Chasing Shadows (A Shadow Chronicles Novel) by Christina Moore Page B

ahead—help yourself,” I said sardonically, holding out the robe.
    She offered me an apologetic smile. “Sorry, but I’ve never been able to stomach eating dog food, or hunting and eating raw meat. Mom and I made sure Mark understood that Angel was a picky dog that would only eat what he ate, but as you saw tonight, that didn’t happen.”
    I relaxed just a little, and offered to make her a sandwich as she stepped back and put the robe on. She had chugged down nearly the whole can of Mt. Dew she’d grabbed from the fridge by the time I turned around and handed her a plate, on which was a thick turkey sandwich with lettuce and tomato. I pulled a butter knife from the silverware drawer and the mayonnaise from the fridge, as well as another can of soda, and carried them over to the table.
    “So your mother knows about you?” I asked as I set the items down and then sat across from her. “Does your dad?”
    Juliette shook her head. After slathering on a generous helping of mayo, she put the sandwich back together, chewing and swallowing a huge bite before she answered. “Daddy doesn’t. But Mom knows, because she’s a shifter, too.”
    “Your father doesn’t know anything?” I asked, a tinge of incredulity in my voice. “Don’t you think that’s being unfair to him?”
    She looked at me. “Ms. Caldwell—”
    “Saphrona, please. It’s going to be hard enough to break Mark of that habit,” I couldn’t help interjecting.
    “Fine, Saphrona. I actually asked my mother that question once, when I first began shifting. Why didn’t we tell Daddy and Mark what we could do? And do you know what she told me? She said that my father had been completely devastated by the attack on Mark’s birth mother—so much so that she was surprised he had found the capacity to love again—and she honestly did not think he was capable of handling the shock of finding out what we are, too. Sometimes I wonder if she’s underestimating my dad, but then I see how he still gets around the anniversary of the attack, even after all these years, and I don’t wonder anymore. I’m not sure he could handle it either.”
    I conceded her point with a nod. “But what about Mark? Don’t you think he has the right to know? Not just that his dog is actually his sister, or that his stepmother also turns into a dog, but about what he is? Does he even have a clue?”
    Juliette took another bite of the sandwich, swallowed it after two chews, and then cracked open the second can of pop, which she chugged two good swallows of before she answered. “Obviously you have a lot of questions—I have a few of my own for you, but maybe I should start at the beginning.”
    I sat back in my chair and crossed my arms. “Yeah, you just do that.”
    Juliette took another bite of the sandwich and another swig of Dew. “Patricia Singleton, Mark’s mother, was attacked by a vampire during her eighth month of pregnancy—the vampire part you obviously already know. The vamp was a rogue newborn, one some other vamp had drained and left for dead, or thought he’d killed. Or maybe he’d been unbalanced before he’d been turned. Mom just said that by the time the shifters found him after the attack, he was completely unglued.”
    “Why were the shifters going after him? Why not leave it to the vampire community to take care of him like you usually do?”
    Mark’s sister scoffed, then polished off the sandwich I had made her and the second can of Mt. Dew. She sat forward with her hands together on the table. “For a half-breed, you seem to know so very little about your own kind. Vampires wouldn’t have acted unless he became a real menace to society.”
    “I haven’t lived as a vampire since I was fifty and I hardly associate with anyone from that world,” I retorted.
    “Really now?” Juliette asked, raising an eyebrow. “Then how come I can smell another vampire’s scent in this house?”
    “I said ‘hardly,’ Juliette , not ‘never .’ I