Damn. He was fast. I smiled so hard my cheeks hurt. "You're okay?" I breathed. He looked okay, seemed okay. I still needed to hear him say it.
His smile faltered, and my heart pounded. He was hurt, angry. Upset I'd infected him as he called it. And how had I done that? I'd been with plenty of humans. None of them had turned into shifters. I wondered if it had something to do with not using a condom, but I'd gotten blowjobs before. It shouldn't matter which—
"What are you thinking about?" Phineas snapped. He watched my face with an intensity that was definitely new. Leaning forward, he sniffed, and his lip curled. "Who are you thinking about?"
Damn, great at shifting and at interpreting my emotions. Some shifters could smell emotions better than others. Some, not at all. Seemed Phin could.
"No one important in my life. I'm just trying to figure out why this happened to you. To Riley. Are you… mad? You didn't ask to be a shifter."
"Are you kidding me?" Phineas asked, turning his head sharply in the direction of the driveway. "Someone's coming." He dropped down to all fours and took off out the door before I could stop him.
Branson rolled down the driveway. He spotted Phineas through the windshield, looked up to see me, and then slowed to a stop several feet away from where he normally parked.
Phineas let out a bark, and I found the thing he wasn't quite good at yet. It sounded like a puppy's yelp, not nearly as ferocious as he likely wanted. He tried again before looking back at me, one ear up, the other flopped over his eye and an expression that said, help me out here.
"Down boy," I said, and he growled.
"Is that Phin?" Branson asked, getting out.
"Does this mean he's pregnant?" Aver asked.
Oh shit. I hadn't thought of that. Neither had Phineas. He shifted immediately, turning into my waiting arms. Now, his eyes were wide. Not with fear, but healthy concern. "Is that what this means, Nash?"
My mouth gaped like a fish. I wanted to be able to give him an answer, something that would relieve him. But I didn't know what this meant, so it was no surprise when I heard myself say, "We need to call Nana."
"She won't leave Grandpa," Aver said, the three of us going in. Branson had hurried past to greet Riley. "Not if Phin is fine. Which he looks to be. And really good at shifting. Good job."
Phin stood a little straighter at the compliment, his steps becoming more of a strut. I tried not to be jealous that someone else had made my Phin happy. "I just think about it, and it happens. Which is weird because I used to do that a lot as a kid. Not to turn into a wolf, but something amazing. It never worked then."
When we got back inside, Riley had baby Bran on the couch. "He wakes up about this time anyway. You guys aren't usually awake," Riley explained with a yawn.
Normally, Riley got some sleep before this time too.
"I called Nana. She said she'd call back," Branson said. "Drinks?" he asked. Riley took a tea, and Phin asked for a pop, while Aver and I opted for beer. "Is the sugar good for the baby?" Branson asked.
"Now don't you start that," Riley snarled. "You let Phineas eat and drink whatever it is that he wants. You hear me, Phin? Don't let these guys bully you. You want coffee, you drink coffee."
We all knew Riley was referring to a particular time in his life when things were confusing, and we'd all gone a little crazy trying to help. He wouldn't actually advocate that Phin do anything that would harm his baby.
If he had a baby.
Why didn't that freak me out more? I wasn't sure why I even wondered. When it came to Phineas, none of my normal reactions were the same.
"Is this a for-sure thing?" Phineas asked.
"No. I don't think we've experienced this enough to know anything for sure. We've got Riley to go off of. And you're already different than he was."
"We don't need to rub it in!" Riley wailed. Clearly, he was taking Phin's natural shifter instincts a little hard. Branson returned with drinks, kissing his hand, and Riley sighed. "I am happy for you, Phineas. But before, I could say I was having a hard time because I was the only human turned shifter. Now, I can't. Is there something wrong with me?"
That was nonsense. All shifters were different. Some shifted young; some had a hard time all through their teens. There were even some that preferred their human bodies and never shifted. There was no stigma attached to whichever category you fell in. But I knew Branson would see to his mate, so I turned my attention back to the room.
"We'll need to get tests, and I want Nana to look Phin over. But while we wait for her to call, did any of you pick up anything odd around Alpha Walker's home?"
I'd sniffed every inch, coming up empty.
"Nothing. I smelled you, the firemen, and shifters, but nothing that stuck out."
I nodded. "That was my experience as well. I picked out each of the firemen, Chief, Charles, Paster, and Krat, and a ton of shifters, but no scents stuck out to me. And if it is arson, then the perpetrator would have to be someone who had been here before. They would've needed to tamper with the grill, ensuring the next time anyone used it…"
"Boom," Riley whispered.
Branson growled. "Who was at the party and on pack lands?"
Other than us, I could think of another easily. "Paul."
"'No way," Phineas interjected. "Paul? He's your guys's helper, I thought. He wouldn't hurt you."
I didn't like saying it as much as everyone didn't want to hear it, but I wouldn't blind myself because the truth was hard to look at. "He's Delia's sponsee."
"He's been nothing but helpful," Riley said. "And you've always disliked him."
"I've always disliked his connection to the pack."
"You're connected to the pack," Riley shot back.
"Not by choice," I replied more intensely than I should have, and Branson growled in warning.
"It won't do us any good to focus on one person," Phineas said quietly. He ducked under my arm, and I held him close. "I agree with Nash. We shouldn't discount anyone if we have reason to believe they are a suspect, but we'd damn our efforts just as much by focusing on one person before we know for sure it is them."
Aver nodded, looking like he wished he'd said the same thing.
"How'd you get so good at this?" I asked him, hoping he knew that was a compliment and not a veiled dig.
"I went through a mystery board game phase. You guys would really like One Night Ultimate Werewolf, where you have to guess who the werewolf is, and it's like that game Mafia, but—maybe we can talk about this another time."
I didn't want to stop my mate from sharing any excitement he held, but he was right. We had a few topics of conversation that were more important at the moment.
"I guess what we need to decide first and foremost—is this a pack issue or an us thing?" Branson asked.
Riley's mouth popped open. Clearly, he found that question callous, but I understood. If this was an us thing, we'd find out who was responsible and make them sorry. But if it was a pack thing, the smartest thing we could do was distance ourselves from the pack. Maybe the arsonist only targeted us because they thought we were more connected to the pack than we were.