Free Silver by Rhiannon Held Page B

mean—”
    Andrew stepped in before he could flounder too long. “It’s more complicated than that. You’re better staying out of it. I’ll either get the permission I need to cross or I won’t. You being a character reference won’t make much difference.”
    “I wish you could have pounded Craig into a pulp.” Tom snapped a low-hanging branch aside with a little extra violence. “I want to.”
    “Give it thirty years. It’ll help with understanding about picking your battles.” Some people avoided learning that lesson indefinitely, of course. Andrew wouldn’t wish Tom to have an awakening like his own when it came to the consequences of giving in to the rage.
    Before Tom could broach any more awkward topics, Andrew pulled off his clothes. He folded them into a compact bundle, Tom held out his pack in invitation, and he dumped them in with the boy’s. Shifting took perhaps a minute, with the full getting closer. The seesaw of man to wolf swung with the ease of nearly even balance, rather than feeling weighted down as it did when the moon waned. Time to hunt.

 
    8
    When Andrew told Silver’s story to all the Portland Were who managed to squeeze into the living room the next morning, their frozen silence made him see her injuries all over again. Time had dulled the shock for him, but even Michelle looked sick, and she’d heard part already over the phone. Tom’s girlfriend pressed her face into his shoulder and covered her ears about halfway through the explanation. Tom kept his body language strong for her even as his expression grew young and lost. Only Craig remained bland; impossible to tell if it was lack of reaction or camouflage for one. Silver herself looked so calm it was probable no one was home at the moment. She sat with her bad arm draped open on her lap so people could see.
    Andrew could use everyone’s shock, as guilty as it made him feel. “She needs somewhere to stay, while I find the one who did this,” he said, and sensed the pack’s emotional tide flow where he channeled it. Michelle lifted her chin in slight annoyance, but then nodded to him. He’d have liked to know more about the reasons behind her agreement, but while the potent mixture of scents from the dozen pack members crowded into the room allowed him to guess at group emotions, individual signatures were lost. A useful sort of privacy, in many situations. They wouldn’t be able to get a good handle on his emotions either.
    An older Were scooted closer to Silver on the couch and patted her hand. Maria, Andrew remembered belatedly, the name coming back to him from an introduction last night. Maria had asked for details about Silver’s condition as the closest thing the pack had to a doctor.
    At least Andrew suspected Maria was older. Age was hard to judge in werewolves, more manner than crow’s-feet. Her skin had a Mediterranean tint to it and her black hair was pulled up in a severe bun. She started to help Silver tuck away her arm into a new hoodie someone had donated, but Silver pushed the woman’s hands away.
    “Death said you were trying to get rid of me.” Silver glared at Andrew. “I stopped running, I stayed with you. I trusted you when you dragged me back toward the monster. And now you just leave me?”
    “Death?” Maria knelt before the couch and cupped Silver’s face in her hands, olive skin against sickly pale. “She mentioned that before.”
    “Who knows what she’s seeing,” Andrew said. “She seems to talk to them, the Lady and Death.”
    Silver made an inarticulate, angry noise. “I no more talk to the Lady than you do, warrior. Perhaps you have chosen Death, but it was not a choice I made. The Lady turned away from me and now I can’t find Her or my wild self.” She gestured to the empty air beside Andrew’s feet. “At least you still have that.”
    Most of the Were made the Lady’s sign automatically, Maria with marked reverence. Michelle let her hand fall, and then gave Andrew a