned as he rubbed the little dimple in his chin, almost hidden in the stubble. “Nope. I think I was born with this angel kiss.” He put the bud vase back on the window ledge. When he turned back, his expression and manner were serious. “Theo?”

“Moaning a little,” Celia said. “Morphine may be wearing off a little early.”

“Did you ever get through to the doc?” I asked him.

“Still no answer. But Feral called.” His expression was grim.

“Feral” Jones, the bassist in Johnny’s band, had once been Theo’s boyfriend and had initially brought her here to kennel. They’d separated as friends, but they still shared a cage in the storm cellar on full moons. I’d have thought that the arrangement made him still her boyfriend, but they didn’t act as if it did. “What’d he say?”

“Someone sacked both Theo’s condo and Revelations.”

“When?” Celia asked.

“This morning for the condo. Neighbors heard things falling and breaking and called 911. They trashed everything and left before police could arrive. It seems that they got to Revelations right after she left yesterday and broke in there. A lawyer from the office across the hall came back to catch up on some work. Saw the door standing open and the mess when she arrived. Called it in.”

We were speechless.

Hands fisted at his sides, Johnny said, “That’s why the cops were at the hospital. They knew. They’d already connected the break-in and the accident.”

“It was her phone that rang,” Celia said. “I heard a phone ring when they were prepping her for surgery. I was in the hall…thought it was a nurse taking her own call, but what they said…I thought it was weird at the time, but I bet the police were trying to locate her about the break-in. Her cell phone must have been in her purse, and I know they kept those things with her in the room…”

Johnny’s right fist smacked into his left palm. “Someone did this to her purposely. The cops were digging for who and why, but when they found out she was a wære, they split. Crimes don’t matter if the victim is infected.”

My insides sank. I had done this to her. My questions. If they had sacked Revelations, did they know about me? Had Theo left a note on her bill for me: Background on Goliath Kline?

“Is that true?” Beverley asked softly. “About wæres?”

We adults threw glances at one another like hot potatoes.

“Yeah,” Johnny said, then added, “I’m sorry.”

Beverley shot out of her chair. As she passed me, her brimming tears fell.

Johnny looked at me, face pained. “Aw, shit. I didn’t mean to…” Johnny said.

“I know.” I went after her. “Beverley.”

She darted up the steps and nearly ran into Nana coming from the bathroom. “Sorry,” she cried as she ran into the room she’d be sharing with me.

Nana asked, startled, “What’s going on now?”

“Don’t worry, I’ve got it.” I slipped past Nana and entered the bedroom, shutting the door behind me. “Beverley.”

She stood facing the corner with her arms wrapped tightly around herself, shoulders jumping as she cried. “Whoever killed my mom will get away with it, won’t they? The police won’t do anything because she was…was infected.”

“Beverley.” I realized I didn’t have a clue what to say. Of all the people in the house, she was the last one I would tell what I’d agreed to do in order to try to right this wrong.

Beverley turned and threw herself against me, hugging me and crying. “It’s not fair! It’s not fair! My mom was a good person and I loved her and I want her back!”

Holding her tight was all I could do. I said, “I know you do. I know.”

After dinner, I tucked Beverly in.

“How is she?” Johnny asked when I came back to the kitchen. He’d been cleaning up, and he flipped the dish towel over his shoulder.

“Sleeping.”

“I wasn’t thinking. I feel like an ass.”

Sliding onto the bench at the table, I said, “It’s a harsh truth, but one she’d have to learn about sooner or later anyway. Dancing around it won’t help her.” I paused. “Celia with Theo? I’m shirking my shift.”

“No. I gave her a glass of wine and sent her out on the front porch.”

“Wine?”

“Can’t cook Italian without wine.”

There wasn’t anything drinkable here. “You gave her cooking sherry?”

“No. I got some good stuff.” He shifted the dish towel over his forearm and took a bottle from the cabinet. Holding it over his arm like a waiter, he asked in a French accent, “Would Mademoiselle care for a drink?”

I couldn’t help smiling. “Sure.” He poured from the fancily labeled bottle and brought it to me. It was rich and smooth. “Mmmm. Why didn’t you serve us this with dinner?”

“Aw, with the kid present, I wasn’t sure it would be right.”

Some guys make references to children in derogatory terms, but Johnny’s tone made his words affectionate. He was so sensitive to Beverley’s situation that it made me soften a little more toward him. I could almost feel it physically. Warmth spread over me, and I quickly said, “I’m going to take this glass up to Theo’s room, where I should be anyway, and relax in my window seat with a book. Thanks.”