Darkmoon(72)

“So that’s her talent,” Connor murmured. “I was sort of wondering. Now we’ve got to get her and Lucas together. They’d clean up in Vegas.”

“I’m serious, Connor.”

“So am I.”

There didn’t seem to be anything for it except for me to smack him in the arm. He managed to wince and chuckle at the same time. “Anyway,” I went on, trying to shoot him an evil glare, one that wasn’t very effective because I could feel my lips start to twitch with answering laughter, “what I was trying to say is that I know what the people in my clan can do, but it’s the same thing they’ve always done. It doesn’t really change. Our powers start to show up when we’re around ten or eleven, sometimes later, but after that, they are what they are. So I don’t see how mine could suddenly morph into something new.”

He lifted his glass of mineral water, polished it off, and then poured himself some more from the bottle sitting on the table. Afterward, he tilted it slightly toward me, offering me some. I shook my head. The fizzy bubbles were starting to get to my stomach. “Well, remember what Maya said?”

I shook my head, not understanding what he was getting at.

“She said nothing like this had happened before, that never had a prima and a primus been together the way we are, so we’re basically in uncharted territory.”

“But she was only talking about us being together,” I pointed out. “She wasn’t talking about our talents.”

“Okay, maybe, but take it a step further. Maybe the mere fact of us being together, being joined like this, is doing something to our talents…having them, I don’t know, evolve or something.”

That sounded vaguely ominous. Not that I’d always enjoyed being able to talk to ghosts, but at least I was used to it by now. Although I was happy for Mary, glad that she had finally been able to reunite with the ones she loved, my role in her moving on made me uneasy. I’d already had enough changes in my life. I didn’t really want to cope with the possibility that I myself might be changing, too.

“Well, if that’s your hypothesis,” I said, “then it should be easy enough to prove. Try taking on the appearance of someone who isn’t your approximate size.”

Now it was his turn to look uncomfortable. He didn’t protest, though, only asked, “Like who?”

“How about Maya herself? She’s at least a foot shorter than you are.”

He expelled a breath, then nodded. “Okay. Let me think about that for a second.” His lids dropped, as if he were trying to visualize her with his mind’s eye and didn’t want any interference from the outside world.

And there was Maya sitting at the table with me, her dark eyes glinting with mischief.

“Holy shit!” I exclaimed, and Connor winked back into existence, replacing the Maya illusion that had been there a second earlier.

“So I’m guessing it worked,” he said.

“That’s for sure.” Pausing, I studied him for a few seconds, making sure he looked exactly like himself and nothing else. Which he did, from the sweep of the heavy black hair at his brow to the finely sculpted lips, those lips I loved to kiss. “Did it…feel…any different?”

His head tilted slightly as he considered the question. “Maybe. I was definitely seeing the world as she would see it — you know, from about a foot lower down. That did feel kind of strange.”

I supposed it would, for someone used to seeing things from a commanding six-foot-three. “Anything else?”

“Not really. I mean, I visualized Maya in my mind, the same way I visualized Lucas when I took on his appearance. And it just…happened. But I’d never been able to do anything like that before.”

So it seemed we were both changing…or at least our powers were. What that meant, I had no idea.



* * *



Although we really didn’t have that much stuff to move, several Wilcox cousins I vaguely recognized from the Christmas party came over with their pickup trucks and SUVs to assist with transferring our things to the new house. I didn’t know if they were just trying to be helpful, or whether what they really wanted was a peek at their primus’ new digs. Whatever the reason, I was grateful for their help, because pretty much everything was taken care of by the time four o’clock rolled around. Connor shared a beer with them, then waved goodbye as they all took off, leaving us alone in the new house.

“Well,” I said.

“Well, indeed.” We were standing on the front walkway, watching as the last of the vehicles disappeared around a bend and into the trees. Connor reached out and brushed away a wisp of hair that had escaped my ponytail. His expression was hard to read — tired, yes, but there was a peace to it I hadn’t seen for a long time. But then a corner of his mouth lifted, and he asked, “Do you want me to carry you over the threshold?”