Then, she came over and put her arms around me. We stayed like that a long time, hugging. She kept saying, "It's okay, it'll be okay." And I marveled that she could even say that, with everything that had happened to us.
As much as I might want to turn four years old again and have my mother take care of me, I couldn't. And I couldn't keep this up all night. My eyes hurt. My whole face hurt. I pulled away to grab a new handful of tissues.
"I just wanted a normal life," I said, my voice thick. "I always thought I was going to have a normal life."
Smiling a wise, knowing smile, Mom brushed a wet strand of hair out of my face. "Nobody gets a normal life. You think it's normal, then something like this happens. You find a lump. You get bitten by something out in the woods. And you think, 'Why me?' But the universe says, 'Why not you?' And I think about how very lucky we've all been. I've been married to my best friend for thirty-five years. My beautiful girls are making their way in the world. Most people don't have it this good."
"So something was bound to come along and wreck it, is that what you're saying?"
She shook her head. "It's not wrecked. I'm very lucky to have this life. I think that luck’ll hold for a little while longer. I can handle a lump or two. And you—you've held on this long, Kitty. You've been through so much. I can't imagine anything keeping you down for long. We'll be fine, we're all going to be fine."
It was a mantra of pure faith.
She kept on with the ice cream, and I switched to hot cocoa. My insides needed warming, and my throat needed melting.
I couldn't not say it any longer. If I was going to make one revelation tonight, I might as well make them all. I'd stopped crying and felt a little less wrung-out. I gripped my mug and made a start of it.
"Mom, I have to ask you something. You may not like it, but I have to say it and I want you to think about it, seriously, before you blow me off. Lycanthropy—it does something. Like what I told you—I'll never get cancer, I'll never get sick. If you were infected, if you were bitten right now—it would cure you. It's a trade-off, I know. The lycanthropy, it's hard to deal with. But…it would cure you. You wouldn't have to go through this surgery." She could keep her body intact.
She let her gaze fall to the table, to where her hands lay folded over one another. "What exactly are you saying?"
As if I hadn't already spelled it out. "I can cure you. I think I can cure you." It was insane, but it was also a shred of hope. That hope burned in me.
"By turning me into a werewolf," she said, her voice gone flat.
"Yes. I haven't really thought out the mechanics of it, but I'm sure—"
She held her hand in a calming gesture, and I stopped. "Do you know that this is a cure? Have you tried it? Do you know anyone who's tried it?"
No, but I didn't want to say that. "I'll have Dr. Shumacher talk to you. The data's still a little fuzzy because it was secret for so long, but she has the case files—"
Again, Mom stopped me.
"The surgery's scheduled for Friday. It's all settled."
"You can change your mind. You have a few days to think about it."
For a moment, she looked like she was going to argue. She wore a familiar, pensive expression. Like I was about to do something stupid and she was going to let me, so I'd learn a lesson. I was trying to save her, and I was the one who felt like an idiot.
"I'll think about it," she said finally.
I wanted Mom intact, healthy, strong. I knew this would work. I knew it.
"I'll come see you Friday. Okay? Call me if you need anything." If you want me to do it. If you change your mind.
"I'd like that."
"I love you." It came out desperate, like I wasn't going to have another chance to tell her.
"I love you too."
We hugged. She felt small in my embrace. For the first time in my life, she felt frail.
Dad walked me to my car. We went slowly, enjoying the warm evening.
"How do you think she's holding up?" he said.
I shrugged. "I was about to ask you. I have no idea if she's really being that positive or just putting on a brave face."
He chuckled. "You'd think I'd be able to tell the difference, wouldn't you?"
"Dad, I may have said something that upset her. I think that lycanthropy might cure it. The cancer, I mean."
He leaned against my car and gazed up the street, not really looking at anything. "I can't claim to know too much about it, but that sounds like a cure that's not a whole lot better than the disease."
I gazed heavenward. I was only trying to help. "I know, I know. But—if things get bad, if the doctors can't do anything…"
He shook his head. "We haven't gotten there yet. It's going to be fine. Everything's going to be fine."
My eyes were stinging then. "Okay. I'll see you later, 'kay?"
We hugged, and he watched me drive away.
On the way home, my cell phone rang.
"Kitty, it's Tom." Tom was one of vampire Mistress Alette's people. Chauffeur, valet, human servant—and a grandson many generations down the line. Part of her family in every sense of the word.
"Hey, what's up? Did Jenny get in okay?"
"That's why I'm calling. Her flight came in, but she wasn't on it."
The question had been rote; I'd asked it fully expecting a positive response. No alternative was possible. My stomach froze.
"What do you mean she wasn't on it?"
"The airline says she didn't check in at the gate. She never got onto the plane. We can't find her."
"I walked her to security myself. She couldn't have not gotten on that plane. Maybe the airline made a mistake."
"I suppose it's possible. Does she have a phone?"
"No, she doesn't. There has to be an explanation. Maybe I gave you the wrong flight number."
"I'll make another pass through the airport. Maybe give Ahmed a call." Ahmed was the closest thing the D.C. lycanthropes had to a leader. She might have found her way to him. I had to hope something like that had happened, that she'd made it to D.C. and just missed Tom somehow.
"I'll try to find something out on this end." And what happened if she hadn't gotten on the plane? Why wouldn't she have gotten on the plane? "Let me know as soon as you find out anything."
"Will do." He clicked off.
There had to be a good explanation. I went home and made some phone calls.
The airline showed that Jenny had been issued a boarding pass, but she hadn't checked in at boarding. Her seat was empty when the plane took off. Had she maybe changed flights? Changed time or destination? The reservation person said there'd been no change to her ticket after the boarding pass had been issued. It was like she'd disappeared. I talked to airport security. They said they'd check surveillance camera footage, to find out what had happened. If someone had come after her. That was my biggest fear. Somehow, some way, Carl had found out and gotten to her. It wasn't just possible, it would be easy. But I'd have hoped that Jenny would have enough confidence, enough strength, to scream if he tried to take her.
I called Hardin and tried to report Jenny as missing. But she hadn't been gone long enough. Unless I had any ideas about where to look for her, or who might have information, the police couldn't help. "Carl," I said. "He'll know something." I told her how to find him.
"I'll see what I can do," she said, but her tone wasn't encouraging.
I'd been at it for hours, sitting at the kitchen table with a phone book, trying to think of more people to call. Ben came in, dressed for bed.