Weregirl (23 page)

Might. Either that, or I’m going to a fight I might not win. But I have to risk it.

Sage tries to join me, but I push him gently back down.

“You’re not going without me.” How I love the way his jaw sets in stubbornness, the flash of defiance in his eyes. Is that his wolf waking? But no, he's always had those traits, only well hidden under kindness and his sense of humor he wears like a cloak.

“Where I go,” I say, bending to kiss his forehead, “you cannot come, Sage. Please, believe me. I’ll return soon. Sleep, or at the very least, lie down and close your eyes. You’ll need your strength when I return.”

He hesitates. “Won’t they find me if you’re gone?” Clever, so clever, my darling Sage. “You said you were using your magic to hide me.” I love how he’s adapted so smoothly, accepted this new reality he finds himself in without real complaint. It might be innocence or a form of deflection for him, but I can’t let anything happen to hurt him. Not now, not ever.

“They won’t,” I say. “I’m not going far and my shielding will hold.” At least, I assume that’s the case. I have no way of knowing, but I can’t bring him with me where I’m going. I just have to risk it.

He finally nods. “Where are you going?”

“We need passports,” I say, heading for the door. “Money and other papers. I know someone in the city who can get them for us.”

Sage’s scent turns to fear. “You’re talking about the mafia.” He thought originally that was the secret of my past I hid from him. He learned better when he was bitten, confronted with magic and werewolves and laws beyond his norm.

I smile back at him, one hand on the rusting door knob. “I am,” I say. “But who do you think should be afraid—them or me?”

He manages a little grin, shakes his head. “I wouldn’t cross you.”

I laugh and leave the room, briefly leaning my forehead against it as I close it behind me. Only then does my own fear surface, out of his view.

Risky, this option. But I have no choice. I can’t trust my contact here. Still, if we are to escape Europe and make it to America, I have to travel under the radar. Which means no magic.

Which means… I pull away from the door and spin, heading for the creaking stairs in the dimly-lit and grungy hallway.

If my contact won’t give me what I want, I’ll take it. Or die trying.

***

About the Author

Everything you need to know about me is in this one statement: I’ve wanted to be a writer since I was a little girl, and now I’m doing it. How cool is that, being able to follow your dream and make it reality? I’ve tried everything from university to college, graduating the second with a journalism diploma (I sucked at telling real stories), was in an all-girl improv troupe for five glorious years (if you’ve never tried it, I highly recommend making things up as you go along as often as possible). I’ve even been in a Celtic girl band (some of our stuff is on YouTube!) and was an independent film maker. My life has been one creative thing after another—all leading me here, to writing books for a living.

Now with multiple series in happy publication, I live on beautiful and magical Prince Edward Island (I know you’ve heard of Anne of Green Gables) with my very patient husband and six massive cats.

I love-love-love hearing from you! You can reach me (and I promise I’ll message back) at
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Last—but not least!—I hope you enjoyed what you read! Your happiness is my happiness. And I’d love to hear just what you thought.
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