by Amanda Milo
“We’ll see your mom next if you like,” Finn tells Ginny.
Without a word, Ginny takes up her chicken again, nodding.
The fact that we didn’t see her mom first thing has me thinking that Ms. Connolly’s withdrawal period may not be cleared up yet. Finn has told me it took her five days to detox from the alcohol. She was also enjoying a supply of bath salts before Finn collected her, and her body’s dependence—both physical and psychological—has taken more than a little monitoring by Pack physicians this week.
“When was this house built?” Susan asks, setting her clay mug down as if she’d been admiring it. All of our bowls and plates are made of stoneware, pieces replaced as they succumb to the rigors of Pack life. Not a damn thing matches.
“Ah,” Rhyannon says, thinking. “1832 for Half Moon.”
“1911 for London,” Jennifer muses. “Do you need more gravy, Kip?”
“I’ll get it. But thanks.”
“Faoladh and Conroicht were built in the fifties, I think,” Monroe shares from the far end of the table. “Maybe Vlkolak too.”
Maggie puts her hand on my arm. When I glance down at her, she whispers, “I have to go to the bathroom!”
Heaving myself up, I extricate myself from the bench—and so do Ginny and Charlotte. Susan looks like she was about to, but seeing the rest of us moving, she glances around, likely wondering if all of us leaving at once would be rude.
“Come with us,” I tell her. “I’ll show you where the bathrooms are and you can be the one to help her.”
Maggie shudders beside me. “Is it a men’s bathroom?” She looks up at me. “I don’t want to go to the men’s toilets ever again.”
“Why,” Finn asks the question everyone’s suddenly wondering, judging by the sets of squinted eyes, “were you in the men’s bathroom, wee one?”
“I was helping Deek with his pants,” Maggie says.
Every set of eyes in the room locks onto me. I scratch uneasily at the back of my ear, feeling fur sprout against my fingers and travel over the back of my neck. And down my arms. My hands. “It sounds so much worse when you hear a six-year-old explain it.”
“Better maybe mention to her that she might not want to share this story with everybody?” Logan offers helpfully, grinning.
“Oh yeah—because instructing a child not to tell anyone that a man had her in the bathroom helping him with his pants is a grand idea,” Finn agrees.
I usher Maggie ahead of me, exiting the increasingly rowdy room. “That’s why I didn’t tell her not to tell anyone,” I call back to them as they yuk it up at the table and we move for the bathrooms.
“So wait,” Ginny says behind me. “Why exactly was Maggie helping you with your pants?” Suspicion laces her tone, and I suddenly don’t want to turn to see if Susan is sharing the sentiment and concern.
“Because the stroller moms chased Deek around the park until he hid in the men’s restroom. I had to pee, and he turned into a werewolf, so I carried his clothes out,” Maggie explains.
“We weren’t in the same stall,” I feel it really important to add.
“Stroller moms?” Susan asks.
Maggie throws her little hands up. “That’s what Deek calls them.”
“Right here,” I say, reaching past her to open the bathroom. I smack the panel to activate the lights.
She heaves a sigh of relief. “Good, because I wasn’t sure I could hold it for much longer…” She keeps chattering as she hurries in, but I tune her out in favor of risking a look at Charlotte, Ginny, and Susan’s faces.
“This bathroom has multiple stalls,” I tell them. “You can all go at once,” I add awkwardly.
Ginny pats me on the chest as she passes by. “Glad nothing nefarious was going on. And relax, Wolfman. It looks like you haven’t shaved in a year.”
Once I’m by myself, I’m able to reverse my Change before I go full wolf. I wait for the girls there, gazing around to reorient myself with part of home, and seeing the house as my human ‘family’ must see it. All the furniture is worn, but comfy-looking. Not a knickknack in sight because we roughhouse too hard on delicate things for them to survive. The place is clean, but sand grains are present on the wood floor; enough so that you wouldn’t know a whole cleaning team attacks the place night and day. It’s just that paws track in a lot of dirt, and we have a lot of paws making tracks in and out every day.
