I'd always wondered whether, if I had been a werewolf instead of a coyote, my foster father would have reconsidered his decision to follow his mate in death.
But when Adam said he was glad I wasn't a werewolf, it sounded like he meant it.
"I wouldn't change a hair on your head," he told me.
"Now, go get the notebook and write it all down before I die of curiosity." "I will if you eat." He obligingly took another bite, so I rummaged through his closet until I found the briefcase.
He scooted over, making Medea protest until he scooped her into his lap so I could sit on the edge of the bed.
While I sat beside him and wrote down everything I could think of, he finished all but half a sandwich ("Yours," he said.
"Eat.") and fell asleep while I was still writing.
I finished.
"Adam?" He didn't move, but I noticed that his hands were looking better.
His pack was behind him again--for the moment at least.
Or maybe it was just the way his magic chose to work this time.
People who try too hard to explain how magic works end up in funny farms.
I added "Sweet Dreams" at the bottom of the last page and left the notebook beside him.
I slipped out of the bedroom and closed the door.
I hadn't taken two steps before my phone rang.
It was Zee.
"Get somewhere you won't be overheard," he said.
I stepped through the open door of Jesse's room--which was empty--shut the door, and turned on the music again.
Adam was sleeping like the dead; it might last five minutes or several hours.
No one else would hear anything.
"Okay." "I know you can't talk to me about the woman who took our Gabriel," Zee said.
"So you'll just have to hear me out." "I'm listening." "I have Phin's grandmother here, and we need to talk.
But no werewolves." "Why is that?" It wasn't about the kidnapping, so I figured it was a safe thing to say without ticking off the fairy queen.
"Because she's scared to death of them, was nearly killed by them.
She can't even look at one without a panic attack.
And you don't want to be around this lady when she has a panic attack." I wondered if I'd have been as sympathetic if I didn't have my own panic attacks.
"Fine.
Where?" "Good question.
Your house is no more," he said.
"She doesn't live here, so she doesn't have a place.