Now here’s the rest of it: all werewolves are Pack. Like tribal courts for Native Americans, we have civil and criminal jurisdiction over all our Pack members. For us, it doesn’t matter where it goes down or who-all else is involved—if a werewolf gets mixed up in it, Pack steps in and the law sides with whatever we decide.”
I clear my throat. “That’s some power.” I rub Ginny’s back.
Finn watches me comforting her, and nods. “Yeah, it is. And we also exercise jurisdiction when it comes to custody issues for all Pack children.” He tips his head at Ginny. “Now that we know she exists, she’s ours. We get full say over where she goes and who has access to her, her own mother included.” He takes a breath. “If you want to take her on as your own, you can.”
Out of my periphery, Charlotte’s head whips to the side, her eyes slamming onto my face. Imploring.
Against me, Ginny has gone still, her arms gripping me like I might shove her away otherwise.
“Ginny has always been welcome to stay, and if she can legally make it binding, then it’s up to her if she wants to move in officially,” I tell him, and her, and Charlotte. “What’s the ‘but’?”
Finn tips his head one way, then the other. “She’s going to need to visit the Pack regularly. We think she’s going to Change, and if she can, she’s going to need training.”
At this, Ginny sits up, looking at Finn. “What if I don’t want to go there?”
Finn holds her gaze. She doesn’t drop hers, although he stays silent long enough it’s obvious he’s waiting, or maybe testing. “On that, my dear, you don’t have a choice.”
With this, Finn crosses to us, makes it clear he’s going to make room for himself on the couch if we don’t scoot—
The three of us scooch over, and Finn throws himself back into the couch, body brushing the side of mine and he groans, sounding exhausted. “Bleedin’ Mary and Joseff, I’m knackered!” He rolls his head so that he can eye me. “If you told me right now that I could get a leg over, I think I’d be too flahed to give it a go,” he shares sadly.
I pat his knee. “Poor baby. If you wanted to give it a go after I’ve sweated and marinated in fried-pickle clothes all day, you’d deserve what you get.”
He smiles tiredly. “You underestimate your appeal.” The back of his hand is suddenly brushing over my cheek. “At the end of today, any day, I’d have you. And Sue, I’d take you flavored with fried pickles any time.”
CHAPTER 15
SUSAN
Finn squeezes my hand, then excuses himself, saying he’d better make his way to his own gaff for the night. He tosses me a wink as I close the door behind him, and then it’s just me, a shell-shocked Ginny, a worried Charlotte, and an oblivious Maggie, who is concentrating on picking up her scattered hairbows.
“You know what this night needs?” I ask them.
“No. What?” Charlotte asks as gamely as she can, her smile strained.
“Please tell me it’s ice cream,” Ginny says hollowly.
Maggie stops hunting her lupine emasculation devices. “Ice cream?!”
I smile at them tiredly. “Beet ice cream and a surprise.”
“WHAT?”
“No, Mom, that’s gross.”
“Ewww…” Then, “What’s the surprise?”
This last from Maggie.
I walk to Ginny and Charlotte, catch them by the hands to haul them up, and drag them into the kitchen. “Maggs, grab me the roasted beets from the fridge, please. Charlotte, can you be a doll and get me Grandma’s recipe book?”
With a look of skepticism, she retrieves it, and Maggie plops the Ziploc bag of beets on the counter.
“Ginny,” I open the book, flipping until I get to ice creams, “could you please find the whole cream and a lemon? Charlotte, we need mixing bowls. Maggie, do you know where to find the candy thermometer?”
“Yes,” she replies. She screws up her face. “We should be making fudge instead.”
“Nah. You’re going to love this. Grandma made this for me whenever I needed it.”
“Like a punishment?” Ginny asks, bewildered.
I huff a laugh and drag over a barstool. “No, it takes your mind off of everything else.”
I reach into the cupboard for the blender, plop myself on the stool’s seat, and peel open the bag of beets, releasing a waft of geosmin.
“I’m going to throw up,” Maggie complains, slapping a hand over her nose and a hand over her mouth.