“Good luck with that.” He started back for his car.
“Hell, I could do a better job than this clown,” Cormac said. “At least I can admit when I’m in over my head.”
He didn’t even try to say it softly, so Marks couldn’t hear. No—he raised his voice, so Marks couldn’t help but hear.
Marks turned around, glaring. “What did you say?”
Cormac scuffed his boot on the porch and pretended he hadn’t heard.
“You’d better watch yourself,” Marks said, pointing. “You so much as breathe wrong and I’ll get you.”
The hunter remained slouching against the railing, as unflappable as ever. He wasn’t going to be the one to shoot first in a fight. I wasn’t sure Marks knew that.
Marks started back to his car.
“Sheriff, what do I do about them?” I pointed at the dogs. Some of them were swaying gently, as the trees they were tied to creaked in a faint breeze. A garbage bag or a quickly dug hole wasn’t going to clean this up.
“Call animal control,” he said. The sound of his car door slamming echoed.
I fumed, unable to come up with a word angry enough for what I wanted to hurl after him.
Hearing steps in the house, I turned around. Ben emerged, standing just outside the doorway and staring out. “Holy shit, what’s this?”
“Curse,” I said.
“Yeah, I guess so.”
“I don’t suppose anyone’s up for breakfast,” Cormac said.
“Are you joking?” I said. He smiled. My God, he was joking.
“You two go inside. I’ll take care of this.”
“Sure you don’t need help?” Ben said.
“I’m sure.”
Ben hesitated, like he needed convincing. I pulled his arm, guided him inside. He said, “Does this sort of thing happen to you a lot?”
It was starting to seem like it. “I don’t know.”
“Is it because you’re a werewolf or because you’re you?”
Now that was an excellent question. I didn’t really want to know the answer.
When my phone rang later that day, I almost screamed, because the noise was like claws on a chalkboard. Mom’s call.
Cormac hadn’t come back yet from taking care of the mess outside. Ben had gone back to bed. I didn’t know if he was sleeping.
I curled up on the sofa. “Hi, Mom.”
“Hi, Kitty. Are you okay? You sound a little off.”
A little off. Ha. “I’m about the same as the last time we talked. Things could be better, but I’m hanging in there.” Hanging. I shouldn’t have said that. Didn’t want to hear about anything having to do with hanging.
“What’s wrong? I wish there was something I could do to help. You’ll let me know if there’s anything I can do—”
“Thanks, Mom. I can’t really think of anything. Unless you know something about blood magic?”