Which is why, in the end, I don’t wait for them to say anything. Instead I pour out the whole story, starting with the trip to the art cottage and ending with my blood-soaked clothes, which I pull out of my bag and hand to Uncle Finn.
He doesn’t look excited about taking them, but then, who would? Especially when I just dumped a problem of massive proportions right onto his sturdy wooden desk.
“Are you okay?” Jaxon asks the second I finally stop talking. “You’re sure he didn’t manage to hurt you somehow? You’re sure he didn’t bite you?”
I freeze at the urgency in his tone. “Why? What happens if he bites me? I don’t turn into a werewolf, do I?” Because that would just make the clusterfuck that’s become my life complete.
A gargoyle werewolf? Or a werewolf gargoyle? Weregoyle? Garwolf? I do not want to be a garwolf.
Then again, who cares what the proper term is? I shake my head to clear it. I just know that I really, really, really don’t want to turn into one.
“No,” Uncle Finn interjects in a voice meant to talk me off whatever ledge I’m dangling on—which, okay. Fair enough. “It doesn’t work like that. You aren’t going to turn into a werewolf or anything else.”
“So how does it work? And while we’re at it, how can I have possibly beaten up Cole and taken it? It doesn’t make any sense. Why don’t I remember it? How could I have just gone to bed covered in blood and not even noticed?”
Uncle Finn just sighs and runs a hand through his sandy-brown hair. “I don’t know.”
I give my uncle a disbelieving look. “You’re the headmaster of a school filled with paranormals. How can ‘I don’t know’ be the best answer you’ve got?”
“Because I’ve never seen anything like this before. And by the way, the whole gargoyle thing is as new to the rest of us as it is to you. We’ve been learning while you were gone, of course, but there’s still a lot we don’t know.”
“Obviously.” I don’t mean to sound snarky; I really don’t. I know he just wants to help. But what am I supposed to do here? I can’t just go around assaulting people. The whole I-don’t-remember thing is going to get old fast. God knows it’s already old for me.
Macy steps between us. “So what do we do, Dad? How do we stop this from happening again?”
I wrap my arms around my waist and hold on tight. “You’re not going to call the police, are you? I didn’t mean to hurt him. Honestly, I still can’t figure out how I did hurt him. He’s—”
“No one’s calling the police, Grace,” Jaxon tells me firmly. “That’s not how we handle things here. And even if we did, you can’t be held responsible for something you did when you weren’t aware. Right, Foster?”
“Of course. I mean, we’re going to have to watch you, make sure this doesn’t happen again. You can’t go around assaulting other students.”
“Even if they deserve it,” Macy interjects. “I know it’s wrong, but after everything Cole did to you last semester, I’m having a hard time feeling sympathy for the guy.”
Jaxon snorts. “I should have killed him when I had the shot. Then this never would have happened.”
“No, you shouldn’t have,” I scold him. “That’s a horrible thing to say.”
“Horrible,” Macy agrees, “but also a little bit true.”
I shoot her a what-the-hell look, but she just kind of shrugs, as if to say, What did you expect?
With no help from her or Jaxon, I turn to my uncle. “How is Cole, anyway? Is he going to be okay?”
“He’ll be fine. He got a couple of blood transfusions this morning and will probably spend the rest of the day in the infirmary resting, but he’ll be fine tomorrow. Good thing about paranormals? We bounce back quickly, especially with a little help from our healers.”
“Oh, thank God.” I slump against Jaxon as relief sweeps through me.
Defending myself against Lia when she was trying to kill me was one thing. Deliberately going out of my way to try to hurt Cole for no reason is something else entirely. I’m pretty sure Cole is going to think so, too.
“Has he said anything?” I ask after I give myself a chance to wallow in the relief that I didn’t do any permanent damage. “I mean, he has to know that I’m the one who attacked him, right?”
“His story is he doesn’t know who attacked him,” my uncle answers. “Which may or may not be true.”
“It’s a bunch of bullshit,” Jaxon says flatly.
“We don’t know that,” Uncle Finn admonishes. “And if he doesn’t know it was Grace who attacked him, I’m not about to spread the word. At least not until we figure out what’s happening to her.”
“He knows,” Jaxon says. “He just doesn’t want to say, because then he’d have to admit to the whole school that he got beaten up by a girl.”
“Hey!” I give Jaxon a grumpy face.
“His thinking, not mine,” Jaxon clarifies, dropping a kiss on the top of my head. “I saw what you did to Lia—and Hudson. No way would I want to mess with you. But Cole doesn’t think like that. He can’t.
“Because if the alpha werewolf admits to getting the crap kicked out of him by anyone while he was conscious, then he might as well hang it up. He’ll spend the next month fighting off every werewolf in the pack who thinks they have a shot at alpha status.” Jaxon glances at my uncle. “Right, Foster?”
Uncle Finn nods reluctantly. “Pretty much, yeah. After what happened with Jaxon in November…he has to be very careful how he plays this.”
“Which means you’ve got to be careful, too, Grace.” Macy speaks up for the first time in several minutes. “Because if he knows you’re the one who did this…the one who has threatened everything he’s been working for, he’s going to come after you. He won’t do it blatantly, because Jaxon would gut him, but he will find a way. That’s who he is.”
“A coward.” Jaxon sneers.
Uncle Finn holds my gaze. “But that only makes him more dangerous, Grace. Because he’s not me. He’s sly and crafty, and he knows how to bide his time. I would talk to him, but if I do that, he’ll know that you must have told me what happened. And then he’ll be wondering who else knows. And how long it will be before everything blows up in his face.”
“You really think he’ll try something?” I ask, my gaze darting between Jaxon and my uncle.
“Not if he’s half as bright as Foster’s giving him credit for,” Jaxon tells me. But the look in his eyes says something different.