Conrad was working out in the gym. Honestly, it couldn’t have been better if I’d planned it myself.

Since Kappa hated the cold, he decided to stay in the kitchen with Igor. Jacky followed me and Mr. Gladwyn out to the old carriage house. We didn’t have much use for horses or coaches, so it had been redesigned as a combination garage and gym. The household’s three cars took up one half. The other half was filled with all the equipment two supernaturally strong people would need to get a real workout.

Those two people being Darius Vasil and Conrad Bauer. Not me. Ha! Oh, boy. Not me.

I’d learned a new level of humility after watching Conrad do his solo work out (he had to do them on his own because the idea that he’d actually get a workout while training with me was laughable). If there’s one thing guaranteed to make you feel insignificant, it’s feeling the reinforced beams of the room around you shudder because a lycanthrope is whaling on the three-hundred-pound mixed-martial-arts bag that’s hanging from them.

The beams were shuddering that morning. I could hear them as we approached.

So could Mayor Gladwyn. He glanced at me once or twice, a slight frown hiding in the corners of his mouth, but when he saw my fearless stride, he must have decided there was nothing to worry about.

Conrad had propped open the gym’s small back door to get some cool air. I waltzed in with Gladwyn only a step behind me. He stopped dead when he laid eyes on the wolfman.

Conrad was six foot, nine inches tall, not counting his triangle ears. He was barefoot, in his basketball shorts, and since he was pushing himself, he’d stripped down to a white tank top. His exposed arms were like a collection of fur-covered boulders. Fortunately, he had the ridiculously broad chest needed to support those bad boys. Below the loose-fitting shorts, you could see his calves—another collection of boulders. Every bit of him was well proportioned, and that proportion was “gigantic.”

He did a quick three-strike combo—one! two!—and ended it with an uppercut that made two of the chains go slack when the bag jumped in the air.

Beside me, Gladwyn took a step back. It must have been the noise.

The wolfman paused and turned to us. His eyes went to Gladwyn first.

The mayor’s foot inched back again.

I grinned and called out, “Hey, Conrad!”

His eyes slid from Gladwyn to me. There was a look in Conrad’s pale-yellow eyes that told me he knew I was up to something. Without breaking that you’re-being-a-butthead-right-now-aren’t-you gaze, he reached out and grabbed the bag to stop it from swaying.

“Mera,” he said by way of greeting.

“I want you to meet someone,” I said.

Conrad’s muzzle dipped in a slow nod. “Give me a second.”

He walked over to the bench against the wall, grabbed his T-shirt, and put it on. The light of my grin increased by a couple of watts.

Conrad didn’t like having his arms and chest uncovered when there were people around. Something about modesty. I’d given up trying to understand it.

What Conrad didn’t realize was that there were some states of dress that were less modest than if he’d been standing around in nothing but his fur coat, and him wearing a T-shirt was one of them. Since he usually wore his T-shirts underneath a plain flannel shirt, he didn’t like them to be loose around the chest and waist, but that meant they were always borderline too tight for his biceps. The way the material strained to hide his muscles only drew attention to how big they were.

When Conrad walked over to us, he stayed a few inches further away than a human would have. He was being considerate of the newcomer who, unless I missed my guess, stank of gut-liquidizing terror.

“Conrad,” I motioned to the man beside me, “this is Mayor Benjamin Gladwyn.” I lowered my hand. “Mr. Gladwyn, this is Conrad Bauer. The man I was telling you about.”

I counted two full seconds before Gladwyn managed to jerk his head down in a nod. Conrad nodded back to him. Neither offered to shake. Gladwyn probably didn’t want us to see how bad he was trembling, and Conrad was self-conscious about his claws.

I went on, “Gladwyn is having some trouble with his colony of bog-monsters and came to ask Kappa for help. I offered to go as a handler, but he also wanted someone dependable, and I instantly thought of you. Wha’da’ya say? Would you be willing to come with us?”

Conrad looked at Jacky.

“Mr. Gladwyn already has to make arrangements for Kappa,” Big Jacky said. “Adding your name to the paperwork wouldn’t be difficult.”

Conrad turned his attention to the mayor. “What kind of trouble are you having, Mr. Gladwyn?”

I thought the “Mr. Gladwyn” was a nice touch. Conrad used manners around humans the same way that humans use baby noises around nervous dogs—to put the poor things at ease.

When Gladwyn spoke, it sounded like the same marionette master that had moved his head was jerking the words out of his mouth, one at a time. “I don’t want you to misunderstand…Mr. Bauer—”

It was amazing how much respect a man could learn in so little time.

Gladwyn finished with, “—you don’t have to come.”

“But you said you’d welcome the help!” I protested.

The cords on the mayor’s neck stood out for a moment, but he had to ungrit his teeth to answer. “We could use the help, but I’m not sure if there’d be anything for Mr. Bauer to do.”

“I told you, he can help me look after Kappa, and he’ll protect us if anything happens.”

“Is it going to be dangerous?” Conrad asked.

