in knots. Vampires and werewolves did not get along. Would Royce consider me his enemy now?
That thought once would have frightened me. Now, it filled me with an empty sort of sadness, not what I expected to feel upon realizing that we might be playing on opposite sides of the supernatural sandbox. I’d used his name to hurt Chaz, but in truth the vampire had been a better friend to me than the Sunstrikers ever had. Considering his needs, Royce might even have a doctor in his pocket who wouldn’t mind doing some off-the-books testing.
That was probably nothing more than wishful thinking on my part. The bond we shared had faded but never completely broken. My ability to view him as nothing more than a callous beast had been skewed after drinking his blood. I still felt he was a prick at times, but he no longer frightened or repulsed me—which was exactly why I made such a strenuous effort to avoid him. Thanks to the bond, it was too easy to see him as a man, not a monster. If I allowed it, I’d be no more than another puppet dancing to the tune he played.
I’d put off calling him until later. Much as I dreaded it, I needed to tell Arnold first. He needed to hear it from me instead of through his connections in the supernatural community.
The big question was whether he would do as I asked and keep my new condition a secret from Sara.
With no small measure of trepidation, I got the mage’s number from an old e-mail stored in my computer, picked up my cordless, and dialed him.
Chapter 25
Arnold picked up after a couple rings.
“Arnold, it’s Shia.”
“Hey, how was the trip? Are you home?”
His cheerful greeting made me feel even worse for what I was about to say. Gripping the phone tightly, I wandered over to the window and peered between some cracks in the perpetually drawn blinds. Ever since the paparazzi had decided my personal life was of interest, I’d needed to be extra vigilant about keeping the interior of my apartment closed off from prying eyes and long-range cameras.
Which was a sudden, frightening reminder that Jim Pradiz had been intent on a story at the beginning of my trip. Had he caught wind of anything at the lodge? Followed us back to the city?
“Shia?”
“Sorry,” I said, shaking my head and gripping my free hand into a tight fist. “I’ve got a situation—”
“Oh, hell. You didn’t break my computer, did you?”
I paused. Tragic as the loss was, his busted computer wasn’t what I was worried about at the moment. Time to use some evasive tactics.
“That’s not what I’m calling about. Are you alone? Sara’s not with you, right?”
“No, she’s on a job. I’m at home. What is it?” The alarm in his voice was palpable. Little I could do about it at this juncture. “I can keep a secret, Shia, but I can’t promise she won’t find out some other way. She’s a good P.I.”
“I’m not just talking about Sara here. No one can know this. Not your coven, not Sara, not my family—no one.”
“Yeesh, what’d you do? Blow up a building?”
“I’m not kidding around. They absolutely cannot find out from you under any circumstances. Understand? I need your word.”
“All right, I get it. I’ll keep it secret, whatever it is.”
I examined the bloody crescents my nails left in my palm before speaking, the words coming in a rush. “Last night, one of the Sunstrikers scratched me while turned. I may be one of them next month—I might be infected. There’s no way to know yet. Not for sure. I can’t let my family find out, not until I know.”
It felt a bit like running a marathon to get all that out. Aside from my somewhat heavy breathing, the silence dragged between us.
I couldn’t stand it. “Jesus, Arnold, say something.”
“Christ,” he breathed, and I gathered from the shuffling and scraping coming through the line that he’d settled—perhaps collapsed is a better word—into a chair. “Are you sure? You—I—have you gone to the hospital or made an appointment to get tested yet?”
“No. I spoke with Rohrik Donovan, and he didn’t recommend it.”
“Rohrik Donovan? No shit.” He paused. Exploded. “Jesus Christ, Shia, how did it happen? Are you okay?”
“No,” I said, fighting the tears that suddenly threatened. His concern was shattering my careful control. “I mean, I’m not hurt too badly, but I might be a fucking werewolf next month. I’m not okay. There’s nothing