Bite Marks

She nodded, as if she understood how the warm blood pumping through her body tempted me even now. After she left I turned back to the wolf. Silver I did not have, but I thought I knew another way to finish him. Ah, if only he did not smell so damned—

“Jaz!”

I jerked my head, banging it against the tower so hard my ears rang. I looked down. Bergman stood at its base, his hand gripping the arm of Ruvin’s wife.

I signaled to Cole and Kyphas that I was heading down. As I climbed I told myself firmly, No. That’s all. Just, no. I’m not going nuts today. Okay, so now I can relive Vayl’s past. That’s fine. Some people are skilled fishermen. You don’t see them hurling themselves off water towers just because they know which lures to pick for the big tournament. I’ve just gotta figure out why I had that particular vision. The girl looked familiar, but I think she’s just reminding me of some young actress. So it’s the Were, right? I’m sure I’ve seen those yellow eyes somewhere before. Yeah, and those raggedy ass ears too. Vayl didn’t end up killing it after all. It survived. And now…

I reached the bottom rung. Felt the ground, solid beneath my feet. And grinned. Because I knew, strange as it sounded, that the wolf was Roldan, Sol of the Valencian Weres.

Which means he’s been alive a long damn time! Judging by Vayl’s clothes, that gig couldn’t have gone down any later than 1770. And I’ve never heard of a Were living longer than a hundred and fifty years. So what the hell’s gotten into him? Or should I say who?

Maybe Miles’s little buddy could tell me. I glanced at Astral, who sat quietly, whir/purring like she’d never spoken a word in her short, bizarre robolife. “Make sure you record this for the Enkyklios ,” I murmured to her. “Somebody might find it helpful in the future.” I’d never have known she heard me, except she glued her attention to Tabitha and never let her eyes waver from the shaman once during our entire conversation.

I said, “Tabitha, why aren’t you with your sons?”

“I… was looking for Ruvin,” she answered. “He’s turned off his phone. And that’s not like him. I was afraid…” She trailed off, maybe seeing the doubt in my eyes. I’d believe a lot of emotions from Tabitha.

Fear wasn’t one of them.

“What an interesting outfit you chose to wear for your hunt,” I told her, reaching out to rub the feathered collar of her knee-length tunic between my fingers. Beneath it she wore loose pants made from an animal she might have tanned herself they looked so primitive. The seams were sewn on the outside with a dark brown strip of leather strung every few inches with red and blue beads. Emu feathers hung from metal rings clamped into the pants at knee level.

Tabitha looked down at herself. “This is, ah, a traditional seinji pantsuit designed to hasten the conception process,” she said.

“Bullshit.”

Her eyes bugged. “I beg your pardon?”

“You know, something’s been bothering me from the start. I couldn’t put my finger on it because it seemed almost normal to me. And then I realized, that’s because I grew up with a bitch for a mother.” Her eyes darted to mine. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“No, I don’t guess you would. They never do. But, take my word for this, good moms never leave a dangerous situation ahead of their sons. During the rescue, you charged out of the warren first, with them running behind you trying to keep up. And back at the house, they should’ve run to you for comfort.

Instead they came to Ruvin and us. You know why? Because they’ve figured out, at some level, that you don’t give a crap about them.”

“You are out of line—”

“But here’s where I get a little fuzzy. Why, if you’re so disinterested in Laal and Pajo, are you so eager to have another baby?”

“I don’t think they’re actually hers,” said Bergman. “Remember their bone structure? How even and symmetrical their faces were? But Tabitha and Ruvin have long foreheads and chins. I think—”

“They’re adopted, all right?” Tabitha snapped. “They’re not even…” She started to say something, stopped, began again. “I just want a child of my own flesh. What’s so wrong with that?”

“Plenty, if you’re treating the other two like crap.” I wanted to shake her. I jerked my head at Miles. He still had a good grip; maybe he’d get the message. “I don’t know why you’re getting so wound up in this DNA bullshit. It doesn’t make for a happier family, believe me. I can point you to thousands of couples who’d give everything they own to raise a child that didn’t share their biology. So what’s your problem?”

“Ilda fra priladr neld! ” she growled.

Cole’s voice rose, excited, in my ear. “Jaz, she’s starting to curse you. Don’t let her finish it.” I nodded. I could feel the stirrings of power as well.

“What did you just say?” I asked.

“Echreada Ufran pilrat sritarnem, de aflor drmep sehike! ” she replied, almost smug, not realizing I had a translator listening in.

I grabbed the nearest handy piece of clothing, which happened to be Miles’s baseball cap, and slapped her with it. The rudeness of my interruption clipped her curse short, shocking her into silence. But not for long.

“How dare you strike me?” she cried. “I am Ufran’s chosen, the shaman of my people!”

“Tell me about that. How does a woman without a tail or a single spot of blue on her nose rise to the highest place of honor among her people?”