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  JACK KEPT his eyes on the house, following her from the fridge to the kitchen table, where she pulled out a chair and sat.

  He expected her to start eating, but the blue outline of her body was barely moving.

  Too still, he thought.

  Then several things happened simultaneously: a sense of something being wrong flashed through his mind, her scent reached him from behind, and her cold fingers closed in a strong grip around his windpipe. At the precise moment when her hand touched his throat, a gentle, warm wave washed over him, reaching every cell of his body and every corner of his soul. She winced, and he knew she’d felt it too. She tightened her grasp.

  Oh, God! was all he could think.

  “Who are you and why are you watching me?” she asked in a low voice.

  Before he could answer, a man appeared behind her seemingly out of nowhere.

  “Tristan.” She announced his presence without moving or turning to see him.

  “Wrong time to be late, Tristan,” Jack said.

  “It’s okay, Astrid; sorry, Jack,” said the man, familiar to both of them. “I think we need a formal introduction. Astrid, this is Jack Canagan. Jack, this is Astrid Vandermeer-Mohegan, James’ niece. Why don’t we go inside the house?”

  Astrid released the man’s throat and stepped forward, studying him with open curiosity.

  Jack Canagan, her Uncle James’ stepson. She’d heard about him, but she’d never met him before.

  Jack cleared his throat. It didn’t hurt, but her grip had been pretty strong.

  With a curiosity that matched Astrid’s, he took in his tall, slender, golden-brown haired and blue-eyed step-cousin he knew only from photographs.

  “If you’re here, then who’s sitting at your kitchen table?” he said.

  She raised her eyebrows and kept her blue gaze on him. “Somebody’s sitting at my kitchen table? Are you sure?”

  Chapter Three

  ASTRID WAVED toward the sofa and, as if on her command, the two men sat on opposite ends. She took a seat across from them, on the armchair.

  “You separated from your aura. How did you do that?” Jack said.

  Astrid shrugged. “I didn’t separate from my aura. Nobody can do that. I created an illusion. I knew you were watching me.”

  “The element of surprise, huh? Neat.” Jack said.

  Tristan smiled. “She surely knows a trick or two. Well done, Princess.”

  “So Jack Canagan, how did you find me?” Astrid asked.

  “It looks like you found me. What should I call you, by the way, Rosalie or Astrid?”

  The man didn’t suffer from a lack of self-confidence, Astrid concluded. She took in his long, outstretched legs and his arm casually draped over the back of her sofa.

  She also noticed his clean, proportional facial features, bright amber eyes, light-brown hair and powerful physique.

  “Astrid will do,” she said.

  “Astrid,” Tristan said, “I’ve known Jack for almost my whole life. I think you really should talk to him. Just consider what he has to say, okay? Don’t say ‘no’ right away. Promise to think about it. Arnaldur knows about this, too. Please.”

  “Okay.” The tone of her voice clearly stated she hadn’t promised anything.

  “Take a day off tomorrow. You’ve been working for ten days in a row.”

  “Tristan, I’ve been taking a few days off each month on a regular basis, remember? Besides, Mrs. Fontaine is getting a new kneecap tomorrow. I have her scheduled for 8 a.m.”

  “Then take the afternoon off... Talk to Jack, please. I’ll see myself out. See you tomorrow. And Astrid—”

  “I know, I know. Say hello to Liv. I’ll see you tomorrow, Tristan.”

  A long silence fell until Astrid stood up.

  “I need coffee. Do you want a cup?” she asked and walked toward the kitchen.

  “Please. Half teaspoon of sugar... Astrid, I need to see your next change. Is it okay if I stay here with you? I think that’s easier for everybody.”

  Arms crossed over her torso, Astrid leaned on the kitchen door and looked at her visitor. She could still feel the traces of the warm current that had splashed over her body when she had touched Jack’s throat.

  “If you say so.”

  “I want to be as close to you as I can. That will help me to figure out what’s going on with your shape-shifting.”

