Chapter 6

“He’s done?” Jaze’s even voice made a dent in the fog.

“It was a tough one, but he’s done.” Meg’s reply took on a tone of disapproval. “He should have had it out days ago. I don’t know how he ran on a leg like that.”

“There’s a lot we don’t know about either of them,” Jaze said. “He’s different.”

“Tell us about it. Did you see his eyes?” Roger put in. “I’ve never seen anyone with red eyes.”

“He smells different, too,” Jaze confirmed. “There’s something off about him that I can’t place.”

Meg took a slight breath, then let it out like she wasn’t sure she wanted to say what was on her mind. She sighed. “There’s something else.”

“What?” Jet’s question held a note of suspicion.

“He’s not allergic to silver,” Meg said with an audible grimace as though she knew they weren’t going to like it.

“You ran a test while he was under?” Jaze’s voice carried a hint of distaste.

“I didn’t have to,” Meg said. “The bullet was silver. If he was a normal werewolf, he would have died by now.”

Everyone fell quiet.

“How’s he healing?” Jaze asked after a couple of minutes, his voice even.

Hands touched my leg. I kept my eyes closed and concentrated on the cold table beneath me.

“Fine,” Meg said. “He should be alright by morning. His fever’s already fading.”

“Good.” Jaze fell silent, then spoke up again, his tone contemplative. “Let’s take them both to my house. It’ll be a lot less traumatic for Grace if she wakes up in a house of werewolves instead of Hunters.”

Meg made a small sound, but Roger cleared his throat. “Can you blame her, honey? Remember how we used to be? She must have gone through something terrible to react like that.”

They moved me from the table to a blanket on the floor, then picked up the edges of the blanket and carried me. The gentle rocking of their steps swayed me back to unconsciousness.