Crimson (The Silver Series Book 3) (17 page)

The sound of the sliding door broke through
my reverie.

“
Cold and sweet, just the
way we like it,” Dad said; he had repeated the phrase a thousand
times and I used to roll my eyes, but tonight the familiarity
warmed my heart.

I accepted the glass he held out and took a
drink. The crisp bite of fresh citrus chilled my throat. I sighed.
“I’ve missed this.”

He glanced at me sideways. “Me, too. Seems
it’s been a lot longer than the accident that we’ve been able to
enjoy a cold glass on the patio.”

I nodded, glad that he said it without
remorse or longing, but as if he looked forward to many more
occasions.

Dad cleared his throat, glanced at me, then
studied a drop of condensation as it rolled down the side of his
glass.

“
What is it?”

Red tinted his cheeks and he fumbled his
words, “I, uh. . . I was wondering if maybe, uh. . . .” He took a
steeling breath and met my gaze. “I want to see what you look like
as a wolf.” I stared at him and he dropped his eyes back to the
cup. “I always liked wolves,” he said quietly.

I fought back a smile. “Anything for you,
Dad.”

It was his turn to stare, as much at my
comment as the offer. I pushed down a pang of regret at the way
both my parents were used to being treated. “I’ll just step into
the garage. It’s a little, uh, uncomfortable, and I’d rather you
just see the final results.” I paused and glanced at him. “But I’ll
warn you, it’s not pretty.”

A smile hinted at the corners of his mouth.
“I didn’t take you as the pretty type.”

A laugh escaped me and I patted him on the
shoulder when I passed.

I took my clothes off in the garage and
phased quickly, amazed at how easy it had become, then hesitated by
the door leading outside. I wished Mrs. Carso’s hair dye had lasted
longer, but there was nothing I could do about the red fur that
made me feel like a demon from some dark underworld. I took a deep
breath, then stepped out into the waning moonlight and padded
slowly around the side of the house to where Dad waited on the
patio. The soft notes of his humming reached my ears and gave me
strength. I snorted softly to catch his attention before I got
closer.

Dad turned and his eyes met mine. They
widened, though I couldn’t tell if it was from fear or just
surprise. I took a few more steps so that I reached the porch
light, then paused on the edge of it.

Dad went down the two stairs and hesitated
at the bottom. “You’re still Kaynan, right? I mean, you can still
understand me and everything?”

I dipped my head in a nod and his eyes lit
up. He hurried to my side. “You look amazing!” he exclaimed. His
hands hovered above my fur as though he wanted to touch it but
didn’t know if that would be too forward. I leaned against his legs
and he backed up a step, then laughed. “You’re huge!”

He walked into the light and I followed him.
He looked me over critically. “I guess you weigh as much as you did
as a human, but if I’m not mistaken, most wolves weigh a lot less.”
He frowned thoughtfully. “It makes sense, though. I mean, where
would the mass go? It’s got to go somewhere.” He realized he was
rambling and grinned. “Sorry. I’ve never seen anything like this.
Your mother would get a kick out of it.”

He rose to wake her, but I shook my head.
“Are you sure?” he asked. “She wouldn’t be afraid, I promise.” I
shook my head again and he sighed. “I understand.” He sat down on
the porch steps and motioned for me to join him. I glanced around
uncertainly, then sat on the cool cement. He set a hand on my back.
“You don’t want your mom to think of you like this.” At my nod, he
smiled sympathetically, then his gaze turned appreciative. “But you
sure make an amazing wolf! I’ve never seen fur this color. The red
and black make you look like something out of a horror novel, ‘The
Hound of the Baskervilles’ or something.”

I rolled my eyes and he laughed. “Hey, it’s
one of my favorites.”

I stood, stepped out from under his hand,
and trotted back to the garage. Phasing back to human form didn’t
feel as urgent, and I appreciated that Dad didn’t make it
uncomfortable, but it was hard to hold a conversation when only one
side could speak.

I slipped into my clothes and went back to
join him on the porch steps. He handed me another glass of orange
juice and we sat in silence, watching the stars.

