Adam set a stack of tabloid newspapers on the kitchen table in front of me. There must have been ten or twelve of them. The front page headline of the one on top said: Human(?) Wife Says Alpha Werewolf Is Sex Fiend, Seeks Help from Friend.
And that wasn’t the worst one.
I laughed until I cried. Then Adam picked me up, careful not to jostle my broken arm, and growled, “Nudge.”
“Help,” I called as he carried me up the stairs. “My mate is a sex fiend. Help.”
There was no help for me.
________
ADAM GOT CALLED INTO WORK THAT NIGHT, SO I WAS alone when the sounds of a guitar and a violin drifted through my closed window. I got up and shoved the window open—which would have been easier without the stupid broken arm.
Sitting cross-legged on the hood of my old Rabbit parts car, Wulfe played a violin. In front of him, standing on the ground but with one foot on the bumper, Stefan played a guitar. They managed a pretty good version of “The Sound of Silence.” Small hesitations here and there made me think they hadn’t practiced it.
When they were done, Wulfe slid off the car and took a bow with a flourish worthy of a Shakespearean actor. But it was Stefan’s grin, not Wulfe’s bow or the performance, that put a smile on my face as I closed the window.
On the top of my chest of drawers, just as though it had always been there, the walking stick lay in its usual place.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Thanks to all of those who have helped make this book better: Collin Briggs, Linda Campbell, Dave and Katharine Carson, Ann Peters, and Kaye Roberson. They read this in rougher forms and sometimes at speed. Thanks also to my long-suffering editor Anne Sowards, copy editor Amy J. Schneider, Michelle Kasper, Alexis Nixon, Jessica Plummer, Miranda Hill, and the team at Penguin Random House, without whose skilled guidance this book would be much the less. Thank you to Susann and Michael Bock, who once again have furnished Zee and Tad with their German. (Zee is particularly happy not to be stuck with mine.) I am grateful for my friend Michael Enzweiler, who draws the wonderful and useful maps for my books. Finally, thank you to the readers who enjoy the journeys of my imaginary friends. As always, any mistakes are mine.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Patricia Briggs lived a fairly normal life until she learned to read. After that she spent lazy afternoons flying dragon-back and looking for magic swords when she wasn’t horseback riding in the Rocky Mountains. Once she graduated from Montana State University with degrees in history and German, she spent her time substitute teaching and writing. She and her family live in the Pacific Northwest, and you can visit her website at www.patriciabriggs.com.
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Smoke Bitten: Mercy Thompson: Book 12 Page 31
