But they also weren't moving out of my way. My pulse skyrocketed. I couldn't barrel through them. Some of them were babies, and while I might steal from horny men, I did not push over babies.
Mr. Boots leaped onto my shoulders. I never had any doubt as to what the sharp pressure was that suddenly clung around my neck like a scarf. He purred and rubbed his head against mine before sitting half on my cheek.
"This is Mr. Boots," I said, my moving mouth disturbing Mr. Boots with every syllable. Now, everyone was looking at Mr. Boots, noticing his absolute feline perfection no doubt, and that was marginally better than a few moments before. Better enough that I could see the features of the people standing around me, instead of just a vague blurry outline. I saw Wyatt clearly, anyway. He was only a foot away with his hands outstretched, his mouth parted only slightly.
"Kansas, you need to eat."
What a weird thing to say after what I'd said. "I'm sorry I passed out," I whispered, while inside my mind I was hearing whispers. Mostly ones that said my uncle was right, that I turned everything I touched into refuse.
"You don't have to be sorry," Wyatt said. "I don't want you to feel sorry. I want you to eat something." He lifted his hand, and a doughnut appeared inside it. "Eat." He tore off a chunk and offered it to me like an olive branch from a dove's beak. I opened my beak and hummed around the sugary, buttery dough. I took another bite, and then another. I took a sip of water. A breath.
I sighed.
And when I opened my eyes, the room looked brighter. The voices stopped whispering, and every person in the room was clear as crystal. But Wyatt wasn't done feeding me. I wanted more doughnut, but what I got was a cup of something orange and strangely healthy-smelling. I took a sip of the blended mixture, and my face twisted to express my disgust.
"I'd like to say it starts tasting better at some point, but it doesn't," Phineas said quietly.
Wyatt had brought us back to the bed, me and Mr. Boots, who hopped off my shoulders and promptly curled in Nana's lap.
Nana. The woman who looked perfectly normal and was probably extremely offended by how I'd freaked out just then. But if she was angry with me, she didn't look it. She smiled, the same smile she had when she'd walked in, but this time, I saw the warmth there and felt drawn to it, not repelled.
"Hello Kansas, I'm Nana." She pet Mr. Boots on the head, scratching him in that spot behind his ear that normally earned me a swipe of his claws. "I scared you when I came in." It wasn't a question; she stated it as fact.
I swallowed and licked my lips. "Yes, you did, but not really you. I have this thing, and if I do it too much, it messes with me, and if I do it too little, that messes with me too. I've got to stay even. But remembering to stay even sometimes makes me forget to do other things." The only thing I ever remembered to do without fail was feed Mr. Boots. He let me know when I was even close to being in danger of forgetting.
Nana puckered her lips and bobbed her chin. "And when you do your thing too much, eating is what you need to bring you back to how you like to feel?"
I appreciated how she didn't use the word normal. But the way I liked to feel was what I considered my normal. I wanted it to be, anyway. "Yes. Eating helps. Actually, eating helps with not doing it a lot too. I don't kill people though," I said, a bit more firmly than I'd planned. I'd meant to transition smoothly into that information, but it came out more like a sledgehammer.
Everyone who had been pretending not to be listening to our conversation forgot to keep pretending until I made eye contact.
These people were good people. I didn't need to ask them any questions to decide that. They cared a lot about each other, but for some reason, half of them wanted it to seem like they didn't most of the time. "I do knock people out," I said when no one said anything. "Like, for a living. I drain enough energy to make them sleep. It was how I was able to steal from Wyatt and how I've stolen from every other man before him. I have these questions. Does anyone depend on you? Do you have any pets? And do you have any enemies? Normally, from those questions, I can tell. You'd be surprised how many men who claim they have no enemies and who own dogs have families who depend on them, yet they claim they live like a bachelor. But I—" Wyatt slid more doughnut in my mouth, and I was so glad to have that flavor back and not that weird smoothie that I automatically began to chew mid-word. I swallowed and reached for the water, turning my face away when Wyatt tried to give me more. I was full. And talking! Rude!
I crossed my legs, bouncing my right foot at the ankle.
"That's what you did to Alpha Walker?" Nana asked.
I looked to Wyatt, who nodded.
"Yes." I thought the name sounded familiar, anyway.
"Are there any long-term effects from being drained?"
I was beginning to suspect these questions were not of the usual getting to know you fare. "None. The only effects really are that the person will feel tired and then go to sleep. After a person is asleep, their energy is not consumable. Just ask Wyatt, I've been draining him for days. And he tastes good. That's not sexual innuendo. I think now the reason is because he is a shifter."
They all looked like they were imagining all the reasons why they should be afraid of that.
I understood how what I did sounded scary. Like I was a vampire or… parasite. But they weren't running yet. "Am I clear? Did I pass?" I asked. I'd been attempting a joke, but no one laughed. Mr. Boots did cough up a hairball in the middle of the silence, but it sounded like he did it mostly out of pity.
"You aren't being tested, Kansas," Wyatt said.
"I did need to have my questions answered before I could come to my decision, and now I have," Nana said. "I'll be informing Alpha Walker and the elders that I will be blocking my late husband's auxiliary fund from the pack."
Several of the guys made sounds of approval at that, though I didn't understand quite what it all meant. Wyatt whistled. "And then they'll leave us the fu—the fudge alone?" he asked.
Nana's eyes tilted in the corners. "No." She shook her head sadly. "That is no longer an option, sadly. Delia had already filed the formal complaint with the council, providing proof that you all qualify for pack status. Even if they make no other complaints, an agent will eventually come out to investigate. They will discover the blessed children. This will not go away."
I hoped my actions hadn't made anything worse, though I was pretty sure I wasn't the only one to blame if they had.
"However, they can file a report saying they are granting you all an amount of time to acquaint yourselves with the pack. During that time period, we can be relatively sure the council won't send anyone."
All of the Walker cousins cursed. I thought Phineas might have too, but what he said also sounded a little like a magic spell, so I wasn't sure.
"We can't rely on those people doing anything that will help us. Sorry, Nana," Wyatt said.
"I agree," one of the cousins said. I'd forgotten his name but by process of elimination decided he must be Aver. "We should be on an enhanced precaution status."
Instead of laughing or asking what the heck that meant, most of them nodded their agreement. At least Bran Jr. looked as confused as I did.