“Why clean the skulls, though?” Derek asked. “Wouldn’t the severed heads be more effective?”
“Because scavengers are less likely to nibble on a clean human skull than on something with flesh still attached. Besides, having a pile of rotting human heads is unhygienic,” Erra said.
Of course. When making monuments of human skulls, one must always keep hygiene in mind. “How did he clean the skulls?”
“Dermestid beetles, of course,” Erra said. “Fast, thorough, and the flesh is returned to nature.”
Scratch dear Dad off the list.
A door swung open. My son stumbled in, still in half-form. Relief washed over me. I hadn’t realized I had been that worried.
Grendel got off his pillow, his tail wagging. Conlan shuffled over to the mutant poodle and crawled onto Grendel’s pillow. The big black dog flopped next to him. Conlan hugged Grendel and closed his eyes.
Curran followed, still in human form but without shoes. He must’ve shifted into a lion, then shifted back and put his clothes on.
“Did you have fun?” I asked.
“Yes, we did.” Curran grinned. “Our son is a shapeshifter.”
He was so happy. I almost laughed.
“Your son is a freak of nature,” Andrea offered, munching on a slice of bread. “It’s not natural for a toddler to have a half-form.”
“He’s a prodigy,” Curran told her.
The prodigy made a quiet whistling sound. He was snoring. Grendel lay perfectly still, panting, his eyes shining, and generally acting like being hugged by a sleeping monster-child was his highest aspiration in life and now that dream had been fulfilled.
“Freak of nature,” Andrea said again.
Curran looked at her.
“Fine, fine.” She waved her hands around. “I’m leaving.” She grabbed a loaf of bread, snagged a venison steak, and swiped a bottle of sangria off the counter. “I know when I’m not wanted. Kate, you still owe me lunch. I’ll let myself out.”
She disappeared into the hallway. Our front door clicked closed.
Curran frowned. “Did she just steal our food?”
“You’re welcome to take it up with Clan Bouda,” I told him. “But since our son bit their alpha today, I don’t know how much ground we can gain there.”
“He bit Andrea?”
“Mm-hm.”
“Ankle?”
“Shin, actually. She said his teeth scraped bone.”
“Good bite,” Derek said.
Curran grinned wider. It was good that Jim wasn’t here. They would probably high-five.
I glanced at Conlan. He was asleep without a care in the world. My life had irreparably changed today. Nothing would ever be the same. I had to figure out how to roll with it by the time Conlan woke up.
Curran wandered over casually and snagged a chunk of Julie’s bread. “What set him off?”
I wiped my hands on a kitchen towel. “Do you want to eat first or see the box?”
“What box?” Derek asked.
Curran glanced at my face. His expression hardened. “The box first.”
CURRAN LEANED TOWARD the box sitting on the porch table. His nostrils flared. Gold rolled over his gray irises.
Derek’s upper lip rose, baring the edge of his teeth. He looked like a wolf now. A sharp, feral wolf.
“What does it smell like to you?” I asked.
“A predator,” Derek said. “Never smelled anything like that before.”
“Are you sure?” I asked.
“It smells like panic and running for your life,” Derek said. “I would remember this.”
“Smells like a challenge,” Curran said.
Julie frowned at the box.
Curran opened it and took the rose out. His voice took on a quiet measured tone, as if he were talking about the weather. “Interesting.”
My aunt focused on the box. “I’ve seen this before.”
Oh goody. “What is it?”
“It’s an old way to declare war.”
Great.
“It was used to overcome the language barrier. No translation needed. Submit to our demands or . . .” Her translucent fingers brushed the knife. “We’ll cut your throats and turn your world to ash.”
Better and better. “Would Father . . . ?”
She shook her head. “This was the way of the uru. The outsiders. Barbarians. Your father is a civilized man. If he were to declare war, he would call you first.”
Well, at least I could expect a phone call before Roland unleashed Armageddon and murdered everyone I loved.
Julie went inside.
“What about the rose?” Curran asked.
“I don’t know,” Erra said. “Sometimes they put a bag in the box to symbolize tribute.”
“Pay us and we’ll go away?” I asked.
“Essentially. I’ve never seen a blossom like this. The rose is the flower of queens. When your grandmother built the Hanging Gardens, she filled it with roses.”
And that was precisely the problem. We knew what a rose meant to us. We had no idea what it meant to whoever sent the box.
Julie came back out with a piece of paper and a pencil.
“How do we know who sent it?” Derek asked. “Why declare war and not identify yourself?”
Erra turned to me. “Did you see the messenger?”
“No.”
“If we wait long enough, we’ll find out,” Curran said, his gaze dark.
“They signed it,” Julie said.
Everyone looked at her.
“The box glows blue,” she said, drawing. “There is a lighter blue symbol on the lid.” She held the paper up. Two circles joined by two horizontal lines. It looked like an old-fashioned barbell.
“The alchemical sign for arsenic?” I frowned. That made no sense.
“Could also be the astrological symbol for opposition,” Julie murmured.
I glanced at my aunt. Erra blinked. “Izur?”
“What’s Izur?” Julie asked.
Erra stepped down into the yard, where the first stars dotted the darkening sky and pointed in the direction of Ursa Major. “Izur, the twin star.”
Julie’s eyes lit up.
“Don’t do it,” I told her.
She held her hands out. “Aliens.”
“No.”
“Oh, come on, why can’t it be aliens? Ooo, maybe your whole family is aliens.”
I turned and went back to the house.
“Where are you going?” Derek called after me.
“I need a drink.”
I walked into the kitchen. Conlan was still on the pillow. Still in half-form. Julie’s mangled body flashed before me, half-human, half-animal, trapped in a hospital bed, sedated to the point of comatose, because the moment Doolittle took her off the sedatives, she would explode into a loup.
Anxiety stabbed me, cold and sharp, in the pit of my stomach.
I opened the bottle of sangria with a jerk, poured a glass, and drank it down.
Curran came through the door. He moved in complete silence. If my peripheral vision were worse, I would’ve never known he was there. He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me to him. I leaned into him, feeling the warmth of his body. I’d missed this so much. I’d missed him.
He breathed in the scent of my hair. “What’s up?” he asked, his voice quiet.
“What if he can’t shift back?”
“He’ll shift back. It was an exciting day for him. His hormones are high. He’ll burn it off in his sleep.” He kissed my hair.
“What if he doesn’t? My blood is really potent, and the concentration of Lyc-V in his bloodstream is off the charts. What if he goes loup?”
Curran turned me toward our son, hugging me to him. His voice was calm and soothing. “He won’t. Look at him. He’s proportionate. Look at his jaws. They fit together, they are well formed. The length of his legs and arms is perfect. He did it instinctually. He didn’t struggle; he just did it. With loups, there is a stench. He smells clean.”