Free Men of the Otherworld by Kelley Armstrong Page A

heaven in the form of a massive refrigerator, deep freezer and two fully stocked closets of food.
    Antonio had fixed the meal, piling mounds of cold cuts, breads and cheeses onto a platter so big I could have curled up on it and gone to sleep. To this, he'd added a second platter of salads, fruits and desserts. I decided this was someone I could allow myself to tolerate.
    Instead of returning to the dining room, Jeremy got clothing for me, then led me into a room with several large padded chairs and a couch. A stone fireplace filled one wall. Jeremy had lit the fire earlier and I was lying beside it now, basking in the heat and stuffing myself with food. Paradise.
    Jeremy and Antonio sat in the chairs. At first, I'd stuck close to Jeremy. But Antonio kept hogging the food, inching the platters over to his side of the coffee table. I'd followed the food and ended up lying on the rug by the fireplace. I was wearing a shirt of Jeremy's, which came down to my knees, and a thick pair of woolen socks. I'd just as soon have gone naked, but Jeremy had a thing about clothes, so I humored him.
    The two men were talking. I wasn't paying much attention. Occasionally I caught words like
boy
or
child,
so I knew they were talking about me. To understand them, I'd have to concentrate and at that moment, all my concentration was required for the arduous task of filling my belly. Once that Herculean chore was accomplished, I stretched out and listened to them talk. I wasn't always sure what they were saying or what they meant, but I listened anyway.
    “Are his Changes lunar?” Antonio asked.
    Jeremy shook his head. “Emotion-based sometimes. Other times… I don't know. They're frequent. Too frequent. Usually two, three times a day.”
    “Ouch. Poor kid. He's so small. How old do you figure?”
    “I guessed seven for his birth certificate. He's probably closer to eight, like Nicky, but with the developmental delays, it seemed safer to go with seven.”
    “How long ago do you think he was bitten?”
    “I don't want to think about it.” Jeremy sipped his drink. “He's worse than I expected. I'm not sure… I wasn't really prepared for this.”
    “Second thoughts?”
    Jeremy put his glass down. “No. Of course not. I'm just questioning my own…” He stopped. Shrugged. “Ah, well. He's stuck with me now.”
    “It'll be fine. He seems bright enough. He'll learn fast. And he's a handsome boy. Those big blue eyes. Those blond curls. People see that, they'll expect a little angel. That'll help.”
    “You think so?” Jeremy looked up, hopeful.
    “Sure. Don't worry about it. In a few months, he'll be a normal boy.”
    “You think so?”
    “I'm sure of it.”

Temper
    Over the next few weeks, my language recognition skills went into overdrive. I learned best the way most children learn: eavesdropping. Antonio left the day after we'd arrived, but he returned the next weekend, and the weekend after that.
    Days of listening to Jeremy and Antonio helped me far more than Jeremy's lessons could. That's not to say that my verbal skills kept pace. I talked when I had to, but I didn't really see the point. My needs were simple, so there wasn't much I had to communicate. Gesturing and grunting seemed far more efficient than speech. Jeremy disagreed.
    By the end of the second week at Stonehaven, he wasn't even content with mere words anymore. He wanted sentences.
Whole
sentences. And, in forcing me to speak when I didn't want to, we both learned one more thing about me. I had a bit of a temper.
    “Out.”
    Jeremy glanced over his newspaper and lifted one eyebrow. I was learning to hate that particular facial gesture.
    “Out.”
    Antonio lay on the floor, surrounded by papers, writing in a ledger book. He looked up. “I think he wants to go outside. Why don't we—?”
    “I know perfectly well what he wants. And he knows how to ask for it.”
    “Want out.” I planted myself in front of Jeremy and pushed down his newspaper.
    Jeremy shook the