“Stranger things have happened.”
Andrea reached out and petted Conlan’s head. He sniffed her hand.
“You remember Andrea,” I murmured.
“Of course he does. He was just a little scared. Changing is confusing. So, what triggered it?”
I looked at her.
“Baby shapeshifters turn because they get scared. That’s why a lot of them shift at birth. Leaving the womb is scary. He didn’t turn even when Doolittle terrified him. There had to be some sort of severe threat. What were you doing when he shifted?”
The box. That had to be the thing.
“I was answering the door. Someone left a present for me on my doorstep.”
“Was it a nice present?”
“No.” I got up. “I’ll show you, but I think we’d better leave him here.”
We locked Conlan in the bedroom and went downstairs. I got out two bottles of sangria and poured Andrea a glass. She tasted the wine.
“Mmm, I can’t understand why you won’t drink this stuff.”
Because at some point in my life, I was a borderline alcoholic. “Why do you drink it? You can’t even get a buzz.”
“Because it’s delicious.” Andrea pulled one of the bottles to her and refilled the glass.
I left her in the kitchen to get the box. It still sat where I’d left it. I picked it up and walked back to the house. The moment I stepped through the kitchen door, Andrea put down her drink. The content smile melted from her face.
Something thumped upstairs, followed by a loud snarl.
“What is it?”
Andrea bared her teeth. “I don’t know. It smells bad.”
“How bad?”
“I can’t explain it. Bad like something really big that could eat you. Like something you should get away from. I’m a former knight of the Order and I really want to go back to my vehicle and take off just so I don’t have to smell it. No wonder the little guy flipped out.”
Andrea flicked the box open. Her expression grew long. She took the rose out and waved it at me.
“I know,” I said. “It may or may not be romantic.”
“It’s red.”
“Yes, and some cultures believe that red roses sprang from spilled blood.”
“Aha, keep telling yourself that.”
“That’s my line.”
Andrea whipped toward the door. “A car is coming. Sounds like one of your Jeeps.”
Curran. Finally.
Something crashed upstairs. It sounded like splintered wood. Not good. I walked to the stairs. “Conlan, your daddy is home.”
A thing perched on the stair rail. It was furry and upright, with oversized arms and curved black claws. Gold eyes stared at me from a face that was half-human, half-lion.
“Holy shit.” I stumbled back.
“What is it?” Andrea reached me and saw the thing. Her eyes flashed red. A shrill hyena laugh broke out of her mouth.
The small fluffy monster with Rottweiler fangs gathered himself for a leap. This should not be happening. Toddlers couldn’t maintain half-form. That was not a thing.
Calm and soothing. Calm and soothing. Mother-of-the-year voice.
“Conlan.” I started toward him one step at a time. “Come here. Come to Mommy.”
Andrea moved into the foyer from the kitchen, slick and quiet, ready to cut off any attempt at escape.
Step. Another step. Another foot and I could grab him.
The front door swung open and Julie stepped inside.
“Shut the door!” I barked.
Conlan sailed off the rail, bounced onto Julie, knocking her down, and shot outside.
Damn it!
I ran after him, leaping over Julie, and almost collided with Curran. Grendel bounced around us, barking up a storm, because my life required a giant hyper poodle right this second.
“What the hell was that?” my husband snarled.
“That was your son!”
“What?”
“Which way did he go?”
“Into the woods.” Julie rolled to her feet.
My aunt manifested next to the Jeep, a slightly translucent apparition in blood armor. “I told you,” she said. “I told you not to marry a shapeshifter. You did it anyway. Now this happened.”
“What do you mean, it’s our son?” Curran demanded.
“What is going on with this family?” Julie brushed off her jeans.
Derek sprinted into the driveway. “I heard yelling.”
“Will everyone shut up!” I snarled.
Sudden silence descended on the driveway.
“There is an eighteen-month-old running around in the woods in half-form. I’m going to get him. Help or get out of the way.”
I turned and ran into the woods to find my baby.
CHAPTER 4
“SHAPESHIFTERS HAVE PROBLEMS,” Erra said.
I used tongs to grab the meat off the grill and deposit it onto a platter. During his hunting expedition, Curran had caught and butchered a deer, which I found in the cooler in the back of his Jeep, which was a good thing because I was starving, and I was pretty sure he was, too. It had taken him approximately thirty seconds to catch up to and apprehend our son. Once I was sure that everyone was okay, I left them in the woods and went back to the house. They had been gone for about an hour now, and I had a feeling they would be back soon, looking for food.
“The Wild is unpredictable,” Erra said.
“I’ve had a trying couple of days,” I told her. “Normally I love listening to a blistering lecture on my failure to choose a proper husband. It’s my absolute favorite. But if you don’t stop, I will put your dagger into the stables.”
Erra fixed me with her stare. “Sometimes I despair at your lack of respect.”
“I had the best role model. She once punched the head priest of Nineveh when he told her to bow. Maybe you’ve heard of her?”
She snorted. “He was an insufferable prick.”
“Takes one to know one.”
“Your husband loves you,” she said. “I suppose you could’ve done worse.”
I stopped what I was doing and did an exaggerated double take.
My aunt rolled her eyes. “Yes, you could’ve done worse.”
“Be still my beating heart. How will I ever deal with such faint praise?”
Andrea snickered. We both looked at her.
“I love the Kate and Erra show,” she said. “You should take it on the road.”
I picked up my platter of barely seared venison and carried it inside. Andrea held the door open for me.
“As I was saying,” Erra continued, “there has never been a child of the Wild within our bloodline. I was hoping that the Wild wouldn’t manifest, but it did and now it coexists with our powers inside his body. The might of our magic fuels him. I fear for my grandnephew, for he may be capable of terrible things.”
My aunt, the party pooper. “Why should he be any different than the rest of us?”
My aunt opened her mouth and closed it. “Good point.”
In the kitchen, Julie pulled three loaves of bread out of the oven. She’d taken over the baking a couple of years ago and always had starter dough on hand. The bread smelled like heaven. Andrea snuck toward it.
“You’re not invisible,” I told her.
She stopped and gave me an injured look.
I turned to my aunt. “Have you ever heard of someone killing a large number of people and then extracting their bones?”
“How large?” Julie asked.
“About two hundred.”
Julie blinked. “That’s a lot of people.”
Erra mulled it over. “Your grandfather did it once.”
“What?”
“The tribes of Hatti had gotten themselves a particularly persistent chief called Astu-Amur. Big on balls, short on brains. He invaded us seven times over a forty-year period. Each time we beat them back, but your grandfather, Shalmaneser, finally had enough, so he ordered the heads of their fallen gathered, cleaned, and piled into a large mound so the next time they came to invade, their army would see what happened to their predecessors.”