Free Halfway Bitten by Terry Maggert Page B

reached the peak, I was not only in fine form, but reasonably cheerful. Stars and sun, bless the magic contained within the humble coffee bean.
    Cooking is something that only occupies part of my mind, letting the remainder of my thoughts travel overland to chase down flimsy ideas that always seemed to lead me back to Alex. Something about the young man told me he was the tie that bound everything together. There was an event just over the horizon, and the weird circus, dead girl, and roaming undead were woven tightly in a means that I couldn’t see—yet. Alex would help me unravel all of this unsavory activity that left my teeth humming with magical energy. I could feel the potential for great harm, and my witchmark left no doubt as to what our familial opinion was of such an occurrence. The tingle of readiness in my mark was as noticeable as my caffeine buzz.
    I walked out of the diner resolved to find Alex, bring him to my Gran, and debrief him to the best of our abilities in the least-invasive way possible. We hadn’t quite reached the whole dungeon and executioner’s hood stage, but that didn’t mean that gentle persuasion wouldn’t be just as effective. My Gran’s eyes peering inquisitively over the edge of a teacup can make most people sing like canaries. She has the gift of letting you know she senses you aren’t telling her what she wants to hear. This inquisition arrives with the lift of one single, arched brow. It’s an art form perfected by teachers, suspicious witches, and small town judges.
    I thought of Alex and his quiet, hesitant energy, and smiled. There was something about him that made me feel protective, even upbeat—the exact opposite of what his sister brought out in me.
    I detest Anna. I don’t like the way she sits. Or stands. Or talks or eats. And although I’ve never seen her sleep, I’m pretty sure I’d hate that too. I get mad—I mean, who doesn’t? Even the patron saint of keeping your mouth shut would find being around Anna reason enough to fire off an insult or two. Or three. The thing about it is that I really like cats, so it can’t be the whole dual nature as a shifter panther, or some other animal quality that sets my teeth on edge. If she was a centipede or a badger, I could see me having that tingling feeling of distrust, but she isn’t. She’s a big, beautiful cat, lithe and exotic, and I can’t stand it.
    Have you ever gotten caught up in your thoughts and snapped out of it to find you’re someplace completely unexpected? Well, I have, and I came to, so to speak, standing a few yards away from the rock where I’d seen both Alex and Anna. Neither of them were there, but as I turned, shaking my head at my loss of emotional control, Alex walked out from a copse of bedraggled alders with a shy smile on his face.
    Once again, like a drug, his presence lifted me into a kind of cheer that was almost instantaneous. I wondered about that, but found myself returning his smile.
    “Hey,” I said. “I guess I needed to talk to you.” Looking around, I took in the scene for the third time. It was still pretty. The mountains don’t change much.
    “What about?” He was reasonably open, his gaze even and neutral.
    “Well, it’s sort of a long story. Walk with me to my Gran’s?” I asked.
    “Why?” he asked, then raised a hand in apology. “Sorry. I mean, why your Gran?”
    “I thought we might have tea, and I can ask you a few questions about what you’ve seen out here while running. You have been shifting, right?” I looked at him for confirmation. The musk of his other shape still clung to him; if he lied, I would know it.
    He awarded me the barest of shrugs. “It’s a nice place. Yeah, mostly I’m running free out here.” He cut his eyes at the breadth of the forest. “What do you want to know?”
    I started walking toward town in hopes he would follow. He did. We fell into a sort of amble down the path, each step easy as the gentle slope took us lower on