could test my bathroom window theory and make sure the roof was safe to climb on in the first place. Maybe her French doors were open.
A shadow appeared in my peripheral vision. Aspen was shaking his head. “Man,” he said, laughing. “You have got to be the stupidest human I’ve ever met.”
“Thank you.” I grimaced. How many more reminders did I need?
He leaned against the wall, turning serious as he whispered, “You’re also the gutsiest. Nobody messes with Rex—we just do what we’re told.” He threw a glance around the hall. “Come on. When Ilume kicks someone out, she kicks them out. You can stay in my room tonight.”
I sat up. “Really?”
“Yeah, but let’s go before the demon sees you.” He flicked a finger, starting back toward the staircase. “Or anyone else for that matter.”
Chapter Fifteen
A spen’s room was on the first floor at the very end of the hall. At the opposite end, a grand ballroom was hidden away. Well, it had been a ballroom. Now it was the headquarters for a werewolf slumber party. Howls and barks resonated off the faded wallpaper, mirrors reflecting pack members as they lounged on dog beds like mine.
“Don’t worry about them,” Aspen said, opening his door. “Rex is the only person you really have to worry about . . . and maybe Althea. The others won’t harm you unless Ilume orders it.”
“I guess that’s good to know.” Here I’d thought they’d rip my limbs off should Ilume take even a step away. I wondered what would happen now with her cold-shouldering me.
Aspen’s room was small and square, only a bed and dresser occupied the space. Claw marks marked the wood of the closet doors, the edges jagged, frayed—someone’s scratching posts.
“Here.” Aspen tossed me a pillow. “There’s an extra blanket in the closet.”
“Thanks, man.” Reluctantly, I approached the scratching posts. Below the hanging shirts and shorts, a heavy, fleecy blanket lay folded on the floor.
“Aspen,” I asked him. “Why are you being—uh—nice to me?”
I wasn’t sure nice was the right word. Nice is your friends buying you lunch, not a werewolf that keeps taking pity on you.
Aspen’s features tightened. He sat down on the edge of his mattress, staring at the carpet. “Because,” he answered. “I, um . . . I used to be one of you.”
I about dropped my pillow. “What do you mean?”
“I used to be human.”
That’s what I thought he meant. It had to be a joke. A human can’t become an Otherworlder! That’s more Hollywood crap: one bite from a nightling or a werewolf or even certain faeries, and you were “infected,” doomed to become like them.
It didn’t work that way. You don’t turn into a flea when one bites you, right? Same with an Otherworlder situation: you’re either born human or you’re born Otherworlder. The only exceptions were ghosts, which the government is still arguing about giving them their own category.
In Theories class, I read about human–Otherworlder hybrids, which are extremely uncommon. The offspring of a human and Otherworlder mating have such unstable genes that the children rarely live past age five.
I’d never heard of any case where a human becomes a werewolf.
“You’ve got to be joking,” I finally said. “That’s like saying a rabbit laid a chicken’s egg. It’s impossible for a human to become an Otherworlder. We’re two entirely different races!”
Aspen’s mouth tilted up at the corners. “Is that what Hunters High taught you?”
He knew about Hunters High?
“Don’t look so surprised.” He laid back, hands behind his head. “It’s near where Ilume went. I looked it up. The Finders are the only ones who know about us. If you followed Ilume—which it sounds like you did, from what I’ve heard—someone had clearly taught you the basics.”
I dropped my pillow on the floor and spread out the blanket while thinking up a response. No use in lying here; it might just lose me the only
A shadow appeared in my peripheral vision. Aspen was shaking his head. “Man,” he said, laughing. “You have got to be the stupidest human I’ve ever met.”
“Thank you.” I grimaced. How many more reminders did I need?
He leaned against the wall, turning serious as he whispered, “You’re also the gutsiest. Nobody messes with Rex—we just do what we’re told.” He threw a glance around the hall. “Come on. When Ilume kicks someone out, she kicks them out. You can stay in my room tonight.”
I sat up. “Really?”
“Yeah, but let’s go before the demon sees you.” He flicked a finger, starting back toward the staircase. “Or anyone else for that matter.”
Chapter Fifteen
A spen’s room was on the first floor at the very end of the hall. At the opposite end, a grand ballroom was hidden away. Well, it had been a ballroom. Now it was the headquarters for a werewolf slumber party. Howls and barks resonated off the faded wallpaper, mirrors reflecting pack members as they lounged on dog beds like mine.
“Don’t worry about them,” Aspen said, opening his door. “Rex is the only person you really have to worry about . . . and maybe Althea. The others won’t harm you unless Ilume orders it.”
“I guess that’s good to know.” Here I’d thought they’d rip my limbs off should Ilume take even a step away. I wondered what would happen now with her cold-shouldering me.
Aspen’s room was small and square, only a bed and dresser occupied the space. Claw marks marked the wood of the closet doors, the edges jagged, frayed—someone’s scratching posts.
“Here.” Aspen tossed me a pillow. “There’s an extra blanket in the closet.”
“Thanks, man.” Reluctantly, I approached the scratching posts. Below the hanging shirts and shorts, a heavy, fleecy blanket lay folded on the floor.
“Aspen,” I asked him. “Why are you being—uh—nice to me?”
I wasn’t sure nice was the right word. Nice is your friends buying you lunch, not a werewolf that keeps taking pity on you.
Aspen’s features tightened. He sat down on the edge of his mattress, staring at the carpet. “Because,” he answered. “I, um . . . I used to be one of you.”
I about dropped my pillow. “What do you mean?”
“I used to be human.”
That’s what I thought he meant. It had to be a joke. A human can’t become an Otherworlder! That’s more Hollywood crap: one bite from a nightling or a werewolf or even certain faeries, and you were “infected,” doomed to become like them.
It didn’t work that way. You don’t turn into a flea when one bites you, right? Same with an Otherworlder situation: you’re either born human or you’re born Otherworlder. The only exceptions were ghosts, which the government is still arguing about giving them their own category.
In Theories class, I read about human–Otherworlder hybrids, which are extremely uncommon. The offspring of a human and Otherworlder mating have such unstable genes that the children rarely live past age five.
I’d never heard of any case where a human becomes a werewolf.
“You’ve got to be joking,” I finally said. “That’s like saying a rabbit laid a chicken’s egg. It’s impossible for a human to become an Otherworlder. We’re two entirely different races!”
Aspen’s mouth tilted up at the corners. “Is that what Hunters High taught you?”
He knew about Hunters High?
“Don’t look so surprised.” He laid back, hands behind his head. “It’s near where Ilume went. I looked it up. The Finders are the only ones who know about us. If you followed Ilume—which it sounds like you did, from what I’ve heard—someone had clearly taught you the basics.”
I dropped my pillow on the floor and spread out the blanket while thinking up a response. No use in lying here; it might just lose me the only
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