Feral Nights by Cynthia Leitich Smith Read Free Book Online

says, ignoring us. “Upstairs?”
    Beyond shifter earshot, he means. They’ll probably turn on a faucet and a fan for extra cover. Before leaving, Nora pours Yoshi some cocoa. When he doesn’t accept it right away, she simply sets the mug on the counter and leads the cop out of the room.
    On his way out, Zaleski points at Yoshi. “You stay put.”
    Pushing up to perch on the counter, I can’t resist studying Yoshi’s smattering of freckles and full lips. Throw in a Cat’s grace and the animal magnetism that comes standard with werepredators, and he’s the romantic equivalent of a flashing red light.
    Yoshi is one of those guys. Like my post–eighth-grade summer fling from church camp — Enrique Soto of JV basketball fame. Neither of us noticed the mosquito army ravaging our skin as we cuddled in a docked canoe one night after lights-out.
    The next day when he offered me his entire bottle of calamine lotion, I thought that was a sign of true devotion, and it was — for exactly six days and nights of “faith, fellowship, and Christian fun.” Then he acted like we were total strangers once the bus crossed back into Austin city limits. It was like we never happened. He was done.
    It was just a fling, but I still felt burned and, worse, embarrassed. Thing is, Enrique isn’t even my type (I couldn’t care less about the respective historical significance of Michael Jordan versus Shaquille O’Neal), but I got sucked in anyway. The abs, the hair, and, to be honest, the fact that someone wanted me, at least for a while. Later, the whole experience only made me appreciate Travis more.
    Travis, who was killed by Yoshi’s sister.
    “Zaleski told me that Ruby has been in this house,” the Cat murmurs. “That man she was supposedly dating, Davidson Morris — he lived here.”
    Yoshi’s nostrils flare. He’s trying to pick up some trace of his sister’s scent. Shape-shifters do that a lot, which makes me paranoid about BO and my period.
    “Try outside,” Clyde suggests, nodding toward the kitchen door. “She killed Detective Bartok . . . or maybe it was Matthews . . . in the yard. Their partial remains were found in the bushes in back.”
    “You don’t know my sister,” Yoshi replies. “You have no right to —”
    “She also staked Davidson Morris, who, by the way, was an evil soulless vampire, upstairs on the second floor,” I put in. “Not that anyone’s complaining,” I add in a softer voice. “Good riddance to the bad guy.”
    “The evil soulless vampire that she’d been screwing,” the Possum mutters.
    In a blur, Yoshi crosses the room to grab Clyde. “You don’t know my sister!”
    Oh, hell. Yelling for the grown-ups, I slip down from the counter, draw the biggest carving knife, and point it at Yoshi’s back. “Drop the Possum! Now!”
    The partially shifted Cat has his claws wrapped around Clyde’s neck.
    “Don’t!” I exclaim. “Please —”
    Yoshi tosses Clyde into a bookshelf, knocking off cookbooks, archaeology tomes, and religious texts.
    “For heaven’s sake!” I drop the cutlery and run past the Cat to my friend. “He can barely walk now.”
    As I help him up, Clyde grunts. “I told you he was dangerous.”
    “Then you shouldn’t have said that about his sister!” I scold.
    As Yoshi returns the butcher knife to the block, Nora and Zaleski storm in. The detective doesn’t have his gun drawn, but his fingers hover over the holster.
    “It’s fine,” I announce. “It’s over.” I take a breath. “They were just being boys.”
    After a moment to digest that, the chef announces in her not-to-be-disputed voice that Yoshi will be staying with her until further notice, and Zaleski announces in his I’m-going-to-kick-your-ass voice that we’re not to tell anyone, or else.
    Yoshi breaks the awkward silence that follows by asking me, “What did you mean by ‘vampire’? Everybody knows that vamps are extinct.”
    That is what most people think. The last widely rumored