Silver Basilisk (Silver Shifters 4)

She uttered a sniff that was closer to a snort. “Just as well. Basilisk or not, I have some roommates you really don’t want to spring any surprises on.” She finished with a flash of her old grin, the one that had first enchanted him all those years ago.

In spite of all that had changed, some things were still true as gold, and one of those was her shining spirit. It took all the strength he had left to refrain from hugging and kissing her. He smiled, and said as lightly as he knew how, “I’ll take you back.”

Chapter 7

GODIVA

There were so many emotions whirling through her head that at first she wasn’t even aware of the silence as he drove her back into town.

Next time she looked up, he was turning onto her street. He pulled up to the driveway, but then stopped, and faced her in the dark. “Godiva, I promised myself—and our son—that there would be no secrets between us, if I ever got a second chance.”

“Okay,” she said, peering up at his face. But all that she could make out was the jut of his cheekbone, and the clean line of his jaw in the light of the streetlamp fifty yards away. “Why do I hear a but?”

“Because telling the truth also means laying a huge secret on you. I probably should have asked first. Though how to get at it without any hints would take better skills than I’ve got. The thing is, shifters are a secret from the rest of the world. You can imagine why.”

She tried to imagine Rigo walking before Congress and turning into a basilisk. “Riots, fear. Government controls,” she said, shuddering. “Maybe even labs and experiments.”

“No maybe. That part has already happened,” he answered grimly. “The bad thing about secret labs is little to no oversight. These ended as badly as you can imagine.”

“Okay. I get it that it’s a secret. And that you and our son are not the only ones. So how many are there?”

“Shifters are a very small part of the general population. And we mythic shifters are an even smaller part of that number. We do have our bad guys—what group doesn’t—but we try to take care of our own. Which is yet another story that I’ll have to get to, but not tonight. The thing I think I’d better tell you right now is, you do happen to be friends with some shifters. But their mates were sworn to secrecy.”

“I do?” Godiva cast her mind over her household. Wendy? Godiva could easily imagine her some fiercely loyal animal. Loving as well as lovable, and cuddly. But Wendy and she had talked so much about every part of Wendy’s life that Godiva was very sure she’d know about it by now. Doris? No, not practical Doris!

So . . . who?

“I have his permission to tell you, if you want to know,” Rigo said, his face still in shadow.

“His,” Godiva repeated, looking confused. “You already told me about Alejo . . . You said friends. I don’t have a ton of male friends. Who?”

“Joey Hu.”

“Joey?” Godiva repeated, thinking that he’d be the last one she would have guessed. There were some tough guys she sort-of knew, like Jen’s kung fu master at her studio. She could see him being a lion or a bear. But Joey Hu? Joey wasn’t all that much taller than she was, slight, kindly. “I just can’t see him as a huge . . . critter.”

“He’s a nine-tail fox,” Rigo said.

“A fox! Even with nine tails, that’s somehow much easier to believe than he’s a rhino or an elephant. Wait a minute. You said mates. You don’t mean mates in the Australian sense—buddies, bros.”

“No, I mean the love of one’s life.” His voice had gone husky. “Shifters mate for life.”

Shifters mate for life. She felt the resonance through her bones, pooling down deep where she’d done her best to put out the fires years ago. Life was so much easier that way.

With an effort that was almost physical, she wrenched her mind back on track. Maybe other shifters mated for life, but Rigo clearly hadn’t, or there would not have been a half century of silence.

Anyway, right now it wasn’t about her. “But that would be . . . Doris? Doris knows about shifters?” Godiva asked, light-headed with amazement. “You’re serious! Okay, I really have to take time out, or my head might explode. Practical, no-nonsense Doris, high school teacher Doris, cookbook-writing Doris, knowing about werewolves and minotaurs?”

“Talk to her. I think,” he said in a soft, tentative tone, “it will probably come as a relief. I suspect, from the little I saw of her, she did not like keeping the secret from you. No one did.”

“No one? There’s more?”

Rigo sighed. “I think I’ve done enough damage for one night. We can take this up after you’ve gotten some time to process. Rest up. If you want to trade numbers, I can call you tomorrow. Or you can call me.”

Numbly she held out her phone. He stilled a moment, and she sensed that something had changed between them, but she was far too tired and too dazed to pursue it.

In silence he got the numbers paired, and handed the phone back. Their fingers met briefly. His were warm, and she felt his touch linger after she whacked the car door open and stepped out into her driveway.

The familiar ocean breeze steadied her. She drew it in, turning in a slow circle. Yes, the world was still the world. Familiar night birds called in the distance, and a neighbor’s tiny rescue chiweenie gave a yip of welcome, letting her known he was on the job as Watchdog for the Block.