Thunder Moon (Nightcreature 8)

I caught my breath in relief, even as my stomach dipped in disappointment.

“I haven’t translated all of Rose’s papers yet. But if I were your great-grandmother, I’d have left the secret there. You could choose to use it or not, but if she didn’t write it down, it’s gone forever.”

I wondered momentarily if that secret was the reason she’d come over from the Darkening Land. I hadn’t seen the wolf in several days, which made me think whatever message she’d brought had been delivered. I just wished I knew for certain what the message had been.

“I didn’t know her,” Ian continued, “but I can’t imagine she’d want such a huge part of your heritage to disappear.”

I couldn’t, either, but I put aside that problem as the door to Quatie’s cabin opened and someone stepped out. Not Quatie but a much, much younger woman. The great-great-granddaughter whose existence I’d doubted had arrived.

She was maybe an inch taller than Quatie, thinner, though not thin. Anyone lugging around D cups could not lay claim to that. But her waist was trim, and the legs revealed by her knee-length multi-colored skirt were shaped like a runner’s.

The voluptuous curves of her body and the way she held herself, as if she knew how to use them, reminded me of Katrine—most likely because I’d seen her last night outside of Ian’s clinic. There really was very little that was similar between the two women beyond a huge rack—and even that wasn’t the same, since Katrine’s was bought and paid for, and this one appeared to be a gift, or perhaps a curse, from God.

Her hair fell long and straight to the middle of her back, framing a wide, attractive face that spoke of very few white ancestors and a whole lot of Cherokee. The type of face one didn’t see often around here anymore.

I got out of the car. “Hello. I’m Grace McDaniel.”

The woman shaded her eyes against the bright morning sun. “Grandmother’s spoken of you so often I feel like I know you.”

I couldn’t say the same for her. I hadn’t even known Quatie had children until she’d mentioned this relative.

“Is Quatie here?”

“No. She went—” The young woman waved a hand toward the trees. “You know how she is.”

I did. Even though I’d asked her not to wander, I’d known she wouldn’t listen. At least there was someone here now who would go searching for the old woman immediately if she didn’t come back.

“I’m Dr. Walker.” Ian stepped forward, waiting pointedly for her to introduce herself.

I silently thanked him for that. I hadn’t wanted to admit to the girl that Quatie had never mentioned her until this week. I’d had enough instances of that in my childhood, when I’d met acquaintances of my father’s who’d been very familiar with the names of his sons but had no inkling he had a daughter at all.

She smiled at Ian the way all women must. “I’m Adsila.”

“ ‘Blossom,’ “ Ian translated.

“Yes.”

She did resemble a blossom, all fresh and new. But she also looked like Quatie around the eyes and the mouth, which made me warm to her right away.

Adsila came down the steps and crossed the grass, holding out her hand. Ian took it and shook, but when he tried to release her, she held on.

“I have to thank you for helping my grandmother.”

“Not a problem. I enjoyed meeting her.” He tugged on his hand; she didn’t let go.

My eyes narrowed. He couldn’t be tugging too hard.

“You must be very good,” she murmured, her voice low, almost suggestive. “At everything you do.”

I wanted to shout, Hey, I’m right here! but she obviously didn’t care. I was certain this kind of thing happened to Ian all the time. Combine his face, that body, and a medical degree ... He was kind of asking for it.

“I do my best.”

“I bet your best is amazing.”

Ian coughed, or maybe he choked. My warm, friendly feeling cooled. She might just be grateful because he’d helped Quatie feel better; I know I was. But if Adsila thought she was going to show him her gratitude the way that I’d been showing my gratitude...

I cleared my throat. They both glanced in my direction, and Ian succeeded in retrieving his hand. Adsila smiled, shrugged as if to say, You can’t blame a girl for trying, and stepped back.