  She took a deep breath. “Of course you can stay. I’ve been expecting somebody to come for a while, but now that you’re here I don’t know how to feel about it.”

  Except that I’m confused.

  “I want you to come with me to Red Cliffs,” Jack said, when she came back with two delicate porcelain coffee cups and saucers on a silver tray.

  Astrid took her place on the armchair and sipped her coffee. “I’m not sure I’m ready to go.”

  He sighed. “Wrong opening. I apologize. Why don’t we talk first and then you decide? You must have a ton of questions for me.”

  “And you for me, I’m sure.”

  “Yes.”

  Astrid moved her finger around the rim of her cup several times before she set it down on the table. She lifted her head and found his eyes. “All right then. May I start? You are James’ stepson, right?”

  “I am.”

  “Okay. Next question. How did Tristan become a part of this?”

  “Your grandfather and Tristan came to talk to your uncle James a year ago, immediately after you were attacked. Arnaldur talked to you then, but you didn’t want to come to stay with us. You chose to come here instead. Tristan and Liv agreed to stay with you to protect you. We thought that might not be enough, so six months ago, James sent two of our people to watch over you.”

  Her eyes narrowed into two glints of angry blue. “Somebody’s been watching over me? How come I haven’t noticed anything?”

  “You refuse to use your gifts. They masked their scent and they didn’t come close enough for you to sense them. You sensed me today, though. How?”

  She ignored his question. “There are so many things I don’t understand and I don’t know how to deal with them. I’m not sure that I want to understand them, mind you.”

  “I know that it’s difficult for you to accept who you are. We can help you, Astrid. I can help. You are our kin, you are not alone.”

  She rubbed her forehead. “You know, I’ve been aware of my wizard skills since my childhood. My grandparents taught me how to use and control the power I have. My overall abilities are average. Among my kind there are far more powerful wizards, my grandparents included. We’re careful, however, with our powers because we try to blend in with humans. I’m a twenty six-year old surgeon, that’s where I’m special. I’ve only ever wanted to be two things: a singer, and a doctor. I couldn’t be a singer because my kind must keep a low profile, so I’ve become a doctor, and that makes me happy. It makes my life appear normal. I want to be an ordinary person with a simple life. I’m not thrilled to be a wizard who can’t use her skills, and I’m even less happy with my monthly flip-flopping into a furry folk-tale monster. No offense.”

  “None taken. Speaking of monsters, two of your best friends aren’t actually cuddly humans. You didn’t have a problem accepting that.”

  “As far as I’m concerned, Tristan and Liv could be members of a local Goth club, having fun on weekend nights drinking tomato juice. At least vampires keep their human form. They don’t turn into a giant, hairy dog.”

  Jack made a soft chuckle. “You turn into a werewolf, Astrid. Don’t underestimate yourself.”

  “You say werewolf, not... what’s the word? Bleithast?”

  “Bleithast, she-wolf, blaidd, he-wolf and blaidd-dynion, which means wolf-people, are words from our old language, close to the humans’ Old Welsh, and not often used anymore. Vampires rarely call themselves Tel-Urugh these days, even though they aren’t actually vampires, in the human sense of the word. Similarly, you don’t say asyr, asanni and asyngaer for wizard, wizardess an
d wizard-kind either. Vampire, wizard, werewolf, or simply wolf, are more practical terms.”

  “We all adopted human languages, which make sense. We live among them. Wizards use Prakhart, our lingua franca, only for spells—you can’t cast a spell in English, or Chinese, or Arabic.”

  “Back in time when they still believed in our existence, humans had a name for werewolves, vampires and wizards—Langaer, which means The Tall People,” Jack said.

  “Until they caught up with us in height.”

  “That’s good because it helps us to blend among humans. You can call it natural adaptation.” Jack’s eyes found Astrid’s. “Why does being a bleithast trouble you so much, Astrid? You’re certainly not new to things beyond the ordinary.” He steered the conversation back toward a more important subject: the girl who, after a single touch, had suddenly become the centre of his universe. Oh, God!

