I saw Honey's eyes widen, when he said that bit about being a monster. From the expression on her face, she thought she was a monster, too.
I frowned at her. I didn't want to have sympathy for Honey-it was so much easier to dislike her. She frowned back.
"Put the gun away," I told Black in the firm voice that sometimes worked on werewolves. I guess it worked on grieving fathers, too, because he slipped the pistol back in his shoulder holster.
"She doesn't need a shrink," I told him. "Every thirteen year old girl wants to kill themselves at some point or other."
I remembered being thirteen. When I was fourteen my foster father had killed himself, and that permanently removed the impulse. I'd never do that to people I cared about.
"I expect getting locked in the basement once a month doesn't help," I continued. "The Marrok told me that there's every reason to expect she'll be able to control her wolf if you find an Alpha to guide her."
He turned away and raised his hands to his face. When he turned back his tears were gone, though his eyes were moist. He took the piece of paper I'd written on, and, only after I handed it to him, the roll of money. "Thank you for your help."
"Wait," I said, glancing at Honey. "Mr. Black, that werewolf who talks to you, has he ever shown you his wolf?"
"No."
"Has he shown your daughter?"
"We only saw him once, the night he brought her back to us. The night of the attack. He left a number where he could be reached."
"So the only wolf you've seen is your daughter, chained and out of control in her cage-and the only wolf she's ever seen is the one who attacked her?"
"That's right."
Honey was, if anything, more beautiful in her wolf form than she was in her human form. I looked at her. Wolves communicate very well without words; she understood what I asked her to do. She also very clearly didn't understand
After a few moments of silent arguing while Black grew puzzled, I finally said, "Honey, as much as I hate to admit it, your wolf is glorious. No one would ever think you were a monster-any more than a Siberian tiger or a golden eagle is a monster."
Her mouth opened and closed, then she glanced at Black. "All right," she said in a curiously shy voice. "Can I borrow your bathroom?"
"It will take her a little time," I told Black when she was gone. "Fifteen minutes or so-and she might wait a few minutes beyond that. Changing is painful and newly changed werewolves tend to be a little grumpy about it."
"You know an awful lot about werewolves," he said.
"I was raised by them," I told him. I waited a moment or two, but he didn't ask me why. I suppose he was more concerned with other matters right then.
"If I were you," I told him. "I'd bring your daughter here to Adam." Bran thought the girl might make it with a little help-that she wasn't a hopeless case. Adam was very strong-and he had Samuel here, who was good with young wolves. Her chances in Adam's pack were better than they would be anywhere else. "Adam has a big house because pack members and other wolves have the tendency to drop in on him without a moment's notice. Big enough that you and your wife could stay for a while." Adam would honor my invitation. I knew him well enough to know that he wouldn't even resent it. "With Adam around, your daughter wouldn't have to be caged-and I think that she, and the rest of your family, would benefit from being around a pack of wolves for a while. They are dangerous and terrifying, but they can be beautiful, too." Adam would keep his pack from scaring the humans.
"Josef-the werewolf I know-told me that there are benefits to being a werewolf. He said-" Black's voice tightened and he had to stop for a moment. "He said that hunting was the best thing he'd every felt. The kill. The blood."
Stupid werewolf, I thought. Heck of a thing to tell the parent of a thirteen-year-old girl, truthful or not.
"Werewolves heal incredibly fast," I told him. "They are strong, graceful. She'll never grow old. And the pack... I don't know how to explain it to you, I'm not sure that I understand it myself, but a wolf with a good pack is never alone."
I looked him straight in the eye and said, "She can be happy, Mr. Black. Safe and happy, and not a danger to herself or anyone else. It's horrible that she was attacked and a miracle that she survived-I've never heard of a child that young surviving an attack. Being a werewolf is different, but it is not terrible."
I smelled fur and turned to look at the doorway before Honey walked in. She was a small werewolf, about the height of a large German Shepherd though heavier in the body and leg. Her fur was a light fawn color with a darker undercoat and a silvery stripe down her back almost the same color as her crystal gray eyes.
A werewolf's shoulder is articulated more like a tiger or bear than a wolf, giving them lateral motion and the ability to use their impressive claws. With some of the bigger males, the effect can be almost grotesque, but Honey fit together well. When she moved she looked gracile and strong, just not entirely canid.
I smiled at her-she wagged her tail and ducked her head. It took me a moment to realize why she did that. Since Adam had claimed me as his mate, I was higher in the pecking order than she was.
I didn't remember any of the rest of Adam's pack acting submissive to me, though. But then I didn't usually run into Adam's pack in wolf form-and in human form... well, theoretically their behavior should be the same. But some things were harder on a human mind than a wolf's. I imagine they all had a hard time being submissive to a coyote, especially because they all knew I was Adam's mate only as a courtesy.