“You could say that.”
“I think she learned her lesson. And you learned yours.”
“Mine?” But I knew what he meant.
Lonna’s suitcase lay open on the bed. She had already folded everything into it.
“Hey,” I said. She looked up, her liquid topaz eyes full of emotion.
“Joanie, I should’ve listened to you,” she started, but I held up my hand.
“It’s all in the past.”
She bit her lip and took a deep breath. “I need to tell you what happened. With me and Peter. You need to know.”
The conversation about the spell he had put on her came back to me. “Okay.” I sat on the bed. “I’m listening.”
She told me how she’d gone to interview him at his request, and he’d made her agree to have lunch with him as the price of his silence as to who she really was.
“He was really nice, you know. He told me how impressed he’d been with my work. But then things got weird.”
He had leaned across the desk and taken her hand, turning it palm up. “You have an interesting story on your palm, Ms. Marconi,” he said. “It says you’re in for some big changes.” Then he brought it to his lips and kissed it.
“God, Joanie, I felt it all the way down to my toes. It was the most sensual kiss I’d had in my life—on my hand.” So sensual, in fact, she experienced an orgasm right there in his office. She excused herself to go to the bathroom, and when she’d washed her hands, she noticed the hand he kissed had a small cut on it as though it had been grazed by one of his teeth.
“And then we went to lunch, and then back to his office, and then…” She put her hands to her face.
“It’s not your fault. You were seduced,” I assured her. “He saw you were attracted to him.”
But my mind raced. Peter wasn’t a werewolf, of that I was sure. I would have been able to tell in my spirit-walker form. So how could his bite have triggered the effect? But what if it wasn’t just the bite? What if it had been the bite and the spell reinforced by all the sexual energy between them? What if he had been telling me the truth, and he had some attenuated form that looked more like a traditional impulse-control disorder? His son, who had inherited his genes, had been able to see me.
My mind had been slammed by the possibility of werewolves, but now it seemed there might be some sort of rogue wizard or shaman, with enough of the genetic predisposition toward lycanthropy to inflict it on others.
“But all that is neither here nor there,” she said. “Now we both have this problem.”
“We’ll get through it. And my grandfather and I will find a cure.”
“God, Joanie. I wish I had never come up here.”
I went to touch her arm, but she flinched away from me.
“I should never have come up here,” she said again. “Now I have some weird disease that’s going to make me turn into some awful creature once a month.”
“Maybe the aconite will work for you, too. We can always try it.”
“Even so, it’s going to mean a day off from work out of every twenty-eight to handle not having slept. It’s going to mean strange stories I’ll have to tell my lovers. Can you imagine?” She raised her tear-stained face to me. “‘No, honey, I can’t go out tonight. No, I can’t tell you why. Oh, and don’t call me tomorrow, either, I’ll be asleep all day.’ This is going to ruin my career and my love life.”
“You’ll handle it. I’ll handle it. You can have some of my money to make up what you won’t earn.”
“It’s not your money. Your grandfather is still alive, remember? That leaves you with nothing again.”
My heart plummeted to my stomach, and I swallowed around the acid in my throat. She’s right, and I don't even feel like I know my grandfather anymore. “I’ve lost my career and contracted CLS, too.”
“But you won’t be alone in it. I will.”
“No, you won’t.”
“Thanks, but I’m just still so pissed, and Peter’s gone, and it’s just too much for me to deal with.”
“I’ll leave you alone, then, if it’s what you want.”
“Yes.” For the first time in our long friendship, her eyes grew cold, and she turned her back on me. “That’s exactly what I want.”
“Okay, then.” I walked out of the room as slowly as I could, but she made no indication she wanted me to stop. I closed the door behind me, and when it clicked shut, I heard her sob. With a heavy heart, I went downstairs.
I found Grandfather and Gabriel poring over the blueprints as well as the electrical and gas-line schematics of the house, which they had laid out on the long dining room table.
“What are you guys doing?” I asked. My grandfather put a hand to his lips and made a crawling motion with his hand. I understood—they didn’t know if, while the house was empty, Knowles and his goons had come in and bugged the place. That explained his comments by the front door.
They wrote notes to each other, but all my grandfather would say to me was, “Shouldn’t you find the car you rented in Memphis and return it? You should bring Lonna with you. It sounds like she’s ready to go home. You can take my car, and she can drive the rental.”
“I’ll ask her if she wants to go. I think her car is still down at her apartment anyway from when Gabriel drove it.”
Lonna agreed to follow me down to Little Rock in the rental car. I found a place I could return it there. After a quick shower and change, I was ready as well.
“Bye, honey,” my grandfather said as he kissed me on the cheek. “We’ll see you when you get back.” In my ear, he whispered, “Spend the night with Lonna at her apartment. She may need you.” He pressed a small packet into my hand—two homemade capsules. “You may need each other. And remember, I’m so very proud of you.”
I bit my lip to keep from crying. “She’s so upset right now she wants nothing to do with me.” I pointed to the packet. “And how do you know these will work on her?”
“I don’t know. But it’s worth a try. Give her time, honey, she’ll come around. Emotions are always unstable soon after the first change. And she was given the formula that made them scream in agony and forced them to change.”
I shook my head, angry at myself for not realizing they’d been there long enough to be experimented on. I wondered how Gabriel was recovering, but he wouldn’t meet my eyes.
“You need to be gentle with yourself, too.” My grandfather enveloped me in a hug and squeezed me tight. He’d showered, and the clean soap smell in combination with the crispness of his cotton shirt stayed in my nostrils and brought back happy memories.
“I’ll try.”
“Be careful.”
I didn’t know what he and Gabriel planned, but I knew it couldn’t be good. “You, too.”
Chapter Twenty-One
My story began with fire, and it ends with fire. Water might cleanse, but fire transforms. It burns away all the dead matter and leaves exposed the bare essence of the field and the forest. And of my life.
The newly transformed CLS sufferer—I still have a hard time thinking of myself as a werewolf—goes through fits and starts before settling into the full-moon pattern. Lonna and I both felt the transformation coming on as we arrived back at her apartment from dropping off the rental car, and we hurried in and locked the door behind us. Then, for good measure, we moved her heavy dining room table against it.
Lonna doubled over in a cramp and slumped on the floor, panting. I remembered the capsules in my pocket.
“Here.” I forced her mouth open with shaking fingers and slid one under her tongue. I took one as well and sat on the floor, waiting for it to begin.
A profound sleepiness overtook me, and darkness closed in on my vision. I felt the sensation again, of shrinking until the essence of my soul was distilled somewhere beneath my heart, between my lungs. Then I caught an exhale and emerged through my open mouth. Lonna was there, both in human body as well as in a transparent version of her werewolf body.