  Astrid took a moment to formulate her thoughts. “No, I’m not. And you’re wrong. I don’t have a problem with what I am. What truly scares me is the fact that I don’t know what’s happening to me during the transformation. I have no recollection afterward. My grandparents described the process to me. They were with me most of the time, except when I insisted on doing it solo. And then I was attacked. Since then Tristan and Livia have been watching over me. When I change, I don’t remember anything, I only know that I black out and that I have chunks of time when I have no idea what’s happened.” She shrugged. “As far as I know, I could be suffering from ‘split personality disorder’.”

  Jack leaned forward. “I can help you go through it the next time, and every time after that, as long as you need me. You’ll have memories, you’ll be able to connect time. You have to learn how to control the change. It’s easy and natural for us.”

  “None of you are a half-wizard.”

  Jack ignored her remark. “Do you change every month? No exceptions?”

  “It was irregular at the beginning, every three to four months, but I always knew when it was coming... Look, can we stop here now? I have to be at the hospital at six thirty tomorrow morning. I need at least one hour to go through the patient’s file. I should sleep a bit, too. I’ve kept my promise. I’ve been open, haven’t I?”

  Jack stood up. “You know, if you decide to come home, you can still be a doctor. We also need occasional medical attention. Not too much, but still…”

  The corners of her lips curved into a tiny smile. “I’m an MD, Mr. Canagan, not a veterinarian.”

  It flashed through her mind that he might feel offended, but Jack laughed heartily. “I’m sure most of us would risk it. By the way, where am I going to sleep?”

  “In the spare room down the hall. I apologize for not having it ready, I didn’t expect visitors. The bed sheets, pillows and the blanket are in the closet. I believe you have your pajamas and toothbrush with you.”

  They stood across from each other, with the coffee table between them.

  “I have a toothbrush.”

  Astrid noted that he didn’t mention pajamas. “I have just one bathroom, and I’ll need it between five thirty and six. After that, it’s all yours.”

  “Yes, ma’am. My car with my toothbrush is parked a block from here. It’s going to take a minute to get there and back. Don’t get into trouble in my absence.”

  “I’ll do my best, I promise,” she said and walked toward the kitchen.

  “Astrid?” He was a step behind her.

  “Yes?” She stopped and turned to him, surprised to find him so close. She took a small step back. Jack reached for the cups she was holding. “Let me help you with that.” His fingers lightly brushed hers. The same warm sensation she’d felt when she’d touched his throat earlier that evening ran from her fingers through her entire body.

  “Why Rosalie Duplant? Why did you choose that name?”

  Astrid smiled. “She was a famous opera singer from eighteenth century France. Good night, Jack.”

  Chapter Four

  Astrid

  WHEN JACK insisted on driving me to the hospital the next morning, leaving no room for negotiation, I briefly reconsidered my unannounced decision to go with him after my next change. I had less than two weeks before the next full moon, but that would give me enough time, I’d calculated, to do the surgeries that had already been scheduled.

  Now I realized that I was stuck with him in my house for the time being. I felt ambivalent about his visit. On one hand, it was a relief. I did need help. My uncle knew that, and I’d been expecting him to step in. On the other hand, my life here in this small city in the Pacific Northwest had been relatively safe and pleasant, and I was reluctant to change it. It was a slow and quiet life, but I’d come to like its unhurried, familiar routine, and the way I blended in among its inhabitants. Who would look for me here? Who would make a connection between Dr. Rosalie Duplant, a local surgeon, and Astrid Vandermeer-Mohegan, half-wizard, half-werewolf in hiding?

  Tristan and Livia, my vampire friends, had come to this remote place with me, appointed by my grandparents as my protectors.