I’m sure Conrad didn’t mean to sound menacing, but he spoke up so fast that his voice came out louder than normal, and there was more roughness around the edges of the words. Someone unfamiliar with the wolfman could mistake it for snarling.

“No!” Gladwyn rushed to assure him. Then he scowled. “It shouldn’t be, anyway, but I can’t make any promises. I’ve lived in that town most of my life, and we’ve never had this kind of trouble from the lurkers before.”

Conrad threw a glance my way.

“He calls the bog-monsters ‘lurkers,’” I explained.

“At this point, there’s no telling what those animals might do,” Gladwyn grumbled.

Conrad’s ears tilted back toward his head. I knew that bit of ear-language. Conrad wasn’t angry, but he was irritated.

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Good.

“If you’re not sure if it’ll be dangerous, it’d be wise to play it safe,” Conrad said. “I’ll go.”

No one had time to do or say anything—I don’t think a watch would’ve had time to tick—before Gladwyn said, “But you can’t go into town.”

Conrad’s head tilted as he regarded the mayor. His furry brows were low over his eyes.

A man like Benjamin Gladwyn wasn’t likely to stammer, but his jaw moved up and down twice before he could get the words out: “My town—they’re not all initiates. If they saw you—”

Jacky interrupted, “Mr. Bauer is well aware of the rules regarding who is and isn’t supposed to see him, but the preserve is Torr property. As long as he has permission, he has the right to be there.”

“What if someone sees him?”

“No one should be allowed in that preserve unless they’re initiates. The Torr has set up precautions.”

Gladwyn’s hand jumped up by his face. “I know that.” He curled the hand into a fist. “But you have to understand, that’s almost twenty-five miles of border, and not all of it is fenced. I can’t guarantee that some young punk from town won’t decide to ignore all those no-trespassing signs.” His hand opened again. He flicked it out as a shrug, then let it fall to his side.

“Then the fault would lie with them,” Jacky said. “Not Conrad.”

“Where’s he going to stay, huh?”

“That’s a reasonable question, Mr. Gladwyn.”

The edge of the mayor’s mouth twitched up.

Jacky went on, “You’ll need to provide somewhere suitable for all three of them. If Emerra is going, then I have no doubt that Kappa will insist on staying with her. Wherever you choose to house them, the people there will have to be associated with the Torr to some degree.”

This time, the edges of Gladwyn’s mouth pulled down as slow as the drip of cold syrup. “That might be hard to do.”

“It’ll have to be done whether Conrad goes or not.”

“Are you married?” I asked.

Gladwyn did a double-take in my direction “No. Why?”

I glopped on a bucketful of naive and youthful cheer. “Maybe we could stay with you!”

The man was tough. His eyes edged toward Conrad, but it wasn’t enough movement for me to call it a glance. It was the tension that could have been a glance if he’d had less self-control.

He said, “I have a place in mind that’s closer to the preserve.”

“Oh!” I spread my hands out wide, then brought them together, intertwining my fingers in front of my chest. “That sounds great. When do we leave?”

“Miss Cole, I’m not sure—”

“Mr. Gladwyn,” Jacky said.

There was a new sound in his voice, something deeper than the usual cave-like echoes, something that plumbed the coldest parts of the universe. All of us stopped. The only movement was the fine hairs on my arms rising.

Jacky said, “You came to us seeking help, and now you have not one but three treasured members of my personal household that have made themselves available to you. I don’t understand why you’re objecting. Yes, it will take work. Yes, there will have to be arrangements, but when a matter is important, it calls for due effort. Do you want our help or not?”

When the lingering effect of Jacky’s speech faded, Gladwyn looked down and took a deep breath.

He raised his head and said, “I want it.” He turned toward me and Conrad, but his eyes never rose high enough to meet ours. “And I’ll thank you for it.”

Surprised by his token of generosity, all I could do was nod.

“Come.” Jacky raised his hand and rolled the bones that made up his index finger back toward him, beckoning Gladwyn. “We should get started on the arrangements.”

The mayor followed Jacky out of the gym. I stayed behind. Even if someone had offered me a million dollars, you wouldn’t catch me following death when he beckoned like that. And I liked Big Jacky.

Conrad and I stood together, watching the two figures disappear around the edge of the doorway.

“Emerra,” Conrad said, “what did that guy do to make you angry?”

I wasn’t surprised that he’d figured it out. Conrad knew me well enough, he probably would have picked up on it even if he didn’t have a nose so keen he could smell the difference between sadness and frustration.

I hooked my thumbs in the back pockets of my jeans. “He kept calling Kappa a ‘thing.’”

Conrad’s ears tilted further, but then he shook his head, and one side of his lips lifted in a smirk. He turned and walked over to the shelf with the portable speakers. He always left his phone there, even when he wasn’t listening to music.

“Do you really think Kappa would mind?” he called over his shoulder.

“Does it matter? I mind. Kappa is a sentient being! That makes him people, and you don’t get to go around talking like people aren’t people just because you’re smarter than they are!”

“If Kappa doesn’t care, is it worth getting angry about?”