“
Thanks for showing me,” he
said quietly.

I glanced at him and was surprised to see a
smile on his face. “You’re welcome?”

He laughed at the questioning tone. “Hey,
it’s not every day a father gets his son back and sees a
mythological creature at the same time.”

I rolled my eyes and he laughed and patted
me on the back. “Good to have you home, son.”

Chapter 17

When I woke in my own room the next morning,
it was hard to believe that the accident had ever happened. But the
dust that Mom hadn’t quite gotten to tickled my nose and the
too-faint scent of Colleen in the house reminded me of what was
real. I missed Grace with a pang of longing and also with a sense
of relief. She was slowly, with her beautiful, breath-stealing
smile, the touch of her fingers, and her sweet spirit, stealing
away the tattered pieces of my heart and helping me realize that I
could be whole again.

Guilt had tangled at the back of my mind
over Renee as though I betrayed her with my growing feeling for
Grace, but now that was over. I was free to let Grace in, as much
as it scared and terrified me to let anyone so close. But Grace
accepted me for all of my flaws, and she made me feel like my best
self when I was around her. I didn’t know where that could go, but
possibility filled me with hope.

I held the covers to my face for another
minute, took a deep breath of the scents of my childhood, then rose
to face a new day. The dark green plush carpet, worn from years of
traffic and burned in a few places from the cigarettes I had hidden
only to realize now that it was a smell that never truly went away,
welcomed my bare feet like an old friend. I stumbled to the closet,
pulled on a pair of my own clothes with the feeling of regaining
something that had been lost, and followed the sounds and scents of
breakfast to the kitchen.

The smell of omelets, eggs, green peppers,
cheese, onions, tomatoes, salsa, and seasonings made my mouth
water. I paused by the edge of the doorway and watched Mom loosen
the edges of the eggs from the pan, then fold them expertly over a
pile of filling. She sprinkled shredded cheese on the top and put
the lid back on.

She wore her white apron with daisies ironed
on the front. One of the ties had started to fray. When I was
little, I used to hold onto them and sit by her feet while she made
cookies. Flour would sprinkle down like snow, and I often suspected
she did it on purpose. When she turned, her eyes sparkled upon
finding me watching her.

“
What’s that look on your
face, Kay?” she asked, wiping her hands on a blue dish
rag.

I sat on a stool on the opposite side of the
counter from her. “Just remembering being little.”

“
The flour?”

I nodded. “I used to bury my soldiers in it.
Colleen threw it in my hair once and we got into a flour
fight.”

She nodded. “You ran and told us, and when
we came in Dad picked up right where you left off by rubbing a
handful in my hair!” She shook her head with a faraway smile. “It
took forever to clean all the flour out of the kitchen. Everything
turned to paste.”

I laughed. “Colleen made her hair stand up.
She looked like one of those troll dolls.”

Her laugh echoed mine. “You two were always
into something.”

I fought back an overwhelming wave of
sadness and picked up Mom’s favorite egg-shaped glass serving tray.
Colleen and I had painted a puppy on it and given it to her as a
Christmas present years ago. It had a crack through the middle and
separated when I held it up. “What happened?”

“
Dropped it,” Mom said. She
looked away, but I could tell there was more to the story that she
wasn’t saying. She went back to the omelet and scooped it into a
warming bowl, then poured more eggs into the pan.

“
Dad hasn’t fixed it?” I
asked, surprised.

She shook her head and met my eyes. “Dad’s
the one that dropped it. He took the call from the hospital the day
of the accident.”

A sharp pain washed through me. I took a
deep breath and matched the edges of the plate together. They fit
perfectly. “I’m going to fix it.”

I left the room before she could stop me. I
went to Dad’s tiny fix-it closet across from the bathroom and set
the plate on the shelf that served as a repair bench. The super
glue was where I remembered. I put some on one edge and held the
pieces together until it looked as though it had never been broken.
I studied the plate in the hallway light, smiled at the barely
noticeable crack, and carried it back to the kitchen.

Dad sat on the stool I had used and stood up
when I entered. “All fixed,” I said, holding it up for both of them
to see. Mom smiled and Dad looked ashamed for a moment, then took
the plate from my hands.

