Bewitched (Betwixt & Between #2) - Darynda Jones Page 0,40

and learn, right?

“You used the closest living creature near us.”

“And that would be?” I braced myself. Literally. Against the sink.

“A mouse.”

I blinked.

“There must have been one under the stove or under the floorboards.” Nette almost squealed.

It had happened in the kitchen, so that made sense. “I made you from a mouse? Because the laws of physics—”

“Don’t apply,” she said.

“Good thing Ink wasn’t around.” Annette snickered. “Oh! Can you shapeshift into a mouse like Roane can a wolf?”

“I’ve had a couple of very long conversations with Roane about that. It took him years, and I think something triggered it.”

“Probably puberty,” I teased.

“I think that’s it exactly.”

“He told you that?”

“Not in so many words. He just said he was thirteen the first time he shifted.”

“Poor guy. To go through all of that alone, not knowing what happened to him.”

“I think we’re all forgetting something very important here,” Annette said.

Ruthie and I looked at her.

“What does any of this have to do with a dead boy licking Deph’s fingers?”

“I think it was Roane,” Ruthie answered.

Okay, there was some potential here for the whole dead boy thing becoming less disturbing. “What makes you say that?”

“After you brought me back, I was connected to you in your dreams as well. I still am.”

I turned toward her. “You were the light. You helped Percy keep the warlock from finding me.”

“I did. Only a little. Your grandfather did most of the heavy lifting.”

“So, you think Roane came into my dreams and licked my fingers.”

“Of course,” Annette said in an aha moment. “He thought he was still a wolf cub. He would absolutely lick you to show affection.”

We all stopped and let that sink in.

“Is it just me or is this room a little warm?” I asked. “And a little crowded?”

They both fanned themselves, feeling the heat as well.

Ruthie led me out of the bathroom and back to the bed, and we both sat.

Annette tagged along. “Did you think like a mouse when you materialized, Ruthie? Because that would be crazy.”

“No, but a part of me knew, if that makes sense.”

“I think the real question is”—I narrowed my eyes—“did you crave cheese?”

A hiccup of laughter escaped her before she could stop it. “I did have a sudden desire for Cheez-its.”

After a solid round of teasing, Annette left for her room, which I had yet to actually see. We’d decided to order takeout, but not till later, still satiated from our delicious lunch.

After telling me the chief was dropping by to check on things, Ruthie retreated back to her chamber under the stairs.

I’d wanted to ask her what was going on, why she didn’t want to see him, but she’d seemed tired. No, exhausted. I could only hope bringing her out of the veil hadn’t damaged her in some way. Although the fatigue had only hit when she’d mentioned Houston.

As for me, I went into the bathroom again. Looking into the mirror, I gave up on the pep talk and studied my reflection. My dark hair, only mildly ravaged after the girls-gone-wild session earlier, fell back to reveal skin that was ghostly pale, eyes that were feverishly bright.

But that’s not why I barely recognized myself. I’d aged twenty years over the last twenty years. It was so unfair to feel like a late-twenty-something and be stuck in a forty-something body. I leaned forward and whispered, “What kind of woman are you, Defiance Dayne?”

Was I the kind of woman who ran from a fight?

Yes.

Yes, I was.

Was I the kind of woman who let down her family and friends? Who abandoned them and put their lives in danger? Was I the kind of woman who ignored other people’s suffering? I thought about all of those messages. All those people asking for my help. Then I lifted my chin.

No.

No, I was not.

After yet another shower—I just couldn’t seem to get the stench of lethargy out of my hair—I donned my favorite black maxi dress, an oversized button-down that was barely one step up from a robe, and threw on a pair matching black slouch socks. It was getting cold out, and I needed to snuggle up with a good book and a cup of hot chocolate as the fall weather demanded.

One quick hair check later—wet with an eighty percent chance of tangles—I descended the stairs in search of a big bad wolf. I wanted to know more about what happened to him. What it was like to suddenly become a boy. Or a wolf, depending on one’s perspective. Did he know his