Kane and I stood in a field tinted silver by moonlight. About ten feet away, the Land Rover waited at the side of the road.
“Mab—” I wrapped the blanket around me and started toward the car.
“She’s doing fine,” Kane said. “I just checked on her.”
Mab slept in the back of the Land Rover, still in wolf form. I ran a hand over her fur; she whimpered softly and twitched in her sleep. I didn’t know how to check a wolf for a fever—was it like a dog? Gently, I touched her black nose. It was dry but not hot.
“She’s fine,” Kane repeated. He put his arm around my shoulders and squeezed.
I borrowed a sweatshirt from Kane’s suitcase. I never would have guessed he owned one, let alone two. This one was dark blue and smelled like laundry detergent with the slightest trace of Kane beneath the soap. It was big on me and covered most of what needed covering. I tied the blanket around my waist like a sarong to keep my legs warm.
Now that I had my bearings, I recognized where we were—no more than a few minutes from Maenllyd. I climbed into the back of the car and sat by Mab, my hand on her shoulder. Kane got in front, beside Jenkins, and we made our way home.
Given the length of the drive, I calculated that I’d been in bat form for a little over two hours. Shifts can last different lengths of time, depending on a number of factors: the moon phase, the type of animal, the strength of emotion at the time of shifting. Smaller animals generally mean shorter shifts. As a wolf, Mab could stay in animal form for another eight to ten hours. Healing her injuries might keep her in wolf form even longer.
Jenkins turned left, and we went through Maenllyd’s gates and along the driveway. When the Land Rover pulled into the coaching yard, the front door burst open to reveal an anxious-looking Rose. She ran down the steps and peered into the car, counting heads. Her hands flew to her mouth when she saw Mab.
“She got hurt, but she’s recovering,” I said. Kane’s promise of she’s fine echoed in my mind. “Kane saved her.”
Kane shouldered Mab into the house, like when he’d brought her out of the mine. We got her settled in the shift room, where Rose insisted on sitting with her. I showed Kane the blue bedroom, the guest room Rose had prepared for him. We both needed to clean up.
“I’ll meet you in the library in half an hour,” I told him. “Go down the stairs and across the front hall. Turn right and keep going until you get to the room with all the books.” He nodded and reached for me, but I turned away. I went down the hall and climbed the stairs to my room.
HALF AN HOUR LATER, I WAS SHOWERED, DRESSED, AND FEELING human again—a phrase that really means something to a shapeshifter. I hurried down to the shift room to check on Mab. She was still asleep. She lay on her side, tongue lolling, one paw hanging over the edge of the bed. Rose sat beside her, knitting. She put a finger to her lips, and I nodded, backing out of the room.
Time to go meet Kane.
As I crossed the kitchen, nervousness rippled through my belly. That kiss. The memory of it made me stop and lean against the table. What if he’d read too much into it? I didn’t want him to think I was throwing myself at him or getting all clingy. We’d always given each other plenty of space; that’s what worked for us. Tonight, he’d saved Mab and I was overcome with emotion. If he didn’t see that was all there was to it, I’d set him straight. He’d understand. In fact, he’d be relieved.
I took a deep breath to calm my nerves and went to the library.
Kane sat by the fire, the flames’ light and shadows playing over his silver hair. This was the Kane I recognized, wearing knife-creased black trousers and a light-blue dress shirt. He smiled when he saw me—God, he lit up the room when he smiled—and started to stand. “Don’t get up,” I said, my voice squeakier than the brisk tone I’d intended. I sat in Mab’s chair, and he stayed where he was. But he leaned toward me, a question in his eyes I couldn’t decipher.
I was glad there was a fire to stare into. “Mab’s still asleep.”
“I know.” He paused, and it felt like he was waiting for something from me. The flames danced and fluttered, yellow and white, above pulsing orange embers. Kane sighed, and I heard him settle back in his chair. And just like that the moment passed.
“Yes, Jenkins told me when he brought me this.” He lifted a glass of wine. It was a deep red, shimmering with reflected firelight. “May I pour you some? Château Latour Paulliac 1970.”
“That’s older than you are. You sure it’s safe to drink?” When feeling awkward, make a lame joke.
He eyeballed me over his glass. “I hope you’re kidding. Do you want some or not?”
I wouldn’t know the difference between Château Whatever and the stuff the winos drink out of paper bags in the New Combat Zone, but a drink sounded good. “Okay.”
Kane poured some wine. He swirled it around the glass a few times and gave it to me.
I rolled my eyes at the performance and drank. Yup, it tasted like wine. I wondered if Jenkins could pick up some of that lite beer Axel served at Creature Comforts.
Kane watched me intently. “Do you like it?”
“It’s wet, it’s got alcohol. What’s not to like?”
“Philistine.” He sipped and closed his eyes, savoring the taste.
Jenkins must have discovered Kane liked wine and dusted off one of Mab’s best bottles. He and Rose would be treating Kane very well for as long as he stayed here. I wondered how long that would be.
“You didn’t come all the way to Wales to drink my aunt’s wine. What are you doing here? I didn’t expect to see you for months, not until you’d argued your case.”
“Didn’t you see it on the news?”
“What news? There’s no TV in the house, and Mab doesn’t get a newspaper. Just like there’s no phone. Maenllyd is … outside of time.”
“I can see that.” He waved his arm. “This place feels like something out of Masterpiece Theatre.”
There was more to it than that, but I didn’t know how to explain. Time moved differently here. Maybe that was why Mab didn’t age like everyone else.
“So what was in the news?”
A cloud crossed his face. “The case has been postponed. Indefinitely—maybe forever, I don’t know. Everything’s in disarray.”
“Kane, what happened?”
“Justice Frederickson was murdered.”
My glass stopped halfway to my mouth. Carol Frederickson, the Chief Justice whose opinions on civil rights had worried Kane.
“Who killed her? Do they know?”
Kane’s laugh rang bitterly. “They thought it was me. Her throat was torn out. And it happened on the first night of the full moon. Who else but a werewolf?”
“But … but …” I sputtered as my thoughts pulled themselves together. “What would your motive be? You’ve waited years to get a case in front of the court.”
“And I thought I was going to lose, thanks to Frederickson—that’s how the theory went, anyway. I heard it about a hundred times when the cops questioned me.”
“But you were in Virginia at the werewolf retreat, so you had an alibi. Why would they even look at you?”
“I did have an alibi—thank whatever gods may be up there—but not that one. On Wednesday, I stayed later at the office than I should have. It was the first night of the full moon, and I’d be at the retreat for three days. There were a couple of things I wanted to finish.” That was typical. Kane the workaholic werewolf. “When I finally left, it was starting to get dark, but I could make it to the retreat before moonrise, no problem, as long as I didn’t get stopped for speeding.”