“Glow isn’t a good indicator,” Doolittle said. “Hyena eyes reflect light in any number of colors, yet bouda eyes always glow red. But the slit pupil is interesting.” He glanced at Jim.
“There was a man on the roof,” I said. “She knocked him off. Is he okay?”
Jim nodded. “He says the same thing: scales, red eyes, tail. I’ve smelled a similar scent before.”
“What was it?”
Jim grimaced. “A croc.”
Shapeshifter crocodiles. What was the world coming to?
“Stranger things have happened.” Doolittle pointed at my glass. “Drink.”
I showed the glass to Jim. “The good doctor put a spoon of tea into my honey.”
“You’re drinking tea a honey badger made,” Jim said. “What did you expect?”
Doolittle snorted and began packing gauze and instruments into his medical bag.
“If you didn’t put her on me, then who did?”
“I don’t know,” Jim said.
It wasn’t Curran. Security was Jim’s territory; if Curran felt I needed a bodyguard, he would have asked Jim to take care of it.
Curran. Oy.
“Where are we?” I asked.
“One of the Clan Wolf’s satellite houses,” Jim said. “The Wolf Clan House is outside the city, but they have a few rallying points in Atlanta’s limits. This was the closest.”
“And Curran?”
“At the Keep.”
“Did you tell him about this?”
“Not yet. Is there anything more you have to tell me?”
“No.”
He showed no signs of moving. “Is there anything you want to tell me?”
Cat and spy master, lethal combination. “No. What makes you think that?”
Jim leaned back. “You’re a lousy liar.”
“That’s true.” Doolittle rolled up his stethoscope. “I’ve played poker with you, young lady, and the whole table knew every time you got a good card.”
“Deception makes you uncomfortable,” Jim said. “It works for you on the street, because when you promise to hurt someone, there is no doubt in anyone’s mind that you mean it. But if you came to me for an assignment, I’d fire you after the first minute.”
“Fine. I’m a bad liar.” I looked at Jim from above the rim of my glass. “That doesn’t mean I’m hiding something. Maybe there is nothing more to that story.”
“You’ve put the glass between yourself and me and you’re keeping it pressed against your mouth so the words don’t get out,” Jim said.
I put the glass down.
“Is it an Order thing?” Jim asked.
“No, it’s my thing. It has no relevance to the Pack.”
“Okay,” Jim said. “If things change and you want to tell me or if you need help, you know how to find me.”
He got up and walked out.
I looked at Doolittle. “Why the sudden goodwill?”
“Who knows why cats do things. My guess is you taking a blade for him may have something to do with it . . .” Doolittle raised his head and grimaced. “They just can’t leave well enough alone.”
A knock sounded through the basement.
“Who is it?” Doolittle called.
“I’ve come to see the patient!” a woman’s voice called.
“Is she naked?” another female voice asked. “I always wanted to see her naked.”
“Shush. George, will you keep me standing here all day?”
I looked at Doolittle. “Is that who I think it is?”
He bristled and headed to the door.
Besides Curran, two shapeshifters in the Pack gave me pause: Mahon, the Bear of Atlanta and the Pack’s executioner, and Aunt B, alpha of the boudas and Raphael’s mother. The rest were dangerous, but those two made me take a moment or two and think things through before I blundered on. I’d seen Aunt B in action with her human skin off. Blowing her off wasn’t in my best interests no matter how pissed off or weak I was.
“You’re looking very fine, George,” Aunt B said. Craning my head to see the two of them would destroy what little semblance of dignity I had left, so I stayed put.
“What do you want?” Despite Doolittle’s Coastal Georgia Southern accent, the good doctor’s voice lost all of its charm.
“Why, to see Kate, of course.”
“The girl has a concussion. Your scheming can wait until her mind is clear.”
“I’m not here to take advantage of her, George. My goodness.”
I craned my neck. Doolittle barred the doorway, his finger pointing to the first floor above us. “Up there you are the alpha of the boudas. Down here is
“Why don’t you ask the girl if she wants to see me? If she is too weak or uneasy, I will come back another time.”
And she just outmaneuvered us both. If I refused to see her now, I might just as well stand on my bed with a giant neon sign: I’M AFRAID OF AUNT B.
Doolittle came up to my bed. “The boudas wish to speak to you. You don’t have to say yes.”
Doolittle looked up. “Thirty minutes, Beatrice.”
Aunt B swept in. Behind her a young female bouda carried a platter. The aroma of spices and cooked meat swirled around me, instantly filling my mouth with drool. Hunger was good. It meant Doolittle’s spells were working and my body was burning through nutrients at an accelerated rate.
The young bouda set the platter on my bed, stuck her tongue out at me, and departed.
Aunt B glanced at Doolittle. “Would you mind giving us a bit of privacy?”
He growled under his breath and stalked out.
Aunt B pulled up a chair and sat by my bed. In her late forties or early fifties, she looked like a typical young grand-mother: a bit plump, with an easy smile and kind eyes that would convince a child in trouble to pick her out of a crowd of strangers. She wore a bulky gray sweater. Her brown hair sat in a bun atop her head. If she added a platter of cookies, she’d be all set.
She greeted me with a warm smile. You’d never know that behind that smile waited a seven-foot-tall monster with claws the size of cake forks.
“You seem on edge, dear,” she said. “How badly were you injured?”
Hi, Grandma, what big teeth you have . . . “Nothing major.”
“Ah. Good then.” She nodded at the platter. Beef, pita bread, and Tzatziki sauce. “Help yourself. Lunch is on me.”
Not to take a bite would be an insult. To take a bite might obligate me to something and I’d rather be in debt to the devil than to Aunt B. I settled for sipping my tea. “You aren’t propositioning me, are you?”
“Funny you should say that.”
I paused with a glass in my hand. Just what I need.
“It won’t be that kind of proposition.” Aunt B gave me a bright smile.
I squished a shudder.
“I’ll come straight to the point to make things easier on both of us.” Aunt B pushed the plate to me. “Curran didn’t return to the Keep last night. I’m neither blind nor stupid and I’ve spent more years sorting out shapeshifter lies than you’ve been alive. Please keep that in mind before you answer. Did he spend the night?”
Putting claws to my throat was never a good idea. I smiled. “None of your business.”
“So he did. Did he use the word ‘mate’?”
