living room behind a simple door and I collapsed on a battered leather sofa in the middle of the room, I was almost okay with having seen people turn into animals. If that was what actually happened. I crossed my fingers in the hope that it was just another hallucination. I wouldn't mind a break in rehab for exhaustion if it meant all of that craziness hadn't happened and there really weren't people who turned into animals.
Smith didn't say anything for a long time as he fussed over me, helping prop my cast up on the arm of the sofa and a couple of pillows, and retrieved ice packs from the small kitchen across from the living room. Then he eased onto the coffee table next to the couch and took a deep breath as he looked at me. "Well, today has been somewhat more eventful than I planned. We'll wait up here for a bit, at least until the police depart, then I'll take you back to your apartment."
"You don't seem surprised by this. By — them. What they turned into." I tried to form complete sentences but my thoughts clicked along too slowly. For as much time as I spent in the new age book store, reading tarot cards for tourists and some regulars, it never occurred to me to think that that sort of magic actually existed in the world. "And you — glowed."
"Mmm. Yes. I supposed I did." He frowned, and for a second, his pupils grew vertical, like a cat's. I held my breath. He didn't deny it. He agreed. He'd seen it all too. Smith rubbed his jaw and finally laughed a little. "I'd hoped not to have this conversation with you for a long time, Meadow, if at all. I am not — entirely human. There are many people in this city who are not human — shifters, some witches, different sorts of fae."
"F-fae?" It could still all be a product of the pain meds from the hospital. That sip of beer could have triggered some weird interaction and caused me to hallucinate all of this, including Smith telling me he wasn't human. My mother always said I had an over-active imagination. "What do you mean?"
"Fae, what most people call faerie. There are many types of fae." Half of his mouth curled up in something close to a smile. "But we can discuss that a bit later, if you're interested."
"Who are you?" I asked in a bare whisper. Everything I knew about the world grew shaky and uncertain. It was worse than the first time I'd ever told a psychiatrist the things I heard and saw, and I saw the expression of someone who really, truly thought I was crazy. My hands trembled as I brushed hair out of my face. " What are you?"
"I am your Uncle Smith," he said, catching my hand in his and squeezing my fingers. "Dear Meadow, there is a lot I need to tell you. You are not entirely human either."
Everything in me went still. Not human? I stared at him, trying to come up with something to say. Anything. But nothing worked. I might have sat there for hours, frozen in disbelief, but the door creaked open.
I bolted upright, ready to flee if another wolf came charging up the stairs, but instead Rafe tottered around the corner and into the living room. He looked terrible — gray-faced, breathing unevenly and with a weird whistling noise, and blood drenching almost every visible inch of him. Smith got to his feet and immediately reached for him, but Rafe stared at me with such intensity my heart skipped. He took a single step, reaching out for me, and fell flat on his face.
Smith cursed under his breath and shook his head, saying something about stupid young men, and he caught Rafe's arm. He dragged him up and managed to support Rafe, draping his arm over his shoulders, and nodded at one of the doors that led away from the living room. "That's his room. Would you open the door for me, Meadow?"
Right. I unstuck myself from the couch, though part of me remained riveted to the "you're not human" conversation, and limped over to the door. I turned the light on and hurried to the bed, dragging the blankets and sheets back until Smith could lower Rafe on his back onto
Smith didn't say anything for a long time as he fussed over me, helping prop my cast up on the arm of the sofa and a couple of pillows, and retrieved ice packs from the small kitchen across from the living room. Then he eased onto the coffee table next to the couch and took a deep breath as he looked at me. "Well, today has been somewhat more eventful than I planned. We'll wait up here for a bit, at least until the police depart, then I'll take you back to your apartment."
"You don't seem surprised by this. By — them. What they turned into." I tried to form complete sentences but my thoughts clicked along too slowly. For as much time as I spent in the new age book store, reading tarot cards for tourists and some regulars, it never occurred to me to think that that sort of magic actually existed in the world. "And you — glowed."
"Mmm. Yes. I supposed I did." He frowned, and for a second, his pupils grew vertical, like a cat's. I held my breath. He didn't deny it. He agreed. He'd seen it all too. Smith rubbed his jaw and finally laughed a little. "I'd hoped not to have this conversation with you for a long time, Meadow, if at all. I am not — entirely human. There are many people in this city who are not human — shifters, some witches, different sorts of fae."
"F-fae?" It could still all be a product of the pain meds from the hospital. That sip of beer could have triggered some weird interaction and caused me to hallucinate all of this, including Smith telling me he wasn't human. My mother always said I had an over-active imagination. "What do you mean?"
"Fae, what most people call faerie. There are many types of fae." Half of his mouth curled up in something close to a smile. "But we can discuss that a bit later, if you're interested."
"Who are you?" I asked in a bare whisper. Everything I knew about the world grew shaky and uncertain. It was worse than the first time I'd ever told a psychiatrist the things I heard and saw, and I saw the expression of someone who really, truly thought I was crazy. My hands trembled as I brushed hair out of my face. " What are you?"
"I am your Uncle Smith," he said, catching my hand in his and squeezing my fingers. "Dear Meadow, there is a lot I need to tell you. You are not entirely human either."
Everything in me went still. Not human? I stared at him, trying to come up with something to say. Anything. But nothing worked. I might have sat there for hours, frozen in disbelief, but the door creaked open.
I bolted upright, ready to flee if another wolf came charging up the stairs, but instead Rafe tottered around the corner and into the living room. He looked terrible — gray-faced, breathing unevenly and with a weird whistling noise, and blood drenching almost every visible inch of him. Smith got to his feet and immediately reached for him, but Rafe stared at me with such intensity my heart skipped. He took a single step, reaching out for me, and fell flat on his face.
Smith cursed under his breath and shook his head, saying something about stupid young men, and he caught Rafe's arm. He dragged him up and managed to support Rafe, draping his arm over his shoulders, and nodded at one of the doors that led away from the living room. "That's his room. Would you open the door for me, Meadow?"
Right. I unstuck myself from the couch, though part of me remained riveted to the "you're not human" conversation, and limped over to the door. I turned the light on and hurried to the bed, dragging the blankets and sheets back until Smith could lower Rafe on his back onto
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