Moonshifted. Part 7

Somehow I doubted that was the case. Sure, someone who'd imprinted on him had probably gone to church once upon a time, but-my mother squinted at him, taking his measure, then she glanced at two-hours-of sleep me. "Well. As long as you practice some sort of religion..." At this late stage in the baby game, as I crested twenty-five and slid down toward thirty, she apparently couldn't afford to be too picky.

Jake's phone rang, and he excused himself to take the call.

The whole table held their breath-at least the part of the table directly related to me. Who called someone else on Christmas Day? Family-though I knew both Jake and I would make our calls to Real Dad later-or junkies, who knew no boundaries when it came to the necessity of getting high.

My mother glared at me. If it were up to her, I'd inspect Jake's phone bill each month, tracing calls back to their sources, making sure that each and every one was church-approved. Unfortunately for her, I didn't have that much free time, or any inclination. Despite things I'd done in the past, I was not my brother's keeper. As long as his minutes were under the limit, he could be calling the Dalai Lama. Then again, my Evangelical mother'd hate that even more.

"No, you should come by. Really. There's already other people here," we heard Jake say from inside my bedroom.

Asher looked from person to person, wondering what the rest of us were cuing on. Oh, dear G.o.d-what if he touched Jake, and after this would be able to rearrange his features to look like him? Or my mother? Whom had he pa.s.sed a plate to tonight? Just when things were feeling normal-I should have known not to let my guard relax. Then again, after only two hours of sleep, what guard did I have left? I felt the blood drain from my face.

"Edie?" Asher asked.

"It's okay," my mother said, putting her hand out toward Asher's to pat it, an attempt to dissipate the tension we all felt in the room.

"No it's not!" I lunged across the table to intercept.

"Edie!" Peter reprimanded.

"I'm sorry. It's just been a long day." I took Asher's far hand safely in my own and pulled him toward me. "My family just has some secrets, is all. I'm sure you understand."

He looked down at my hand clutching his beneath the table, my knuckles white. He squeezed my hand back. "Of course I do, dear."

"Thanks," I said, but I didn't feel it. For all I knew, it was already too late.

Jake returned to the table, gesturing with his phone. "Sorry, that was my ride."

"We could drop you off, Jake," my mother began.

"Nah, you guys need to make good time." He said the words like he was mocking them, because he was.

"Well, at least let us make your mysterious friend a to-go plate."

"I, for one, want to know what Edie got," Peter announced.

I glanced over at Asher. There was a slight yet possible chance that he really had forgotten my family would be here today and had bought me something frivolous and personal. I wouldn't put it past him to embarra.s.s me. I looked around the table, and it was obvious I wasn't going to get out of this.

I steeled myself, picked up the box, and shook it. Something heavy thunked inside, and I sighed with relief. The wrapping came off quickly, revealing a simple silver cuff. I had no doubt it was real silver, and the look in Asher's eyes confirmed it.

"For just in case," he said. In case I needed to burn anything that was allergic to silver.

"How sweet!" my mother cooed.

"It is. Thanks." I set the cuff on my wrist.

Peter looked to Asher. "I bet Edie doesn't have a single jar of silver polish in this house."

The doorbell rang, saving me from more cleaning tips. "I've got it-" Jake announced as I stood. He walked over and beat me to the door. "Hey, Raymond," he announced. "Raymond, meet my family. My family, meet Raymond," Jake added in his casual cool-guy way.

While my nurse radar was only in its infant stages, it didn't take much skill to know the guy on my stoop was still using. Raymond was a white guy with dreadlocks, wearing fingerless gloves-he looked thin, picked at, and strung out. My heart sank.

"It's been great seeing you, Mom, Peter." Jake leaned down and gave my mother a kiss on her cheek.

"You've got your leftovers, right?" my mother asked him.

"Of course."

My mom beamed at him. "I'm very proud of you, Jake." I knew this was how it began. Him moving back in-thank G.o.d for Peter. He'd put an end to the previously endless cycle of Jake leaching off my mother, getting clean at expensive rehab centers, and then getting dirty and disappointing her all over again.

I knew it it was my time on Y4 that had gotten him clean and my continued employment that kept him that way. As long as I worked on Y4, the Shadows would stop him from getting high. Not that that had stopped him from trying. You could say my brother lived in hope.

