Free Curse of the Nandi (Society for Paranormals Book 5) by Vered Ehsani

tribal background. Both Jonas and Mr. Timmons appeared far too self-satisfied, and indeed, their expressions bordered on smug; upon departing, my husband declared the visit to be a great success. Cilla, who had spoken less than ten words the entire time and only when etiquette absolutely demanded it of her, remained wrapped in her unhealthy contemplations.
    Only upon reaching our little cottage on the Hardinge estate did she stir, for who was waiting for us near our barn than my brother, the werewolf.
     

 
     
     
     
    Chapter 13

    My brother and I shared the same light hazel, almost golden-toned, eye color, the result of a vengeful werewolf’s bite when we were children. Unlike mine though, his eyes were half-wild. His posture was more often than not tense as if preparing to flee into the grassland to join a pack of native dogs; his movements were sharp and quick, barely restraining uncivilized force. Unwashed light brown hair hung limply around his angular face, and his gaze refused to meet any of ours.
    “Drew,” Cilla breathed out as she rushed toward him before the wagon had come to a full stop.
    Hesitant, he allowed her to grasp hold of his hands. As timid as a deer about to enter an open meadow where a hunter could be waiting, he stepped closer.
    “Where have you been the past few days?” she gushed before blushing. After all, there was only one reason why a werewolf would disappear for days at a time, and to impose the question on him was awkward, to say the least.
    He shook his head, long bangs swishing in front of his downcast eyes, and he pulled away. Mr. Timmons cast a dark look at the man his niece fancied and harrumphed as he assisted Jonas to unharness the oxen. This reaction only added to Drew’s discomfort, and he withdrew farther, as if distancing himself from Mr. Timmons would mitigate my husband’s displeasure.
    On a previous occasion, Lilly had primly informed Mr. Timmons not to be so obstinate, for Cilla had little in the way of selection in the backwater railway camp of Nairobi. Only recently could the place even boast of a hotel.
    “Then I’ll send her back to England,” Mr. Timmons vowed, but nobody took him seriously; he’d be the most miserable of all if Cilla departed.
    “It’s good to have you home, Drew,” I said, as much to express my sentiments as to fill in the strained silence. “Let’s go in for tea.”
    “We just ate, Mrs. Timmons,” Mr. Timmons grumbled.
    “And we haven’t had a spot of tea since,” I reminded him. Before he could make an inappropriate comment regarding my appetite, for which I would have to reprimand him severely, I led Drew and Cilla to the cottage.
    It wasn’t long before we were joined by the Elkharts. My cousin Lilly looked as radiant as ever, perhaps even more so now that she was with child. As they made their entrance, she tossed her perfectly coifed curls about her shoulder, and I could only admire how she managed to maintain her appearance with the dust and lack of proper facilities. Even when I made efforts, my mousey brown hair remained straight and disinterested in fashionable styles. For his part, Mr. Elkhart was as handsome as she was pretty, but of a calmer disposition, his brown eyes reflecting his equanimity.
    After the normal pleasantries, during which I eyed Lilly’s still-flat stomach, we came to the issue of Cilla’s housing arrangements. We described the antics of the previous evening, and our concerns over her staying in town.
    “Clearly, she can’t stay at the Stanley, as lovely as Mrs. Bent is,” Lilly declared with a certain pomposity that reminded me of the old Lilly, the one I’d grown up with before she’d been temporarily possessed by a malevolent spirit.
    “Isn’t that right, Tiberius?” she continued. Before her bemused husband could respond, she hurtled on. “Cilla can stay in the guest wing. No one ever goes in there, and it has a lovely room overlooking a river where zebra and giraffe often graze.”
    No