When he emerged, she was sitting on the foot of a bed, hands on her lap, trying to look as unthreatening as possible for the talk they had to have.
“How do you feel?” she asked.
He shrugged.
“Are you in pain? I have some medication that might help.” Acetaminophen bought for an outrageous price at a gas station. She showed him the bottle.
He bit his lip, the wariness back in his gaze.
“I know things seem kind of strange and scary right now, but I promise I only want to help you. Not hurt. Watch.” She poured out the children’s medicine into the tiny supplied cup and drank the liquid sweet. “This stuff will help with the pain.”
He nodded, and she could have sighed in relief as he took the whole dose.
She kept talking. “Just so you know, we’ll only be in this room for the night. Tomorrow, we’re back on the road. Two more sleeps and we’ll be at the house. I already have a bed for you.”
“Me?” He poked himself in the belly.
“Yes, you. And my other son, Dominick, plus my daughter, Pamela. We’re all going to live together.”
“Doctors?” Just the one word, but it showed what he feared.
“None, unless you need a check-up, but I’ll be with you the entire time and if a doctor or anyone tries to hurt you, boom in the kisser.” She mimed boxing, and to her delight, the boy laughed.
“Like Bugs.” He pointed to the television now turned off.
“Yes, like Bugs. I’m going to take care of you, ST, if you’ll let me.”
He didn’t reply but perked up as she pulled one last surprise for the night. An illustrated book.
“Can I read a story to you?” she asked.
He nodded.
“Let’s get you into your pajamas first.” She pointed to the clothes. “Would you like me to help?” With his broken arm, his shirt and pants might be tricky.
He nodded and held himself very still as she worked him out of the travel clothes and into the clean pajamas. The sleeve on the broken side had to be cut open to fit his splinted arm.
He stroked the flannel material covered in dinosaurs. “Soft.”
“It is. And so is that bed I’ll bet. Can I lift you onto the mattress?” She asked rather than grab him.
He nodded and held out his arms. Carefully, she lifted him onto the bed, tucking him under the sheets.
He uttered a sigh. “Nice.”
“It is. Perfect for a bedtime story.” She waggled the book to remind him. “But I’ll have to sit close if you want to see the pictures.”
He scooched away from the edge of the mattress to the middle.
She sat gingerly and put the book in her lap so he could easily see it. She’d stuck to tried and true Dr. Seuss.
By the time she finished reading the silly rhyme, he was cradled against her. When she shut the book, he raised shining eyes to her. “Fun.”
“Would you like me to read it again?”
He nodded and halfway through the third repeat, he tilted his head to say, “Stefan.”
She immediately knew what he referred to. Didn’t know where he heard the name. Didn’t ask why he chose it. She simply said, “What a fine name for a strong boy.” Her new son.
The following day Stefan met Dominick, a child too wise for his years, who took one look at the broken boy and said, “My brother.”
As for Pamela, she hugged him and offered a sloppy kiss that baffled poor Stefan even as he smiled.
Her family had grown. And would continue to grow because of that damned Mr. X.
1
Sometimes having a big family was annoying.
Like now.
“I don’t care if Raymond is my brother and some kind of genius, in this he’s being an idiot,” Stefan grumbled.
“Be nice,” Nanette “Nana” Hubbard, aka Mom, admonished.
“I will not be nice. Do you know what that fuckwad asked me to do?” It was a measure of Stefan’s agitation that he swore in front of his mom. However, this time, his brother Raymond had gone too far. Before she could reply, he told her. “He wants me to drug myself on catnip and change into my tiger.” Because the herb acted as some kind of trigger that turned him from man to beast.
Mom made excuses for Raymond. “He’s simply trying to help you and the others figure out what’s happening with your bodies.”
The reminder pressed Stefan’s lips tight. He’d had more than eighteen years to understand he was different. To struggle against the allure of the drug that unleashed his more feral side. “I have no interest in being his guinea pig.”
“That’s guinea tiger,” Raymond drawled, coming out of the basement. More like fucking cave.
“And you must be a vampire cat because you never see daylight.” Stefan taunted with the truth. His brother rarely left the house.
“You know my skin is delicate.”
“Pussy,” Stefan taunted.
“I wouldn’t talk Mr. Won’t-Give-Any-Blood.”
“Keep your needles away from me!” Stefan warned.
“It’s just a little prick. You’ll barely feel it. I don’t need much. And trust me, I wouldn’t even be asking if the hair samples gave me what I needed.”
That brought a frown to Stefan’s face. “What hair samples? I never gave you any.”
“Technically, no, and honestly, hair trimmings aren’t exactly the greatest.”
“You gave him my hair?” He glared at his mother.
“Not exactly,” she said with a shrug.
“Don’t blame her. If it’s on the floor, it’s fair game.” Raymond’s turn to cajole.
“See if I come back,” Stefan grumbled.
“You’ll be back,” his mom predicted. “Because my haircuts are free and come with strawberry rhubarb pie.”
He did love Mom’s pies. “Fine. But no more letting anyone steal my hair. I’ll sweep it up and set it on fire myself if I have to.” Anything to annoy his younger brother.
“You can keep your nasty hair. Like I said, it’s been useless. I need blood. Preferably from both of your shapes. Speaking of which, when are you going to show it to us?”
“Never.” While Stefan had admitted to his secret once he realized Dominick and Tyson had morphed into cats by accident, he’d refused to actually show anyone.
“It would really help with my research.”
“If you’re so curious, maybe you should be the one chewing down some catnip leaves,” Stefan drawled. Because hell yeah, eat enough or smoke enough of the shit, and certain Hubbard family members turned feline. Dominick, Stefan, and Tyson so far. His sister Maeve tried it, but her ursine ass didn’t react one bit. Either she remained defective—according to the company who made them—or being a bear, she had a different trigger.
“I can hardly document what’s happening if I’m four-legged, you moron.”
A good point, but Stefan still didn’t agree. “Why aren’t you bugging Dominick about this?”
“No need to bug, because he’s been cooperating.”
Mom jumped in. “My good boy has been doing all kinds of tests for Raymond. Where do you think all those cookies I made went?”