Free Moonshifted by Cassie Alexander Page B

cared if his burger was a little dry. If you ever asked him if your ass was fat, it usually was. He wasn’t mean—he’d just missed out on some sort of filtering apparatus that most of the people who were more socially greased for life came with. Seeing as my biological father’s social lubricant had been alcohol, I supposed I should be pleased.
    I looked over at Jake—he of the original table’s mishaps—who chose that moment to look away. “I’ll think about writing a letter.”
    “Do.” Peter smiled and nodded. He swept my counter contents aside to get to a plug, and there was the sound of potatoes being whipped.
    *   *   *
    My mother suggested we open gifts while things were reheating. I’d gotten her the usual, a sweater and a bottle of her favorite perfume. My brother earned socks and a new backpack from Peter. I could see the mild disappointment behind his smile. Nothing said New on the streets like nice things. He’d have to rough it up some, or trade it in for something else. Peter didn’t have any idea what it was like to be mostly homeless, and I didn’t really either, except what I’d gathered from watching my brother and County’s clientele.
    Peter gave me a belt with a huge abstractly shaped silver buckle. “It’s sure to be fashionable soon,” my mom said, patting my arm as I lifted it out of the box. I spotted a gift receipt below and grinned. Returned soon was more like it.
    My mother saved her gift for last. It was big and fluffy in that way that was always disappointing as a kid: a pillow from your least favorite grandmother, or a stuffed animal from your aunt. I ripped into the wrapping paper with trepidation and found—a lovely new winter coat. It was teal with large gold buttons.
    “She got it last spring when they were on sale,” Peter said, so I would know.
    It was utilitarian, sure. But every single other coat I owned right now had someone else’s blood on it. I clutched it to my chest and beamed at her. “It’s perfect.”
    We were all together there, having some sort of cookie-cutter Christmas, only things were really nice for once. Peter was passing the stuffing when Grandfather started up from his current location, in the kitchen next to the toaster.
    “What’s that?” Peter asked.
    “A gift from a patient’s family,” I lied quickly, and raced over to the bar. “I didn’t know any German.”
    “Well, that’s very kind.”
    “Wasn’t it, though?” Grandfather didn’t talk unless—I patted his lid in what I hoped was a pacifying manner and started edging toward my door. There was a knock, and it nearly made me jump out of my skin.
    “I’ll get it, dear—” my mother began.
    “No! No—no—I’ve got it.” I raced around my kitchen’s tiny bar and teetered up on my heels to look through the peephole. Someone I didn’t know stood outside. He raised his hand to knock again. I opened the door just an inch, prepared to throw my entire weight behind it to close it again if I needed to.

 
    CHAPTER THIRTEEN
    “And you are?” I whispered through the crack.
    “You know who I am, silly.” And for a second, his eyes flared brown.
    “Asher! You were not invited.”
    “I just came to bring you a gift,” he explained as I opened the door wider. “I didn’t know—”
    “You knew.” I planted a finger into Asher’s chest. “I told you last night.”
    Asher scratched his chin in contemplation. His current chin, one I hadn’t seen before. He was normal looking, just a little on this side of average, clean-cut handsome sliding toward middle age. The Asher I was used to was chiseled-handsome with a fancy car; this version was more the man-next-door who probably knew how to use power tools. “Did you mention it?” he asked.
    I gritted out in a low voice, “For a shapeshifter, you’re a really miserable liar.”
    “Only when I want to be.” He leaned in and pecked me on the cheek. It was unexpected—both from him and from this new