When the girls re-emerge, I lead them back to our seats which are easier to fit into on account of a good number of people exiting, having already finished their food. Susan slides her bag’s strap off of her arm as she retakes her place, and reaches below the table to stow it between her feet.
“Was good seeing you again, Deek. It’s been weird as heck having you gone,” Monroe declares.
Ethan, head bowed, says, “I don’t know how you can stand being away.”
“Didn’t think you had it in you to be outside,” Colin shares. “Outside of the Pack,” he clarifies, smiling at the human faces and Ginny.
“I began to wonder if I’d made a terrible mistake the first time he yarked in my car,” Finn admits. “But since then, the lad’s done cracking.”
“I like what I’m doing. I like the family,” I tell Ethan and Colin.
“He doesn’t like the stroller moms,” Maggie shares.
“I’ve learned ways to deal with them,” I tell everyone. I go to the park in wolf form now. Saves a little hassle since I can Change at the house. The house key is now on a lanyard, worn by me or by Maggie.
“They take lots of pictures of him,” Maggie further shares.
Finn sits up, reaching back for his phone. “Huh. I need to check out how werewolves are faring in the local news.”
Finn and a couple of other packmates help out with our public relations needs. And as supernatural creatures trying to win over the world so that they don’t freak out and hunt us, it’s a big job. Luckily, Finn and the others ooze charm, and they can put a nice spin on nearly every werewolf-related story that hits the news.
The girls eventually signal that they’re done with their meals, and Ginny is looking both anxious and anticipatory.
Finn notices. He stands up from the table. “Ready? Let’s give visiting your mam a lash.”
When Ginny blinks at him, Finn pauses and glances around. He raises his brows at her—then at me.
Susan is the one who speaks. “Ginny, ‘give it a lash’ is Finn-speak for giving something a go.”
Finn pretends to be affronted. “Finn-speak? That’s plain Irish.”
He leads the charge out of the room, and Ginny, Charlotte, Susan, Maggie, and I follow him. Our long queue dashing off in a synchronized direction draws attention, and soon we have Liam and Harper trailing us. They follow us out the side door, feet bare as we cross the lawns to the London House. There’s about two hundred acres here, and the dens are spaced nicely apart. Into London we go, throwing out greetings here and there, weaving through rooms until we reach the door to the cellar.
Here, Finn stops. With an apprehensive look first at Ginny, then at the rest of us, he orders, “Harper-girl, why don’t you and Liam go play outside?”
Harper sighs and begins trudging back up the stairs.
Liam stays where he’s at. He grabs Maggie’s hand. “Hi,” he says.
“Liam,” Finn warns. “I want you to go outside and play.”
If Liam were a submissive, Finn would never stare directly at him for a straight length of time. Then again, if Liam were submissive, Finn would never have to.
Liam, although young, is an alpha, and because of this, he stares Finn dead in the eye—and because of this, Finn can’t look away. Young or not, it’s a challenge.
But Liam only takes a minute to break. He bursts into an uncomfortable howl and turns into a half-Aardwolf pup right there on the stairs.
If you’ve never seen an Aardwolf, they’re fluffy little tiny insect-eating cat-hyena-foxes. They look like God put a Chihuahua head on an Africa
n cat’s body and glued a wolf’s tail on their butt. The color of sand with black muzzles and a black spiking mane running from between their ears to the tip of their puffed tail, and with black stripes that slant along their back and legs, they’re striking.
Liam, being so young, also has a pair of wedge-shaped ears that look just huge on him—but not in a goofy way. In an adorable way. A fact not missed by anyone. Especially his new best friend.
“AWWWWW!” Maggie exclaims, and she gathers Liam’s furry self into her arms and begins pulling him free of his clothes.
Finn sighs, giving Liam an unimpressed look. “Maggie, love? Could you take that little clown upstairs? Take him out on the grass and make him fetch for you, would you?”
“YES,” Maggie agrees heartily, bundling puppy-Liam up greedily before she begins tottering up the stairs, carrying him.
“He can walk on his own,” Finn suggests.
“No, I want to carry him!” Maggie insists.
