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the
countertops all the way around the room. The center island was
taken up by mixing bowls, empty egg cartons, and an electric mixer.
Flour dusted the floor.
    “I’ve been stressed,” Fee said, a sheepish
smile on her face.
    “Holy crumpets,” Cambria breathed.
    “Would you like to try some?” Fee asked.
“I’d hate to let it go to waste.”
    “Would I …?” Cambria trailed off, looking
around with wide eyes. I couldn’t help but laugh.
    “You just made her day,” I told Fee. “Her
favorite food group is dessert. You better get her a jug of
milk.”
    Fee headed straight for the fridge. “Coming
right up. In the meantime, George is upstairs in your old room if
you want to go say hi.”
    “Thanks.” I shot her a grateful look, but
she was already bent over a cake, cutting a hefty slice for
Cambria.
    I hurried up the stairs, stopping outside
the door and leaning against the wall. Grandma and Fee had said to
be prepared for a different George, that he’d be tired and weak
from the treatment Fee gave him to slow the change. Every time I
called, he was either sleeping or too sick to come to the phone. I
had no idea what to expect.
    I took a deep breath and knocked softly.
    “Come in.”
    I turned the knob and pushed the door back.
George lay under a pile of blankets, obscured from sight. He lifted
his head a little and smiled at me before falling back against the
pillow. I hovered in the doorway, shocked by the changes in him,
despite Grandma’s warning.
    “Tay, finally,” he said. His voice was
small, nothing like the old George. He didn’t sit up again.
    “George?” I wandered closer, slowly, biting
back the surprise. I lowered myself to the edge of the bed and
stared down at him.
    His eyes were ringed with dark circles,
purple bruises that extended up over his eyelids. It was more than
lack of sleep; his sockets were hollowed out and his cheeks gaunt.
His lips were chapped and his skin flushed pink. I put a hand to
his forehead. Heat radiated from his skin.
    “I’m here,” I said. “How are you?”
    “Okay.” His eyes were glassy. We both knew
he was lying.
    “What’s happening?” I asked.
    “My body—” he began then stopped as a
coughing fit seized him. It didn’t let up for several moments. He
pointed to the empty glass next to a pitcher of water on the
nightstand and I jumped up, thankful for something to do. I filled
the glass and handed it to him, then raised it to his lips when his
hands shook too much to hold it without spilling. He managed a
small swallow between coughs and then fell back. Finally, he
quieted.
    “My body,” he said again, “started to change
a couple of weeks ago. Fee said it was the new moon cycle. I
shifted about halfway and then something got stuck and it stopped.
Threw out my back and cracked a couple of ribs. Fee managed to
reverse the damage, and put some sort of block on me so I won’t
shift again. But the block is making me sick.” He coughed again and
I tensed, worried it would be another episode like the first, but
it subsided. “I’m glad you’re here.”
    “Me too. I’m sorry it took so long, but
we’re going to figure this out. You just need to hold on a little
longer. Can I get you anything?” I took his hand in mine and held
it lightly, afraid too much pressure would hurt him even worse.
    “No, I’m all right. Fee’s taking good care
of me.” He smiled. “She’s pretty awesome.”
    “She is, isn’t she?”
    “Fee told me some stuff. About Miles. And
his dad, your uncle Leo. She said you killed Leo by yourself in
that warehouse. It sounded really brave.”
    “It wasn’t nearly as premeditated as it
sounds, believe me. Mostly blind luck.”
    “You don’t give yourself enough credit, Tay.
You protect humans from Werewolves. You’re amazing. Besides, it
explains a lot. Finding out about your past and who you really are,
that had to be tough. Not to mention the little bit of family you
found turned out to be crazy and now dead.