“When do shifter children start to shift?”
“Oh, when they’re little, but they can’t control it at first. That control has to be learned over time.” She laughed. “I remember my mother complaining how it took me until I was five years old to control my spontaneous shifting. It drove her nuts. Shifters aren’t allowed to go to school until they’ve learned to control it, so there are community daycares among the Packs. Giving mothers a break from their children is vital—a shifter child who is constantly turning into a wolf and piddling on the floor and knocking over stuff is absolutely exhausting.”
“I think most children are exhausting,” I said, grinning. “I’m not very maternal, and I’ve never been one of those women whose biological clock went off with a shrieking alarm.”
Tally snorted. “I hope you’ll consider babysitting, at least. I’m going to need my brothers’ support, as well as that of my parents.” She poked me in the arm. “Considering you’re likely to end up as ‘auntie’ to my children.”
There was something about the way she said the latter. I squinted at her and then caught a hint of a thought. “You’re having twins?”
She blinked. “What—how did…” Pausing, she threw her hands in the air. “You’re a witch. I don’t know what I expected. Yes, but I haven’t even told Killian yet. I thought you’d take the ‘children’ part generically, to mean any I have down the road. But yeah, twins and triplets are a lot more common among any sort of canid shifter.”
“Does Les know?” I wondered how many more surprises Tally had hidden up her sleeve.
“Yes, he knows, and of course, the doctor. And now, you. I want to wait to tell Killian until I also tell my parents. So please don’t give me away?”
I gave her a quick hug. “I promise, I won’t say anything. Come on, let’s set the table. I don’t want Killian to feel awkward eating alone. Even though we ate a late lunch, I can manage a slice.”
“I can manage more than that. Ever since I got pregnant I’ve been ravenous.”
The next moment, Killian burst through the door. He sniffed the air, making a beeline for the pizza on the table. “That smells divine. I’m so hungry I could eat a horse.”
I slipped into the kitchen and brought back three plates and some napkins, since Tally indicated she decided to eat too. We gathered around the table and Killian loaded up his plate after I had taken a slice and Tally had taken two. I loved pizza but lunch had been filling, so I nibbled on mine. Tally managed to pack hers away quickly, though.
Killian glanced at me. “You all right? You’re not eating much.”
“I had a snack earlier. So I found your solstice gift today.” I grinned at him. He waited for a moment, looking at me expectantly. “You don’t think I’m going to tell you what it is, do you?”
“Apparently not,” he said with a grin, going back to his pizza.
While he ate I told him about the decorations I had bought. “I want my house to be visible to the astronauts!”
“Well, you’re getting there,” he said. He glanced out the window. “I think I might wait to put them out though, if you don’t mind.”
I followed his gaze. Not only was it growing dark, it was pouring rain. The raindrops bounced off the sidewalks and streamed into the gutters along the curb, turning them into streams that swiftly rolled along the street.
“I’m glad we live up on a hill,” I said. “Too many houses around here flood if they’re in a low-lying area. I wonder if we’ll see snow this year.”
“I’m pretty sure we will,” Killian said.
“It’s snowing on the passes,” Talia said, glancing at her weather app on her phone. “That means it’s snowing up in Carbonado.”
Carbonado was the town where Killian’s parents and Tally lived. It was up near Mount Rainier, a little town high in the mountains above the Puyallup Valley. Killian and Tally’s brother Darryn lived in Puyallup proper, and he was a mechanic. Their mother was a fifth-grade teacher and their father was an accountant. I had met them briefly when they came to visit Killian in the middle of summer, but we hadn’t had much time to spend together. They were nice people, and they seemed open to Killian dating me, even though I wasn’t a shifter.
“So, what’s going on with the Majikoil case?” Killian asked.
“Tomorrow night Ari and I are supposed to meet with Sheryl and pay her the money for the buy-in. Rowan’s coming over early to fit us with the wires. We go in and then we have to get Sheryl to promise that we’ll make not only money, but extra life energy by recruiting. And we have to do it before she draws the life energy off of us or we’re going to be in trouble.”
Tally swiveled her head. “What?”
“Unlike the typical pyramid scheme, Majikoil drains life off its reps. Or rather, Sheryl does. That’s why the recruitment process is so important. You have to recruit others in order to gain back the years that you lose to your upline. Life energy doesn’t regenerate.”
Killian very carefully set down his piece of pizza and stared at me. “You mean they drain you of life?”
I nodded. “It’s not magical energy. That you could regain. No, Sheryl is draining her recruits of a percentage of their life. Fifteen percent, to be precise.”
“How do you know how long you’re going to live, or rather, how does she know? How does she know how much to drain off of you?”
“There’s a spell that can do that. It’s a very high-level spell, and no ethical witch will perform that spell willingly unless there’s a damned good reason. The spell itself can sense how long you have to live, but you’ll never know the answer. It will siphon off the appropriate amount of life that it’s programmed to. Of course, whoever is on the receiving end will be able to tell whether your life is long or short. It’s a complicated process, and I don’t fully understand it myself. Except for the most important thing: Ari and I could lose years off our lives.”
Killian leaned his elbows on the table and rested his chin on his folded hands, staring at me. “You know that I think it’s ridiculous for the Court Magika to put you in this position. What happens if they don’t make it in time? What happens if she manages to drain several years off of your life?”
“If I have the normal lifespan of anyone who’s witchblood, it’s more than several years. Hell, it could be up to twenty years or more. Look at the Aseer — she’s over four hundred years old. She’s the exception rather than the rule, but there are a number of witches who live into their late two to three hundreds. I could lose up to forty-five years if my destiny slates me to live that long.”
“Damn, she’s accruing a tidy lifespan, isn’t she?” Tally asked. “And what happens when the pyramid scheme runs out of juice?”
“Then a lot of people get screwed over,” I said. “Which is why Ari and I are doing this.”
Killian picked over his pizza. “I know I can’t stop you, but please be careful?”
I pressed my lips together, staring at the table. I didn’t want him to know that I was honestly scared, because he would encourage me to back out of the whole situation. And I had given my promise. Sheryl Brown was hurting a lot of people.