of the woodwork this week.”
We had to stop talking to place our orders, going down the line to customize our burritos and quesadillas, but while we were waiting to pay, I asked Elise what she meant.
She made a face. “Nothing, I’ve just had two shifts in a row where I had to take a guy to the psych ward at BCH.”
“Homeless people?” I didn’t want to pigeonhole, but the homeless led really difficult lives. Elise had told us before that some of them acted crazy now and then to get a warm bed for a few nights. Then again, it was May.
“One was, but the other was just some dude, like twenty-six, decent job, girlfriend.”
We collected our food and made our way to a table in the front, but not too close to the windows. My cousins automatically gave me the seat against the wall, a tiny courtesy that never failed to move me. “So what made him a nutjob?” Anna asked, looking curious.
“He just sort of lost it. Raving, waving his arms around, frothing at the mouth, trying to attack anyone who came near him.” She reached up and pulled back her bangs, displaying a small purplish bruise. “I got this when he backhanded me.”
Anna made a sympathetic noise without putting down her quesadilla. I hurried to swallow my own bite of veggie burrito so I could ask Elise, “Did you say frothing at the mouth?”
“Yeah, you know, white spittle. I’ve been spit on before, but this was very . . . dramatic.”
My brow furrowed. Could this be related to the animal attacks? For the first time since Lily had used the word “rabies,” I wondered if the crazy animals might have a connection to the Old World after all. I made a mental note to ask Simon as soon as possible. Meanwhile, there could still be a garden-variety scientific explanation.
“You should talk to Jake,” I said to Elise. “He’s seen a few animals with some weird virus that made them do the same thing. One of them was a fox that trashed my basement. Maybe it’s related.”
Elise looked skeptical. “Isn’t it like, next to impossible for humans and mammals to get the same diseases?”
I shrugged. “What’s the harm? It’s not like Jake’s gonna yell at you for asking.”
Elise snorted at the idea of Jake yelling at anyone for anything, but she agreed to give him a call. We spent another twenty minutes gossiping about the family. Our cousin Brie was having another baby, which no one had really seen coming. Elise’s younger brother Paul had recently decided to move to New York to pursue his music, and my aunt and uncle were not thrilled. In their defense, pretty much all of the Luthers had settled within an hour of where we were sitting. We’d all gotten spoiled by family dinners, well-attended celebrations, and a complicated, good-humored tangle of exchanged favors for childcare, pet sitting, and the lifting of heavy objects. It was weird to think of one of us moving away for good.
After spending the whole afternoon thinking about Emil Jasper, this casual time with my cousins was a nice reminder that I already had a place where I belonged.
Well, as long as I didn’t tell them any details about my job, my new friends, or my boyfriend.
Anna announced that she had to pee and took off for the restaurant’s iffy bathroom. While we waited, Elise surprised me by asking if Quinn and I wanted to go out to dinner with her and Natalie sometime. “Nat really likes you, and I’d like to get to know Quinn,” she said.
My thoughts briefly tripped up on the idea that someone else at the police department liked me. Then I absorbed what she was asking. “Uh . . .”
“I—uh, that’s really nice, but I’m not sure,” I stammered.
Elise gave me a concerned look. “You never bring him to family stuff. You guys are still together, right?”
Before we were really dating, I had brought Quinn to my dad’s sixtieth birthday party, months ago. But my family hadn’t had any contact with him since, and for good reason. I gave Elise the same statement I’d given everyone in the family for six months now. “Yeah, we’re together, but it’s pretty casual.”
Unlike my parents or my other cousins, however, Elise wouldn’t take my word for it. She raised an eyebrow, putting on what the rest of us called her cop face. “Is he married?”
“What?” I cried, genuinely insulted. “Of course not! How could you