you quite a bit. It's not too hard to block if you know how. Samuel can show you."
I looked at the white wolf sprawled out on the kitchen floor with Medea cleaning his face. Sam looked back at me with pale eyes ringed in black.
"I'll ask him," I promised.
"See you," he said, but continued in a rush. "Is Tuesday too soon?"
It was Saturday. If Samuel wasn't better by Tuesday, I could cancel. "Tuesday would be really good."
He hung up, and I asked Sam, "Can you teach me how to keep the pack out of my head?"
He made a sad noise.
"Not without being able to talk," I agreed. "But I promised Adam I'd ask." So I had three days to fix Samuel. And I felt like a traitor for . . . I hadn't really lied to Adam, had I? Raised among werewolves, who are living lie detectors, I'd long ago learned to lie with the truth nearly as well as a fae.
Maybe I had time to make brownies, too.
My cell phone rang, and I almost just answered it, assuming it was Adam. Some instinct of self-preservation had me hesitate and glance at the number: Bran's.
"The Marrok is calling," I told Samuel. "Think he'll wait three days? Me either." But I could delay him a little by not answering the phone. "Let's go work on some cars."
* * *
SAM SAT IN THE PASSENGER SEAT AND GAVE ME A sour look. He'd been mad at me since I put his collar on - but the collar was camouflage. It made him look more like a dog. Something domesticated enough for a collar, not a wild animal. Fear brings violence out in the wolves, so the fewer people who are scared of them, the better.
"I'm not going to roll the window down," I told him. "This car doesn't have automatic windows. I'd have to pull over and go around and lower it manually. Besides, it's cold outside, and unlike you, I don't have a fur coat."
He lifted his lip in a mock snarl and put his nose down on the dashboard with a thump.
"You're smearing the windshield," I told him.
He looked at me and deliberately ran his nose across his side of the glass.
I rolled my eyes. "Oh, that was mature. The last time I saw someone do something that grown-up was when my little sister was twelve."
* * *
AT THE GARAGE, I PARKED NEXT TO ZEE'S TRUCK, AND as soon as I got out of the car, I could hear the distinctive beat of salsa music. I have sensitive ears, so it was probably not loud enough to bother anyone in the little houses scattered among the warehouses and storage units that surrounded the garage. A little figure at the window waved at me.
I'd forgotten.
How could I have forgotten that Sylvia and her kids were going to be cleaning the office? Under normal circumstances, it wouldn't have been a problem - Samuel would never hurt a child, but we weren't dealing with Samuel anymore.
I realized that I'd gotten used to him, that I was still thinking of him as though he was only Samuel with a problem. I'd let myself forget how dangerous he was. Then again, he hadn't killedme yet.
Maybe if he stayed with me in the garage . . .
I couldn't risk it.
"Sam," I told the wolf, who'd followed me out of the car, "there are too many people here. Let's - "
I'm not sure what I was going to suggest, maybe a run out somewhere no one would see us. But it was too late.
"Mercy," said a high-pitched voice as the office door popped open with a roar of bongos and guitars, and Gabriel's littlest sister, Maia, bounced down the short run of steps and sprinted toward us. "Mercy, Mercy, guess what? Guess what? I am all grown-up. I am going to pretty school, and I - "
And that was when she caught a glimpse of Sam.
"Ooo," she said, still running.
Samuel is not bad-looking in his human form - but his wolf is pure white and fluffy. All he needed was a unicorn's horn to be the perfect pet for a little girl.
"Pretty school?" I asked, stepping forward and to the side, so I was between the werewolf and Maia. Maia stopped instead of bumping into me, but her eyes were on the wolf.
The next-oldest girl, Sissy, who was six, had emerged from the office a few seconds after her sister. "Mama says you can't run out of the