Still, I'd almost been proud of him today too-until I'd found out who he'd be hanging out with tonight.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN.

Asher stuck around to help load the card table and chairs into my mother's SUV. Then, confident she was leaving me in good hands-and probably warring with her twin urges for me to stay celibate until I was married, while being profoundly hungry for grandchildren-my mother and Peter took off, my mom waving wildly through the window until they were out of sight.

I sighed and looked back at Asher.

"Can you change into you?"

Asher shrugged. His shoulders widened and he became two inches taller. The s.h.i.+rt wasn't part of the show, and now it clung to him tighter than it had before, filled out by his chest instead of the beginnings of a potbelly.

I wanted to ask, Is this really you?-but that was the thing with Asher. I'd never know. I knew some girls went in for mystery, but Asher's ability to shapes.h.i.+ft went beyond.

I couldn't not think he was handsome, though. Beautiful dusky olive skin and coffee-dark eyes, and an English accent at will. I sighed. "If my mom had thought I was dating you-or this you-instead of Kevin, she'd never forgive me till the day I died."

"Is that a complicated way of saying you find me handsome?"

"It's a complicated way of saying it's complicated." I walked past him to sit on my couch. He sat down beside me. "Why is my brother hanging out with such losers?"

"You know that guy?"

"No. He's probably someone Jake met at the shelter. But I know his type. Not all of us need to touch people to know who they are."

"Who else is he going to be friends with? It's not like homeless people are upwardly mobile."

"You sound like Peter."

"I could."

I whirled on him. "You didn't, did you?" I wasn't sure what verb to use for Asher's ability to absorb other people's spirits-if that was even the word-and look like them.

"I meant I could talk like him. Something tells me he's pretty easy to imitate." Asher leaned forward. "Did you really think I'd copy your mom?"

I shook my head back and forth. I wasn't sure if I was negating him or negating me. "I didn't know. You didn't, right?"

"No, of course not."

"Would you tell me if you had?"

"Not if it would upset you. But I didn't, so it doesn't matter." He gave me a cryptic smile. "I found out what an Amba.s.sador of the Sun is for you."

"Way to change the subject. Do tell."

"Keep in mind that my people can't impersonate vampires, just daytimers-and sometimes that gets us into places while other times it just gets us tortured and killed. Still, the last time anyone saw one of these ceremonies, from the periphery of the room, it looked like there was a lot of blood, and some churchy statements about the Amba.s.sador being the vessel who kept the remnants of their humanity."

"In a jar? Or a sc.r.a.pbook?"

"The memories are hazy. It was a long, long time ago."

"Is it in a record book I can read?" On the off chance I could make more sense of it, reading it personally.

"Shapes.h.i.+fter records don't work like that. It's more of an oral tradition, let's say." He tugged at the confines of Kevin's s.h.i.+rt, pulling at a too-tight sleeve.

I realized that me forcing him to be something he wasn't just because it was what I was comfortable with was lame of me. "You can change into someone more comfortable, if you want to."

"No, it's okay. I need to go." He pulled his s.h.i.+rt down one more time, then paused. "Unless-" he said, looking at me, lips spreading into an easy, hopeful, smile.

I was flattered to have his attention, and then just as quickly ashamed to be pleased. I told myself there was nothing wrong with recognizing you were sitting next to someone beautiful. My recent loss hadn't frozen my heart or made me blind. And I knew from work that people expressed their grief in different ways. I could take him back to my bedroom and express quite a lot between now and the time I had to go back to work tonight. It might not be guilt-free later, but he was the type of partner to ensure that the ensuing guilt would be worthwhile.

My phone rang. I quickly went to answer it. It was County's automated system, asking me if I wanted to come in four hours early for a half s.h.i.+ft. "Yes," I told it, and then hung up. "Work called. They need me to go in early tonight," I explained, apologetic, pocketing my phone.

Asher rocked to standing. "Some other time then, maybe."

I didn't want to promise anything, but I also didn't want to close any doors. "Maybe," I agreed, walking over to my front door. He pulled on the coat that he'd worn coming over, luckily Asher-sized. "Thanks for the information and the bracelet, Asher."

"You're welcome. Thanks for lunch."

