Dick insisted that Nola, a registered nurse, give me a full medical checkup after the perils of my trip and getting into multiple scuffles with shifters and former boyfriends. Nola assured me, in her strange Boston-Irish accent, that I was perfectly fine. A little underfed but fine. She prescribed a diet of whatever the hell I wanted to eat and lots of liquids.
It took me a while to adjust to this many people in one place wanting to talk to me. They were friendly and sincere. They were also loud and boisterous and laughed a lot, and did I mention loud? They really seemed to enjoy one another. Not because they were obligated to be there but because they genuinely needed to spend time together.
I didn’t think I would ever reach the sheer scope of relationships that Jane’s group had, but I didn’t think I would mind expanding my circle a little. Maybe I would finally join that book club Rachel had been bugging me about. Mass-market paperbacks only, nothing valuable.
Friar Thomas’s book was safely contained in the Council’s sixth level, wherever that was. Jane had agreed to photocopy everything but the last chapter and distribute the information to whichever shifter clans requested it. Being an insular species, they weren’t exactly clamoring to join Jane’s proposed shifter Council, but members of the Kelley and Trudeau clans were volunteering. And that was a start.
Jane brought me yet another bottle of water while I chatted with Zeb. She’d noticed that I’d taken to carrying a drink with me wherever I went over the last couple of days, a by-product of thinking about dehydration constantly while in the woods. She put the bottle next to me on the garden table. “So is this a humans-only conversation, or can anyone join in?”
“I was just telling Anna here that she should come back when she can spend more time at your shop,” Zeb said.
“And I was telling Zeb that I wasn’t sure if I wanted to hang around your shop if you have more ‘treasures’ like Friar Thomas’s book lurking around,” I said.
“Probably wise,” Jane agreed.
“It was nice talking to you, Zeb,” I said, as he stood up.
“Keep in touch,” Zeb told me. “This group, it’s kind of like the Mafia; once you’re marked as ours, it’s a lifetime commitment.”
“But a friendly Mafia,” Jane assured me. “With Secret Santa exchanges and hugs. I don’t think the Mafia does Secret Santa.”
“Not the East Coast branches, at least,” I said, before I drained my water glass in two gulps. “Can you tell me where Finn ended up?”
“I’m not sure. We questioned him, determined that he eventually did the right thing, and sentenced him to community service and a fine to compensate for his part in endangering you. He also has to write a thousand-page essay on why it doesn’t pay to be an unscrupulous douchebag.”
“You mean a thousand words?”
“No, a thousand pages,” she said again. “He has the time. And I think it will do him good to invest some effort into something that doesn’t come easily to him.”
“Still a lighter sentence than I expected,” I told her.
“I may not like him. But I know you do. And I generally try not to kill people my friends find redeemable.”
“I appreciate that,” I told Jane. I sighed. “I’m really going to miss the people I’ve met here. I mean, I know I just met you and Jed and Dick. It’s probably trauma bonding or something. But really, I wish I could just pack you all up and take you home with me.”
“Well, I’m all for it, but the Council probably wouldn’t appreciate it after taking the time to saddle—I mean, appoint me to this job,” she said, rolling her eyes. “You know, when I was human, my circle was pretty limited, and that’s if you consider the one human friend I’d known since elementary school a ‘circle.’ But after I was turned, it was like my whole world opened up, and I just collected people along the way. I’m much happier now.”
“That point sounds awfully pointy, Jane.”
Jane put her arm around me, a gesture that only last week would have made me tense up if it came from anyone but Rachel. “I know what it’s like to limit yourself because you’re afraid of being rejected or hurt. And thinking that way can only hurt you in other ways—other less healthy, more sad ways.”
“I will try to keep that in mind,” I promised. “Besides, after the week I’ve had, going to the grocery store for myself, meeting new people, joining a gym—they all seem a lot less scary.”
“You don’t have to rush off, you know. You’re welcome to stick around for a few more weeks. The public relations division of the Council is still spinning your ‘miracle survival’ with the assistance of an upstanding undead citizen pretty hard. You might want to wait until the reporters lose interest before you head home.”