Finn widens his eyes and holds up his hands. “Suit yourself.” He sighs and motions for Ginny. “Get ready. Don’t let her give it out to you too hard, all right? Remember, you didn’t put her here. Her actions are why she’s confined.”
Susan places her hand on Ginny’s back. “Give it out means scolding you.” Her fingers squeeze Ginny’s shoulder. Then Susan looks around at the rest of us. “I’m going up to watch Maggie. And Liam.”
Probably for the best. I’ve heard from Finn that Ginny’s mom, Brooke, blamed Susan in several of her rants for trying to steal Ginny away from her. Depending on Brooke’s mental state at the moment, it’s probably a good thing she won’t see Susan with her daughter. Neither Ginny nor Susan need that kind of attack.
She leaves, and Finn cracks open the door, murmuring to Ginny, “Remember what I said.”
Ginny, already looking as if she’d braced herself, braces herself more. “Yeah. Got it.”
The cell is usually reserved for wolves who can change forms and, for whatever reason, require a cage strong enough to hold them.
Not once has Brooke Changed, but she’s needed the cage anyway, because as Finn told me on the phone the other day, being locked up and left to dry out is definitely a bone of contention for her. She’s been downright abusive about her circumstances.
Ginny steps inside to reunite with her mom.
Charlotte waits with Finn and me, hugging herself. Her ears don’t pick up on the words exchanged between her friend and her mom, and the voices stay low, but Finn and I know the moment Brooke turns mean, telling Ginny she deserved everything she got—a statement that’s made in connection to the topic of the infamous boyfriend who Finn beat multiple child molestation confessions out of, which then prompted Finn to tear the man into tiny lumps and pieces. Lumps and body pieces require disposal, and as Finn declared, it’s a good thing the Vlkolak House keeps pigs.
Body disposal is actually exactly why Vlkolak keeps pigs. Get a passel of fifty swine together, and they’ll eat every scrap of person, plant, or animal you put in their pen.
In other words, handy place. Finn, as well as our other territory enforcers, kill too many humans to eat them all ourselves.
Finn hauls Ginny out of the cell with a glare at her mother. “One day, you’ll be ashamed of yourself, you pooched cunt.”
‘Pooched’ is a derogatory word among us, slung at those who are werewolf by blood but who couldn’t master Changing.
If Finn’s mother had heard him call someone this, she’d have beaten him. But then again, if Finn’s mother had been here to hear the goings-on, she’d surely have beaten the ever-living hell out of Ginny’s mom before Finn could say a thing about it.
Being as no one seemingly scarier than herself is here to encourage her to curtail her urges, Brooke hurls a rather inventive set of invectives back at Finn as he closes the door in her face.
Looking shaken, Ginny lets herself be enveloped by Charlotte, and the two move upstairs with Finn and I following.
Finn lets Ginny walk the yard a bit with Charlotte, and when Liam—still in his wolf pup form—brings Ginny a stick, she begins to thaw out of her frozen state, even managing a smile for the boy. Maggie happily chases after her new friend, only to stop suddenly when he freezes, drops his stick, and starts digging.
He’s found an anthill.
When he starts licking the ants that he’s managed to disturb into marching at him, Maggie crouches down beside him. With a furrowed brow, she picks one up on her finger and eats it.
Susan calls warily, “Maggie what are you doing?”
“Did you notice her scent got stronger as her emotions built?” Finn asks me, watching Ginny.
“Having lunch with Liam!” Maggie calls back, scooping up another ant, which has Susan hustling for her. Tiny snout buried in a tunnel, Liam’s tail is wagging wildly, excited to share a snack with his new friend.
“I did,” I agree, training my attention on the emotionally injured werewolf. “And that’s not the first time.”
“She’s going to Change,” Finn warns, his chin turning sideways in a very Gaelic half-head shake. “I don’t know how she hasn’t already. Her wolf smells strong.”
Susan approaches us. Behind her, Maggie pokes at the ground with a stick, probably helping Liam hunt. “I take it the visit didn’t go well?” She’s wincing.
Finn shakes his head.
Susan places her hands over her heart, face pained. “That poor girl! She never gets a break!”
