Mary Jo had been staring at Sam.
"His wolf is in control," she said, horrified.
"Has been for a couple of days," agreed Adam.
"No bodies yet." He didn't know about the fae at the bookstore .
.
.
but I wasn't sure the fae counted.
It had been a defensive killing rather than an uncontrolled killing spree, though Sam had nearly taken me as dessert afterward.
Sam met my eyes thoughtfully, and I realized that he seemed .
.
.
different, more expressive, than he had in Phin's bookstore--just as I was used to seeing Samuel's wolf.
I'd thought he was getting more aggressive earlier, but I could see that he'd also been becoming .
.
.
less Samuel, even less Sam.
Our little disaster might have bought us a little more time.
"Ah take it that the Marrok does not know about Samuel?" Warren broke the silence, sounding very cowboy, very laid- back--which was usually a sign that he wasn't.
"Sort of," I said.
"I told him he didn't want to know yet, and he believed me.
But only on the condition that I'd talk to Charles.
According to Charles, the good news is that if Samuel's wolf was more independent of him, he'd have started causing mayhem right away.
Bad news is that if we don't get Samuel out of his funk soon, his wolf is going to fade, too." As he had been doing.
"And we'll be left with a dead Samuel anyway, but only after a bonus of lots of other dead bodies." "A regular Vikin' funeral," commented Warren.
Mary Jo gave him a sharp look, which he returned.
"Ah can read, as long as they's lotsa good pictures," he said, speaking even slower than usual and using a lot more Texas- cowboy grammar.
"That's my line," I told Warren.
"I resent your stealing it." Ben laughed.
But then asked, "How is fading different from just having the wolf in control?" Wolves are blunt creatures, mostly impatient with the soft pedaling that the rest of the world considers politeness.
"I gather Sam will turn all fang and no brain and will eventually just fall over dead," I told them.