She’d told him to meet her at the party. If he went, would she give him answers? Could he afford to stubbornly stay away and not find out more?
Only one thing to do when faced with a tough decision. Talk it out with the one person he trusted—the person he should have told his secret sooner.
Stefan ended up on a stool at his mom’s kitchen island, hugging a mug of her special tea, creamy and thick with a hint of sugary spice. Add in the salted and candied walnuts, plus the freshly sliced cured meat, and he slowly calmed. Chewing could do that for a person.
At this point in the snack, he’d already told his mom about the meeting with Nimway. But that wasn’t the thing she really wanted to know about.
“When are you going to talk to me about your tiger?”
He choked on his mouthful of tea. He grabbed a napkin and managed a husky, “How’s never?”
“Why?”
“Because it’s the reason I struggled and hit the drugs hard.” He offered her a wan smile. “Pretty sure neither of us wants to relive those years.”
“Even during that rough patch, you were still a good boy.” She reached out and grabbed his hand.
“I was an addict with attitude.” He’d lashed out at his family, thinking himself too different to be worthy of their love. Afraid at the same time he might inadvertently hurt them.
“You were a huge ass, but you seem to forget that the only person you ever hurt was yourself.”
The ancient monks flagellated with reeds and leather strips, whatever they could find. Stefan emotionally shredded himself with brutal fierceness. “I was out of control.”
“But it wasn’t just the drugs,” she surmised. “It was also because you found out about your other side.”
He fidgeted. “Not exactly. I didn’t know at first what was happening to me. The blackouts made sure of that.”
“When did it start?”
“I was sixteen and sleeping over at Billy’s. He had a cat.” Who’d dropped a catnip toy by his head.
The next morning, his friends mocked him when they discovered him sprawled naked with it in his mouth. Even as he fled their mockery, he craved the catnip. That same day, he ended up in the pet store for more of the green powdery stuff. And the snowball down the hill began.
“Did you morph in front of Billy?” Mom exclaimed.
“Not exactly. There wasn’t enough for a full shift. Just enough to get a high and be stupid.”
A cheap high, which meant when he went from just sniffing to smoking it, he could do a shit-ton at once. It led to blackouts and waking up naked. Sometimes with blood and hair in his mouth, the remains of whatever animal he’d killed sometimes tucked close by.
For a while, he assumed he must be a psychopath. Back then, cell phone videos were a new thing, so he had to borrow a camera to record what happened. He set it to go off at motion then got high in the woods. He smoked it and even chewed down some of it. Crunchy. Tasty.
He actually woke up in the same place he’d gotten wasted, not wearing any clothes, the remains of a fish stinking up his bed of moss. And when he later replayed the camera video, he’d almost keeled over.
A tiger. He turned into a fucking tiger!
Stefan didn’t even realize he’d told his story until Mom said, “You idiot. Why didn’t you talk to me?”
He glanced at her. “Because I thought there was something wrong with me. Worried I was dangerous. I was. Am,” he corrected himself.
“Have you killed anyone?”
“Not that I know of.” He’d watched the news for reports of wild animal attacks.
“Then not sure what the problem is.”
He blinked at his mom. “The problem is I turn into a striped menace with no thought other than hunting.”
“Hunting animals. It’s not like you’re a vegan.”
“Not the same, Mom.”
“Bow and arrow, gun, or teeth. All weapons. Yours are just more portable now.”
He just about choked as she justified him being a furry killing machine. “I hope you haven’t said that to Tyson.”
She snorted. “And encourage him? No. But, he does need someone who’s dealt with this particular problem to guide him. I’ll bet Dominick wouldn’t mind a word either.”
His brothers had both come to him for advice. He’d told them to stay away from catnip. “I’m not sure my failures can be of any help.”
“Says the man who kicked the habit. How many years now?”
“Coming up on a decade.” But it came with a price. He was always tense, snarly if people got in his way. Exercise and fucking were the only things that gave him relief. And the latter had been losing its appeal. He could hardly sleep for more than an hour or two anymore, and women didn’t like it when you left them in the middle of the night.
A tray of cookies slid out of the oven. Coconut macaroon and almond chunk. Mom would now drizzle chocolate on top, which would harden, making it the perfect treat.
He waited patiently for it. Always had, even as a little boy. Dominick, his older brother, had tried to teach him to steal one when Mom turned her back, but Stefan relied on patience. It always earned him a treat, although Mom claimed it was his eyes that made her weak.
Mom no sooner finished pouring chocolate than his sister Maeve walked into the kitchen and grabbed one. Didn’t even ask. Her short pixie cut was a vivid pink with streaks of pure white. She wore it well ,along with some silver studs in her ears, nose, and eyebrow.
“Aren’t you brave?” Stefan taunted. Dominick got his hand smacked every time he tried the same.
“Don’t need bravery because I’m Mom’s favorite,” Maeve crooned. His younger sister still lived at home.
“You wish,” he huffed.
“I have no favorites, and Maeve gets a cookie because she’s too skinny. She needs to eat more,” Nana declared.
Maeve snorted. “For the last time, I am not underweight. Stefan, on the other hand, looks like he’s been hitting the lasagna hard.”
“I am not fat!”
“If you say so. Shirt must have shrunk in the wash.”
He might have gained a few pounds, but an extra hour in the gym would fix that. “And to think I once beat up that nice ice cream man because he called you a name.” Stefan might have been more patient than Dominick when it came to certain things, but he didn’t tolerate any bullying of his siblings.
“Ha, you didn’t do that for me. As I recall, after you had that talk with him”—she flipped some fingers to air quote—“you got free Dilly Bars until he changed jobs.”
He smiled. “I do love Dilly Bars.”
“And my cooking.” His mom beamed, handing him a plate with four cookies, making him wonder, how much was a normal serving?
He glanced down. “Maybe I should cut down on my carbs.”
“Nonsense,” scoffed his mother.
Maeve had different advice. “When you get changed into your nice clothes, don’t tuck your shirt in; it will be less noticeable.”
“Why am I getting changed?” He played dumb.
“You know the barbecue is tomorrow night.”
“And? I don’t recall it saying I had to dress up.”