Book 1 - Page 15 (1/2)

When Mac hesitated, I walked back over and knelt beside Adam so I could look Mac in the eye. ”I told you, he can control your wolf until you can. That's why he's Alpha. You can trust him.”

Mac stared at me, then closed his eyes and nodded. ”All right. But I don't know how.”

”You'll get the hang of it,” Adam said. ”But for right now I'll help you.” His knee nudged me away, as he got out his pocket knife. ”This will be easier without your clothing.”

I got up as un.o.btrusively as I could and tried not to flinch when Mac cried out.

The change is not easy or painless at the best of times, and it was worse without the aid of the moon's call. I don't know why they can't change like I do, but I had to close my eyes against the pained sounds that came from the corner of my garage. Certainly the broken collarbone didn't make the s.h.i.+ft any easier for Mac. Some werewolves can change relatively quickly with practice, but a new werewolf can take a lot of time.

I slipped out of the garage through the office and walked out the door, both to give them some privacy and because I couldn't bear Mac's suffering anymore. I sat on the single cement step outside the office and waited.

Elizaveta returned, leaning on her grandson's arm about the same time that Mac's scream turned into a wolf's cry.

”There is another werewolf?” Elizaveta asked me.

I nodded and got to my feet. ”That boy I told you about,” I said. ”Adam's here, though, so it's safe. Did you clean Stefan's van?” I nodded at the bus.

”Yes, yes. Did you think you were dealing with an amateur?” She gave an offended sniff. ”Your vampire friend will never know that his van held a corpse other than his own.”

”Thank you.” I tilted my head, but I couldn't hear anything from inside the garage, so I opened the office door and called, ”Adam?”

”It's all right,” he said, sounding tired. ”It's safe.”

”Elizaveta is here with her chauffeur,” I warned him in case he hadn't noticed them when he'd stormed in.

”Have her come in, too.”

I would have held open the door, but Elizaveta's grandson took it out of my hand and held it for both of us. Elizaveta s.h.i.+fted her bony grasp from his arm to mine, though from the strength of her grip I was pretty certain that she didn't need help walking.

Mac was curled up in the far corner of the garage where I'd left him. His wolf form was dark gray, blending in with the shadows on the cement floor. He had one white foot and a white stripe down his nose. Werewolves usually have markings that are more doglike than wolflike. I don't know why. Bran, the Marrok, has a splash of white on his tail, as though he'd dipped it in a bucket of paint. I think it's cute-but I'd never had the nerve to tell him so.