“
I didn’t have the heart to
fix it,” he said quietly.

A tear rolled down his nose and fell on the
plate. I put a hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay,” I said
quietly.

He gave me a hug. “I was afraid to wake up
and find out that you coming home was only a dream,” he said in a
shaken voice.

“
Me, too,” I said. “But
it’s alright, at least as alright as I can make it.”

He sniffed and sat back, the plate in his
hands. “Yes it is.”

“
Breakfast is ready,” Mom
said, taking the plate from Dad. She set it in the middle of the
counter with a proud shine to her eyes, then grabbed the warm bowl
of omelets.

We sat down at the table and she said a
simple, heartfelt prayer of thanks, then as I took my first bite
she asked, “So are all werewolves ruled by maddening desire and
bloodlust?”

I spit out my food in shock and stared at
her. “What are you talking about?”

Dad pointed at her with his fork. “She’s
been on that internet again. Was on it most the night looking up
werewolf information. I keep telling her that stuff’s not to be
trusted.”

I fought back a laugh. “You were looking up
werewolves?”

“
Researching,” Mom
corrected sternly. “And I’d just like to cross-check a few facts
with you.”

“
Facts,” Dad chuckled. She
shot him a chiding look and we both laughed.

“
Alright,” I agreed. “But
mostly because I’m afraid of what you’ve learned. And no, we aren’t
ruled by maddening desire and bloodlust.” I shrugged. “I feel
pretty much the same except that my hearing, sight, and sense of
smell are stronger, and I definitely have more muscle than
before.”

She felt my arm, then nodded like a nurse
checking off something on a clipboard. “How about the moon?”

“
On full moons, we have no
choice but to be werewolves. That’s the only link that I’ve found.”
I left out the way it felt to run in moonlight, the soft touch of
light on my fur, or the way it beckoned even when I wasn’t in my
wolf form.

She pursed her lips. “How about holy water?
Can it kill you? If so, we need to get something that’ll-“

I shook my head. “Not holy water, but silver
kills true werewolves, at least if it’s left to spread through the
bloodstream for too long.”

“
But not you?” Dad asked
curiously.

I shook my head. “Something about the way I
was made. Silver doesn’t bother me like the other werewolves.”

“
It's nice to know you can
still be human most of the time,” Mom said. She gave me a warm
smile, but something hinted at the corners of her eyes.

“
What?” I asked.

She shook her head. “It's nothing. I'm just
really glad you're here.” She reached across the table and touched
my hand.

I closed my eyes at her touch, memorizing
the feeling of love that she gave so unconditionally. My chest
tightened and I shook my head. “I don't deserve either of you.” I
looked at Mom, then Dad, and blinked back a sudden surge of
emotion. “I'm not a good person.”

Dad put a hand on my shoulder. “You are a
good person. You just got a little lost, that's all.”

Mom nodded. “We always knew you would come
around eventually.”

“
After I killed my own
sister?” I asked bitterly. I moved my hand out of her reach and
shrugged from Dad's touch. “She deserves to be here. I stole her
life and Debra's.”

“
You didn't mean to,” Mom
said, but tears showed in her eyes.

I dropped my head on my arms and said
quietly, “I deserve to be a beast.”

“
Maybe.”

Dad's soft reply knifed through my heart
with such force I could barely bring myself to look at him. He met
my eyes, his own firm and unwavering with a surety I had never seen
before. “Maybe you needed to become this animal in order to
appreciate what you have. You owe it to Colleen to not let this
life go to waste.”

Mom looked from him to me, her eyes wide. I
could tell she wanted to argue, to say I didn't deserve this, that
none of it was my fault, but she didn't disagree with Dad.

“
You have to live now,” Dad
continued, his gaze holding mine. “You can't hide behind a bottle
or a syringe anymore. You have to live a life worthy of both of
you, because for some reason you were chosen to live.”

I blinked back tears at the faith in his
voice that I could live up to such expectations, expectations I had
never held for myself. “What if I can't?” I voiced the fear in my
chest. “What if I fail?”