had said about Death made her sound like a morbid goth teenager. If anyone looked the opposite of goth, though, it was Silver, with her fine features and soft white hair. “By ‘the lady,’ you mean the moon, right?” The other werewolves mentioned a lady often enough, but Susan knew nothing besides her connection with the moon.
Silver’s lips thinned. “Your mate is a fool. I can’t imagine what harm he thinks you’d do with that information. The Lady is our goddess. She made us as Her children, as your human gods made you. It’s Her light that calls us to ourselves.” Silver pointed upward. “That’s why we call it our Lady ceremony after we shift for the first time. It’s the time when a cub first truly meets the Lady.”
Susan’s attention sharpened. That, at least, John had talked to her about, given that it concerned her son directly. “That’s at puberty, isn’t it?”
Silver nodded. “For girls, it’s soon after the first blood. For boys, it’s harder to predict.” She smiled suddenly. “Though it’s easy enough for everyone but the cubs to tell when they’re getting close. It’s the itchiest feeling, and you’re cranky and restless for weeks. Unmistakable. Then when the Lady is near full, it builds and builds until it almost hurts and then you fall into your wild self, and it doesn’t hurt anymore.” Silver drew in a jagged breath, and her muscles spasmed. “Oh, Lady—” she gasped. “That’s a memory it does no good to call.”
“Are you all right?” Susan frowned.
“My wild self is dead. It builds, but there’s nowhere for me to go—” Silver held her breath and clenched her hand for a moment, and then collapsed. “Lady, that hurts.” She curled up, pressing her cheek into the seat. Silence fell, until she broke it again unexpectedly. “That’s why they don’t want me to run with them, because I can’t keep up with human legs. Dare will run with me anyway, but they won’t.”
Susan remembered her earlier analogy. The bimbo girlfriend screwing things up indeed. What was a werewolf who couldn’t turn into a wolf? Back when she’d been a lowly teller at the bank, she’d had laryngitis for a week. Her supervisor had tried to find her clerical work to fill her hours, but Susan remembered the feeling of watching her coworkers chat with customers while she waited to struggle her way through communicating something simple and silly to one of them. She couldn’t imagine the sheer frustration of being stuck with that forever. “I’m sorry.”
“Sometimes things happen, and eventually you have to get up and keep hunting.” Silver straightened herself out in her seat, and Susan started the car.
They reached the twenty-four-hour grocery about two minutes later. It was still reasonably busy with people picking up a bottle of wine or late-night snacks. Silver trailed behind Susan, watching the people and examining the food with the same casual curiosity. She only broke away once in the produce section after sniffing the air. She returned with a couple of pears, surprisingly ripe for grocery store produce, held in her good hand rather than bagged.
After all the trouble of carting them around half the store, Silver set the pears down on a display table in the bakery area. Susan switched her basket to the other hand, but Silver grabbed her wrist before she could pick them up.
“He shouldn’t be here. Dare warned him once already.” Silver’s voice was difficult to hear. Susan leaned in only to be jerked up as Silver dragged her toward an emergency exit door. Where was the danger? Susan scanned the bakery and the sections of aisles she could see, but no one looked threatening.
“We have to pay.” Susan braced her feet and hefted her basket to illustrate. Silver pulled the basket from her, slid it beneath another display table, and kept dragging. Susan resisted the urge to suck the skin of her fingers that had been burned by the basket handles. Silver was strong.
Silver’s lips thinned. “Your mate is a fool. I can’t imagine what harm he thinks you’d do with that information. The Lady is our goddess. She made us as Her children, as your human gods made you. It’s Her light that calls us to ourselves.” Silver pointed upward. “That’s why we call it our Lady ceremony after we shift for the first time. It’s the time when a cub first truly meets the Lady.”
Susan’s attention sharpened. That, at least, John had talked to her about, given that it concerned her son directly. “That’s at puberty, isn’t it?”
Silver nodded. “For girls, it’s soon after the first blood. For boys, it’s harder to predict.” She smiled suddenly. “Though it’s easy enough for everyone but the cubs to tell when they’re getting close. It’s the itchiest feeling, and you’re cranky and restless for weeks. Unmistakable. Then when the Lady is near full, it builds and builds until it almost hurts and then you fall into your wild self, and it doesn’t hurt anymore.” Silver drew in a jagged breath, and her muscles spasmed. “Oh, Lady—” she gasped. “That’s a memory it does no good to call.”
“Are you all right?” Susan frowned.
“My wild self is dead. It builds, but there’s nowhere for me to go—” Silver held her breath and clenched her hand for a moment, and then collapsed. “Lady, that hurts.” She curled up, pressing her cheek into the seat. Silence fell, until she broke it again unexpectedly. “That’s why they don’t want me to run with them, because I can’t keep up with human legs. Dare will run with me anyway, but they won’t.”
Susan remembered her earlier analogy. The bimbo girlfriend screwing things up indeed. What was a werewolf who couldn’t turn into a wolf? Back when she’d been a lowly teller at the bank, she’d had laryngitis for a week. Her supervisor had tried to find her clerical work to fill her hours, but Susan remembered the feeling of watching her coworkers chat with customers while she waited to struggle her way through communicating something simple and silly to one of them. She couldn’t imagine the sheer frustration of being stuck with that forever. “I’m sorry.”
“Sometimes things happen, and eventually you have to get up and keep hunting.” Silver straightened herself out in her seat, and Susan started the car.
They reached the twenty-four-hour grocery about two minutes later. It was still reasonably busy with people picking up a bottle of wine or late-night snacks. Silver trailed behind Susan, watching the people and examining the food with the same casual curiosity. She only broke away once in the produce section after sniffing the air. She returned with a couple of pears, surprisingly ripe for grocery store produce, held in her good hand rather than bagged.
After all the trouble of carting them around half the store, Silver set the pears down on a display table in the bakery area. Susan switched her basket to the other hand, but Silver grabbed her wrist before she could pick them up.
“He shouldn’t be here. Dare warned him once already.” Silver’s voice was difficult to hear. Susan leaned in only to be jerked up as Silver dragged her toward an emergency exit door. Where was the danger? Susan scanned the bakery and the sections of aisles she could see, but no one looked threatening.
“We have to pay.” Susan braced her feet and hefted her basket to illustrate. Silver pulled the basket from her, slid it beneath another display table, and kept dragging. Susan resisted the urge to suck the skin of her fingers that had been burned by the basket handles. Silver was strong.
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