“She’s got you,” Finn says.
“She’s got Charlotte,” Susan corrects. “She’s afraid to get near anybody else.” Shaking her head sadly, she checks her phone, then moves her attention to me. “Well, Deek, it’s almost one o’clock. How long do you want to stay?”
“Ginny also has the pack,” Finn points out, still watching her. “And I know she’s been a regular girl to your family, but she’s going to be a wolf here soon. She could benefit from tutoring. She’s lived her whole life as a human and doesn’t know hardly any of our ways, our rules. Yet she’ll be expected to live by them. Deek and I were just discussing the fact that she could Change at any time. It’d be best if that first time is here.”
Susan’s dismay couldn’t be more clear. “You’re saying that you think she should move in.”
Finn meets her gaze, implacable. “I think she needs to.”
Susan is shaking her head. “Finn, you don’t know her. She’s run away from foster homes. She—”
“I didn’t say it had to be today,” Finn says carefully. “But Sue? It’s got to be soon. Whatever you can do to smooth this over with her? Do it.”
Susan’s eyes search his. Then she looks at me.
I drop my gaze.
I also remember her earlier question. “I’m ready to say our goodbyes.”
“You don’t need to grab any of your things?” Susan asks.
“Nah. I’m set,” I tell her. I move to Finn, throwing my arms around him and catching him in a rib-crushing hug which he returns just as abusively.
Susan calls, “Girls? We’re going to be leaving soon. Say goodbye.”
Maggie picks up Liam, grinning, ecstatic. “Mom, can Liam sit on my lap in the car?”
Susan smiles at her daughter. “Honey, Liam has to stay.”
Maggie’s face falls. She stares—horrified—at her mother, clearly heartbroken to hear this. “But… but he’s mine!”
Finn drops down to one knee beside her, patting her gently on her shoulder. “I’m afraid he might belong to his mam and da just a bit more than you. Not that they want to claim him.”
Liam, for his part, gives forlorn eyes to Maggie and licks her face.
“You three-legged jackal,” Finn laughs, knuckling the pup’s ears, making his tail thwap Maggie’s arm. “Fine, m’girl, you can carry him to your car. But then you have to leave the little shi—erm, stirrer.”
We walk back to the Half Moon House’s drive where we’re parked. Before we reach the car, Maggie loses arm strength. O
h, she fights tooth and nail to keep holding Liam, but he has to weigh nearly as much as she does, and soon, we don’t have to physically peel her away from her new friend because gravity does it for us.
Liam howls and Maggie begins to tear up as his furry butt plops to the ground at her feet.
“Maggie,” Susan warns. “Say goodbye.”
Maggie throws her arms around Liam’s neck. “I’m going to miss you!” she tells him as if he’s a dog she’s grown up with all her life, not a boy she met all of a few hours ago. “I wish I didn’t have to leave you!”
His older brother, Rory, helpfully offers to make her dreams come true by giving full abduction privileges. “If I could, I’d pay you to take that coyote!”
Finn stops dead, and so do I. And very unfortunately for Rory, his mother Jenn has just pushed open the door to ask us a question, which means she overheard his comment.
Wolves scatter as she storms out the door and takes ahold of Rory’s ear before he can so much as howl.
To the shocked newcomers, Jenn smiles apologetically. “Somebody needs help washing his mouth out with a good bar of soap. ‘Scuse us!”
Ginny looks at Finn, troubled. “I take it ‘coyote’ is a bad word?”
Finn nods solemnly. “Hell, I don’t even use that word.”
“And he calls women cunts,” Maggie adds helpfully.
Susan turns on Finn with dangerous deliberation.
“I did not use that word in front of her,” Finn cries. “I haven’t got the foggiest how she knows this about me!”
“And yet she does,” Susan growls. She points to where Jenn and Rory disappeared to. “Maybe somebody else needs to make friends with the soap.”
Finn, still looking appropriately apologetic, also manages to turn on the charm. And the flirtation. “For you, Sue, I’d do it.” His wink is dirty. “I’d go down on anything you tell me to—even a bar o’ soap. ‘Least this first time.”