Healing of the Wolf - Cherise Sinclair Page 0,114

time and effort”. His self-esteem had been shredded. He had nightmares from what he’d witnessed. What he’d been forced to do.

She understood, oh, she totally did. And she’d help him all she could.

Although if he kept grumping in the backseat, she might turn around and smack him one.

“I hate the fucking human vehicles,” he muttered. “Go faster, sis.”

The sound of him scratching set off her own itches. She rubbed her arm vigorously before frowning at Tynan. “Why aren’t you itching?”

He shrugged. “I’m more immune than most to metal. It’s why I could survive in the city.”

“Oh.” She sure wasn’t immune and didn’t want to be in the car. At all. She studied the slow vehicle in front. “I need to go around—pass him. Right?”

“Aye. Turn on your signal, check the left lane with the back mirror and side mirror, then turn your head and look, as well.”

She followed instructions. “All clear.”

“Move out as you speed up and go around.”

Learning to drive a car was tricky. Everyone she’d watched made it look so easy. At least Tynan was incredibly patient. Donal…well, Donal wasn’t. Perhaps it was just as well that Donal was staying in Cold Creek until tomorrow. He’d said he didn’t want to leave the town without a healer for too long…but that was after Tynan mentioned she would be the driver on the way down.

As she completed the maneuver and returned safely to the right lane, she chuckled.

“What’s so funny about passing?” Oliver asked.

“It reminded me of my first drive down Main Street.” She’d practiced in the Wild Hunt parking lot and the tiny Wildwood Lodge lanes. Main Street had been her first experience with other cars, pedestrians, and stop signs. “The trouble is…Donal hates cars. He said Karl Benz and Henry Ford were hellhounds in human form.”

“Wait, wait, wait…” Behind her, Oliver was laughing his ass off. “You asked the healer to teach you? Are you suicidal?”

“He volunteered.” She sniffed. “Really, he was fine…until Irma Neilson and her dog stepped right in front of the car.” Thank the Mother someone had invented seatbelts.

“Mmmph. If you’d run over her fat poodle, you’d have had two people upset,” Tynan said in an odd voice. His hand was over his mouth, his shoulders shaking.

“You’re laughing.” She gave him a disgusted look.

“I’ll bite—what happened then?” Oliver choked out.

Margery rolled her eyes. “That Donal. He threw his hands in the air and said I was as unaware as a drunken dwarf during mead season. Thank the Gods the windows were up so Irma didn’t hear what he called her.”

Tynan was carefully looking out the window. “Mmmph.”

“Mmmph my tail. Our illustrious healer sounded like one of Emma’s preschoolers having a tantrum.”

Weird snorting sounds came from the back seat, and Margery almost grinned. Oliver hadn’t laughed like this since they were younglings. He sputtered out, “I’m going to tell Donal you said that. Oh yeah.”

“Don’t you dare, bear.” But she giggled. Her littermate sounded…normal. So normal. Carefully, she passed another slowpoke.

Tynan’s murmured, “Very well done,” made her beam.

Driving. I got this. No matter what Donal said.

Highway 9 gave way to smaller Highway 2, and then even narrower roads. The curves grew sharp as the land rose from foothills to mountains. Few vehicles traveled this road.

Probably other shifters.

“Slow down.” Tynan pointed to a tiny path through the grass. “Pull onto the shoulder there.”

When the car stopped, Tynan turned. “Oliver, can you take our packs to the clearing, please? The festival location is a short walk down that path. We’ll take the car and park it farther away.”

“Sure.” Oliver got out, sniffing the crisp mountain air. “It’ll be fun to explore around here.”

“Good enough.” Tynan opened the back and pulled out the soft packs. “We’ll see you later then…or will you be in the shifter-soldier meeting with Wells?”

“Nah, that’s tomorrow.” Oliver’s face tightened. The shifter-soldiers had been summoned by Arthur Wells, the human spymaster who was hunting the Scythe.

Margery was hoping he’d called them together to report that the entire Scythe organization had been eliminated.

I can hope, right?

As Oliver hefted the packs and headed down the trail, she looked around. No cars were parked in sight, although there was room for perhaps two vehicles on the shoulder. “No one else is here?”

“To avoid attention, everyone’s parking elsewhere on the road and hiking in through the forest.” He smiled at her. “Once we find a spot, we’ll shift and go furry. Maybe even find a sunny patch of grass to…enjoy.” His masculine voice held a suggestive growl, and

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