Page 58 of A Wolf After My Own Heart
“She was Sally,” Lila replied, piling on the “why, whatever could you be getting at?” attitude. “She’s always Sally.”
She could actually see Magnus Berne working it out: Sally was a werebear + the others were also shapeshifters + Lila wasn’t = what the hell is going on?
Oz cleared his throat. “We’re. Uh. All working together on this one. Lila’s been a big help.”
“That’s a lie,” she replied. “But a sweet one.”
“Nobody’s really talking about it,” Sally told Berne. “I dunno why. Dev says it’s a cat-and-mouse thing but with wolves and bears.”
Berne swooped down into a squat, which the kid probably appreciated though he was still a head taller. “Sally, darling, what were you doing in that alley all by yourself?”
“Bleeding. I’m better now. I didn’t even need animal control!”
“Animal control?”
“Yeah. Don’t be mad at her. It’s not her fault she thought I was awildbear.” This in a tone of pure disdain, the way Lila talked about cold Pop-Tarts.
Berne straightened. “Can you run along, darling?”
“How come? It’s my kitchen!” Lila protested, and got a frown for her pains.
“Not you, lass.” To Sally: “You, lass. Run along and play, there’s a darling.”
Sally immediately darted for the kitchen door. “Don’t forget the bag,” Lila said, and the child swerved to scoop up said bag on her way out.
“What new ridiculous bullshit have we here?” This to everyone except Lila. “Are ye wasting time by dancing? Lives are at stake.”
“We’re not wasting time, we’re being careful. This sequence of events has never happened to anyone in this room,” Annette admitted. “Possibly anyone anywhere. It’s not like there’s an official protocol to follow. We’ve trod lightly.”
“Yep,” Lila confirmed. “Lots of trodding, but it was all light. Why? Do you want to address the elephant in the room? Which isn’t an elephant?”
Berne scowled and sighed at the same time, which was a sight to see. Then he gave Lila his full (ulp) attention. “You’re an apex predator—”
“Thanks!”
“—your species, I mean. But you’re not at the top. We are. Shifters. Because we can change our shape. You, poor lass, are Stable. You’re locked into a bipedal form all your life.”
“Oh.”
“My condolences.”
“Thanks.” The hell of it was, Berne sounded genuinely sorrowful at Lila’s bad luck of not being born to werebears. “But I think ‘apex’ is in the eye of the beholder. Drop a bear in the ocean, a great white or a tiger shark moves up the scale, don’t you think?”
Berne ignored her devastating logic and continued. “Our world runs parallel to yours—”
“And now I’m not sure you know what parallel means.”
“—but as your kind vastly outnumbers mine, it’s just been easier for us to keep off the radar.”
“That’s what you think this is?” Lila made a gesture encompassing the room, the block, the world. “Because that’s hilarious.”
More frowning. More lecturing. “The few people who find out about Shifters are either natural allies, eventual allies, or aren’t credible. They get dismissed as loony conspiracy theorists or someone struggling with mental illness. But why are ye here? That’s what I canna figure. Why are you involved in any of it?”
“Because I’m not a gutless sociopath?”
“Well, you’re definitely not gutless,” Garsea muttered, earning a smirk from Lila.
“I never thought otherwise, lass—at least, not on short acquaintance. But most Stables would have immediately left town.”