“You didn’t like how he talked about Kappa either.”

Conrad glanced at his phone before tucking it into his pocket. He looked up at me. “Did your magic eyes tell you that?”

“Your ears did.” I folded my arms. “They’re much more reliable.”

Conrad walked over, stopping only when he was so close that I had to crane my head back to continue giving him the look I had crafted for his benefit. He smiled because he thinks it’s amusing to watch my attempts to exude cockiness when I’m staring straight up.

“Only as reliable as your interpretation,” he said.

“Same with my eyes. So? Were you annoyed?”

Conrad looked away. I heard a sigh escape his long nose. “A bit.”

He went toward the door.

I pointed at his massive back. “Ha!” Then I ran after him.

“It was a reflex,” Conrad said. “Your ears twitch. You get over it. It’s not a big deal. There are worse ways to talk about people. It’s not worth getting offended.”

I stopped in the middle of the doorway. The part of my brain that had been telling my feet to move had been commandeered to help figure out why Conrad’s matter-of-fact tone bothered me so much.

There were worse ways to talk about people—but not many. It sounded like Conrad knew all of them, and at some point in his life, he’d had to decide if it was worth getting offended about. He’d made the mature and intelligent decision.

I’d never had to make that choice, and I saw no compelling reason to start down the road of maturity.

Conrad was waiting for me to step through the door so he could shut it behind us. I looked up at his face and said, “I would’ve been mad at them too.”

His brows pulled together, creating fluffy little ripples. “What?”

“The ones that were mean to you,” I explained, “I would’ve been mad at them too.”

He let out one of his quiet laughs that reminded me of a dog chuff. “I know you would have.” He put his hand on my shoulder, scooted me into the open, shut the door, then turned to me. “It smells like you’re mad now.”

“Maybe I am!”

“And you don’t think getting mad about a bunch of imagined insults is an overreaction?” Conrad asked.

“No, I don’t. I’ve made them out to be complete jerks in my head. They deserve all my wrath.”

“Are you going to imagine them ruing the day you decided to make up their crimes?”

“You’re making fun of me.”

“No, no,” he assured me. “I think it’s a good idea. Then we can move on to manufactured forgiveness and hypothetical healing.”

“Har, har.”

Together, we walked toward the mansion.

“Mera,” Conrad said, “I respect you sticking up for Kappa, but the next time you want to use me like that, do you think you could give me some warning?”

I started to say “I didn’t—” but a frigid horror coated my stomach and raced up my throat, freezing the words to my vocal cords.

I had used him. When I wanted to make Gladwyn uncomfortable, I didn’t think once—let alone twice—about dragging him out to meet Conrad despite the fact I knew how shy Conrad was.

I put a hand to my forehead, shielding my eyes from the sunlight I was unworthy to stand under.

Conrad put his arm around my shoulders and pulled me to his side. He was roughhousing—although, this time, it was more gentle than normal. (Gentlehousing?) I suspected that he did it to jar me out of whatever smelly emotional state I was in.

“Nope,” he said. “Come on, zombie-girl. What happened to all that righteous indignation?”

“But I used you!” I wailed.

“Was it for a worthy cause?”

“I don’t want to be that person!”

Conrad stopped and turned to me. “You’re really scared.”

I huffed several times—each time sure that, with this breath, words would come spilling out so I could learn what the heck I was thinking. No words came. The only thing that spilled out of me was my rising panic.

Conrad put his hands on my shoulders. “Hey, hey,” he shooshed me. “Calm down. It’s okay.” He squeezed my shoulders, giving me a grounding sense of pressure. “It’s okay, I promise.”

After a few deep breaths, the pressure in my chest eased. I sniffed and rubbed my nose. I couldn’t bring myself to look my friend in the eyes, but I tried. “Sorry. You shouldn’t have had to smell that.”

Conrad let out an exasperated grunt. “Would you stop apologizing for having feelings? You make it sound like you farted.”

My shoulders shook when I giggled.

Conrad let me go. “Why were you so scared?”

“I don’t know,” I mumbled. “It must be old issues.” I cleared my throat so I could talk louder. “I’m sorry I used you. Please, forgive me.”

He nudged my arm to get me walking again. “Don’t worry about it. I would’ve had to meet the guy sooner or later.”

Thump. Another arrow of guilt slammed into my chest. Bullseye.

“Conrad, Gladwyn was telling the truth,” I said. “You don’t have to come. I only brought up your name because he kept harping on about how great humans were.”

“Uh-huh. And if I’m not there, who’s supposed to keep you out of trouble? Kappa?”

My cheeks flushed a nice bright shade of pink. “What is with the people in this mansion? I’m fine on my own, you know. I’m a big girl! I eat my vegetables and everything!”

“Because Igor makes you.”

“I’d eat them even if he didn’t make me!”

“All right! All right!” Conrad smiled at me from his tremendous height and put his hand on top of my bald head. “You’re a big girl. I don’t know why I forgot that.”

I tried to shove him off by pushing on his side. It didn’t work.