There was a sharp knock on the door, and Darryl said, "Ben." He made no move to answer it, but it popped open anyway and Ben stuck his head in.
His blond hair looked almost white illuminated by the porch light.
He glanced at Stefan and said in his nifty British accent, "Bloody hell.
He's in bad shape." But his attention was all for my mother.
"She's married," I warned him.
"And if you call her a rude name, she'll shoot you with her pretty pink gun and I'll spit on your grave." He considered me a moment and started to open his mouth.
Adam said, "Ben.
Meet Mercy's mother, Margi." Ben paled, closed his mouth, and opened it again.
But nothing came out.
I didn't think Ben was used to meeting mothers.
"I know." I sighed.
"She looks like my younger, better-looking sister.
Mom, this is Ben.
Ben is a werewolf from England, and he has a foul mouth when Adam's not around to ride herd on him.
He's saved my life a couple of times.
Against the wall is Darryl, werewolf, genius, Ph.D., and Adam's second.
Peter, also a werewolf, is the nice man feeding Stefan." And after that, the awkwardness set in.
Darryl wasn't talking.
Ben, after one more bemused look at Mom, kept his head down and his mouth shut.
Peter was obviously distracted by the feeding vampire.
Adam was staring at Stefan with a worried frown.
He knew what Stefan's first words had meant, too.
But he couldn't talk to me about it in front of my mom until I did.
And I wasn't going to let her know that Marsilia and her vampires were after me.
Not unless I had to.
Mom wanted to ask me about ...
about the incident last week.
About Tim and how he died.
But she wouldn't ask me about anything until everyone else was gone.
Me? I'd just as soon not talk about any of it.