The meeting with my attorney was anticlimactic. I’d anticipated that he would be reluctant about my plans to open my own clinic. It was only after I left that I realized I’d given him a windfall. He’d have oodles of reasons to bill me for more administrative work. I’d have to set up a PLLC with all the attendant paperwork, not to mention other stuff I didn’t even know about yet.
It was my CPA who was going to have a cow. He didn’t like me spending any money and was parsimonious to a fault. The fact was, I had gotten good investment advice and I’d already added to Sonny’s bequest, even considering the funds needed to pay for my education. I was going to start off the meeting by giving him the check I’d received from Derek. Buying into the practice had been a nice little chunk of change.
The next two weeks were both agonizing and fast enough that they passed in a blur. I kept busy doing all those things I’d never had time to do, like cleaning — be still my heart. I was an industrious little bunny, keeping the dust flying and the vacuum running. The vacuum was so loud and my hearing so acute that I had to keep mumbling the spell. I single handedly cleaned all fifty-three rooms, ensuring that I fell into bed exhausted each night.
Simon installed all the cameras I purchased at the spy store and never once questioned my paranoia. Nor did he ask why Mark had suddenly vanished.
I wouldn’t have known how to answer that question, especially since Mark’s absence was beginning to worry me. I even called Marcie and asked if she’d gotten any “feelings” about Mark. We were all telepathically linked, more or less. Marcie and I more than anyone else since I’d received two transfusions from her. But if Mark was in trouble, she should have gotten some sort of bat signal or something.
You know how when someone is sympathetic to what’s going on with you, but they don’t want to come out and ask any questions? Maybe they thought it would be too personal. Or maybe they sensed you were an emotional wreck. So they talked about mundane subjects like the weather or how Jack was fitting into life at the castle in a really soft, sympathetic voice. Marcie’s obvious compassion both made me wish that I could discuss Mark and embarrassed the hell out of me because I felt so needy.
I was almost relieved to hang up.
I hadn’t broken down and called Mark again. Nor had I called his sea hag of a sister-in-law. I didn’t have her number anyway, but I knew it wouldn’t be all that difficult to get.
Simon and I met with three architects, talked to them about my dream for a clinic, and commissioned drawings from each. It was probably an unnecessary expense, but I wanted a structure that could be expanded, if necessary, in the future. The most important element, however, was that it remain true to Graystone. In other words, I didn’t want an industrial looking, square structure. If that meant putting gargoyles on the eaves of the clinic, that was fine with me.
I also wanted whoever got the commission to look at certain aspects of Graystone with an eye to how they could be preserved. I was especially concerned about the intricate fireplace surrounds, the bell tower, and the grand staircase, not to mention my great-grandfather's wood paneled library and the stained glass windows on the upper floors. A great deal of artistry had gone into constructing Graystone. The least I could do was ensure that I was a good steward to the house.
For those weeks I was a hermit as far as anyone outside of Graystone was concerned. The Brood was thrilled. They had me all to themselves with the exception of Simon and Wilson.
We played endless games of fetch, to Pepper’s delight and Cherry Pip’s utter boredom. I taught Dalton some tricks and he was so good at learning them that I thought I should enter him in a few obedience trials.
Finally, I made an appointment with my CPA and girded my loins for what would probably be a contentious meeting. To my surprise it wasn’t. Evidently, love had come to the accounting ranks and most of our conversation consisted of my CPA rhapsodizing over his lady love while I made appropriate approving murmurs and nodded.
Everybody was lucky in love except for me.
Nope, didn’t want to go there.
It wasn’t until I got home that I realized it was a full moon tonight. I’d been a little preoccupied lately, but it had slipped up on me and that had never happened before. Not only was it a full moon tonight, but tomorrow was a Council meeting. I had to attend, either that or expect the entire Council to come looking for me the way they had last time. Of course, they’d saved my bacon then.
I shooed the Brood outside to do their thing. When they returned they sat at my feet panting as I ate my sandwich and drank a glass of iced tea. I ignored their “I’m starving” looks as I contemplated the evening.
I wasn't going to do what I’d had done the month before, drive to Kerrville and go on the Hunt by myself. I’d learned my lesson when the scary Were had approached me.
The fact was, I wasn't sure I had completely healed from the transfusion yet. I hadn’t felt like myself for the past two weeks. Of course, that could be because I was still depressed about the end of my love affair.
Love is an amazing emotion, but it’s finite in some ways. In order to be truly experienced it has to be reciprocated. We can’t just sit and gaze on our loved one from afar. Love isn’t a one way emotion. It grows and deepens when the one you love responds and loves you back.
Maybe that’s what was wrong with me. I was lovesick. I felt slightly off and certainly more emotional. I needed to keep a tight rein around my feelings. Otherwise, I could explode in a burst of anger or end up telling someone exactly what I thought when I should just keep quiet.
Even worse, I wasn’t in control. I’d come close to confessing everything to my father. I wanted to tell him what Austin had done to me, who I actually was now, the transfusion, and my enhanced abilities, such as they were. I'm not sure how super hearing would benefit me. Maybe it would just end up being a pain in the ears. My sense of smell seemed greater, too. Witness the incident with the scent of roses.
And if communicating with the furniture was considered a skill, then I’d demonstrated that. I’d either been warned by my grandmother, the ottoman or I’d engaged in a half hour of inventive hallucinations.
Yet the Brood had been with me. They'd barked at the ottoman. They'd seen it move.
So we were all nuts.
I pulled out my phone, called my mother, and arranged to meet her and my sister at Lady Bird Johnson Park. It was a small but contained area on the northeast side of town that would give us freedom during the Hunt, but also protection. We knew people who lived around the park and if anything untoward happened, we could certainly find shelter there.
We should all be safe in our usual stomping grounds. At least that's what I told myself.