We were both in my short hallway, crowded together as he pa.s.sed. I didn't know what I ought to do, but I felt like I should do something. I leaned up and pecked him on the cheek, much as he had me when he first came into my home. He looked startled, then theatrically dismayed.

"How did I, the great Asher, fall into the friend zone?"

"By being a friend." I opened up my front door. "Don't worry. The s.e.x zone still sometimes sends cookies and the occasional rescue s.h.i.+p."

He looked down at me, an amused smile lifting his beautiful chiseled cheeks. He stood close for a second, close enough for me to smell his vetiver cologne, and then stepped outside.

"Merry Christmas, Asher."

"See you around, Edie."

I stood in my doorway until he made it into his car safely, then watched him drive away. I wondered if I'd made the right decision. Sometimes the best way to get over being hurt was to rip the Band-Aid off, after all.

But there was nothing to do now but nap. I set my new bracelet into the box Anna's knife had come in, and then I tried to sleep.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN.

Tons of people came down with the Christmas Flu. Other popular sick days included Thanksgiving, New Year's Eve, and the Fourth of July. If you couldn't personally come down with an illness, you could always count on a family member, or spontaneously need to care for an incontinent cat. I knew our nursing office wasn't allowed to ask why people called in sick, due to some union provision against doing so, which would be nice if I ever got to take a mental health day. I could blame blindness-I just couldn't see going in.

I was as tired as I thought I'd be when I got up, and drove to work in a blur. Reaching the visitor lot, I got a spot close to the door-unsurprising, since it was still the holiday-and pulled in. For the rest of the world, it was still Christmas Day. For me, Christmas felt like yesterday, and today felt like it was everyone else's tomorrow. Working night s.h.i.+fts did something awful to your sense of time if you didn't try to fight it, and it was especially hard in winter, when it was cloudy and dark. Today was no exception. The sun was almost gone, just a dull pressing lightness, like the beginning of a migraine, hiding behind thick clouds.

I got out of my car, locked it from the inside, closed my door, and headed toward the lobby. Someone was outside on the small patch of lawn, retching their guts out into a garbage can. Nothing like the holidays for alcohol poisoning. I picked up my pace before they could recover for long enough to stop me for directions.

The bright lights of the lobby made a man standing inside the first set of automatic doors cast a long shadow. He wore a high-collared trench coat and a wide hat with a low brim. At my approach, his head tilted up and I saw his face.

s.h.i.+t. Dren.

"h.e.l.lo, Nurse."

I was overwhelmed with a deep sense of unfairness, the earnest and befuddled kind that you usually only feel when you're a child. This was my home-sometimes even more than my apartment was. How dare he come here, now, threatening me. My jaw clenched.

"Your brother sleeps at the Armory every night," Dren informed me. "I suppose it's better there than the cold ground outside, but what's the matter, Nurse? Don't you love him? Or is he why you're here?" He looked back into the lobby beyond.

"Stay away from my family, Dren."

"Why should I?" His eyes glittered with amus.e.m.e.nt at my discomfiture. "You still owe me."

"I don't know how you expect me to repay you when I don't have anything to repay you with."

"Ah, but you do, and you'll pay the price I ask," Dren began. He leered, and I could see his fangs, longer than his other teeth. "We hear King Winter himself is in repose on your floor. Get me royal werewolf blood, or I'll drain your brother dry."

I swallowed and took a step back. "But-you can't-you're not allowed."

"Just because it's not allowed doesn't mean that anyone will stop me in time. Trust me, I can be quite fast." He unholstered the sickle he wore and twirled its handle in his one good hand so the blade made a golden circle, spinning in the light. "I wonder if royal blood is really blue?" He rolled the r in royal with mocking condescension. "I've never eaten that high up the food chain before."

"But-why?"

He stopped spinning the blade and tilted his head to look at me in an insectile fas.h.i.+on, far removed from any humanity I knew. "It's that or your brother's life. Does your curiosity matter?"

If Jake fell by himself again, I could maybe stomach that. I'd been instrumental in keeping him afloat for so long, no one could blame me for being tired. But if I had a part in his death because of something I could have done here? I would never forgive myself. There was pride in my work, and honor ... and then there was family. "How much?" I heard myself ask, before I'd even fully thought it through.

"That's my girl. Let's say a fat drop."

"Wet or dry?"

Dren laughed cruelly. "Surprise me."