  I’d moved to Rosenthal a year ago. I’d accepted the position of trauma surgeon that had to be reposted three times before I applied for it. At that moment, it seemed to be a nearly perfect solution. I bought the smallest house I could find in this town of wealthy retirees and amateur golfers, and a nondescript car—a two-year-old cobalt blue Honda Accord, which I almost never used. The hospital and pretty much everything else in Rosenthal was within ten to twenty minutes’ walking distance from my tiny house at 228 Bergamot Drive, depending on whether you were in a hurry or not.

  Of course, I missed Seattle, Ella and Arnaldur—my grandparents and the only parents I’d ever known—my previous job at the ER, my few friends. And the rain. Not that it didn’t rain a lot in Rosenthal. But even when it rained in earnest, it still wasn’t that magnificent curtain of water that was possible only in Seattle.

  I was aware that this ordinary little town was a temporary solution, but I couldn’t pretend that my life was ordinary anymore. Not since I’d turned twenty-three. Before that, as I’d briefly tried to outline to Jack the night before, I’d been aware of my abilities. I was an asanni, a wizardess. I grew up with my skills, I knew how to control them, yet I seldom used them. If I needed to light a fireplace, matches worked just fine. I didn’t have to do it with the power of my mind or a movement of my hand.

  My grandfather was a prominent human rights lawyer, my grandmother a well-known pediatrician. Arnaldur currently worked as the Secretary of the Committee on the Elimination of Racial Discrimination with the UN and Ella was the Pediatrician-in-Chief of the Children’s Hospital in Seattle. Wizards often chose medicine or law as their profession. My grandparents trained me to bring my unusual talents under perfect command. That was an important part of my upbringing because we had to learn from an early age to never purposely draw attention to ourselves.

  As for my parents, I knew that my father had died when I was a baby. Much later I learned that he’d been a werewolf. For reasons known only to she, my mother had left me in her parents’ care when I was one year old and then disappeared from our lives almost completely. She’d married another werewolf, Seth Withali, the leader of the Copper Ridge clan, but they didn’t have children. And that would have been pretty much all I ever wanted to know about her if the Copper Ridge clan, for some reason, hadn’t wanted me for their purposes. Did my mother have a role in it? Or was she trying to protect me somehow? And from what exactly? She wouldn’t let anyone harm me, would she? Why had she never contacted me? These were the painful questions I preferred not to think about.

  By the time I was a teenager, Arnaldur and Ella had carefully explained to me that soon I would likely start changing into a werewolf on a regular basis. Having had a werewolf for a father, there was only a slim chance I wouldn’t change. But year after year had passed and when nothing had happened, I started to believe that somehow, as in some sporadic cases of wizard and werewolf offspring, I hadn
’t picked up that particular trait from my father.

  In fact, I was a late bloomer: my metamorphosis had been just a few years overdue, and for a reason, as I learned later. And then one fine morning, when I was just two months shy of twenty-three, I suddenly felt horrible pain all over my body, as if something or somebody was trying to turn me inside out. I didn’t remember much more than the pain, that ripping, dislocating horror inside my body. Darkness came to the rescue that first time, and had every other time since.

  The next thing I knew I was lying naked on the moss. Ella covered me with a blanket and carried me in her arms, like a small child, back to the house.

  FOR REASONS I’d just started to understand, my grandparents and Uncle James had kept me more or less ignorant of my Red Cliffs family. Immediately after my first change, however, Arnaldur had contacted my uncle and asked for help. They’d agreed I would have to go to Red Cliffs and stay with my father’s relatives until I learned how to get my new abilities under control.

  Angry with my grandparents for keeping me in the dark for so long about my clan, I also felt betrayed by my father’s family who’d waited—or so I thought—to see if I would become one of them before accepting me. Terrified of the experience of my first transformation, I refused to go. The asyngaer Grandmaster Arnaldur and James Mohegan, Red Cliffs’ Alpha, or boss, or chief—I was never sure about his official title, but he was a big gun there—combined their methods of persuasion in an attempt to reason with me. I put up such fierce resistance that Red Cliffs was quickly taken off the agenda.