Page 41 of Last But Not Leashed

Ethel’s mother laughed. “Don’t run, don’t cheat, and expect a diet high in protein. If she starts chewing on you, give her some jerky. That’ll give her something to gnaw on.”

“Good to know.”

When I thought of libraries, books came to mind. I stood in the doorway of a mad scientist’s lab blended with a morgue. A few computers, the kind I wished I could afford, were scattered around the room at cluttered workstations. A lone shelf protected with glass held a collection of books I estimated were at least a hundred years old, and unless I’d lost my mind, I was willing to bet they were bound with human skin, likely the victim of someone who’d annoyed one of Ethel’s ancestors.

I remembered some of my basic biology courses; unlike most magic species, elves could exist even when there wasn’t any magic in the world. Lycanthropes did, too, although it was harder to contract the virus without a source of strong magic.

“All right, sugar. First up is your DNA sample, that way if some other dumbfuck tries to steal you from my baby girl, you’ll be easier to track. It’ll also give us a chance to check your genetics so we can be ready for your contributions to the family line.”

As I wasn’t anywhere near brave enough to tell an elf no, I held out my hand so she could steal some of my blood from near my elbow. She stole an entire vial before she was happy. “Before infection, I was mostly vanilla.”

“Good. Ethel needs a challenge. How vanilla, sugar? They tell you the percentage?”

“Ninety-seven percent human.”

Ethel’s mother blinked. “Well I’ll be damned. You don’t get much purer than that nowadays. What are you now?”

“Ninety-five and a half. I was ninety-six after confirmed infection. I don’t think I’ll be losing any more genetic points; been a few years since I developed the hybrid form.”

“One and a half percentage points of lycanthrope, ninety-five and change human, and three percent of what?”

“The CDC wouldn’t tell me.”

Ethel’s mother giggled and passed the vial to Ethel’s uncle. “Alan, be a dear and find out what our little boy here is while I start looking into the idiot who started this mess.”

“Welcome to hell, son.”

From the little I knew about elves, they were violent, territorial, and took offense to a lot of things, especially those who touched their property—and people counted as property to them. Had I been wise, I would’ve begun planning my escape the instant I’d learned Ethel was a quarter elf so the rest of her family wouldn’t decide I was part of their territory.

Accepting the inevitable would make my life easier. “I’m not leaving here until the culprit’s found, am I?”

“No wonder she likes you. You use your head.” Ethel’s mother flashed me a smile.

Vampires dreamed of having incisors like hers, and a few tigers would get fang envy, too. Why hadn’t I found a way to escape? With her teeth, I could easily believe she could eat anything she wanted with little difficulty. “Thank you, ma’am.”

“Missy or Mom,” she ordered. “Only Ethel gets away with Ma.”

Like with Ethel, I couldn’t resist testing my luck and her temperament to learn how I’d have to handle the rest of my life. “If I called you Ma and you killed me, would you or Ethel win the resulting fight?”

“I’ve changed my mind. You can call me your ma if you’d like. I’ve seen that gleam in my daughter’s eyes enough times to know you’ll test your luck because you can. Just do me the favor of waiting for when I’m around when you test my baby girl’s patience.”

Why not? I had nothing to lose, and if Ethel’s mother liked me, she might rescue my ass when I crossed the line too far. “I’ll try.”

“Smart boy. All right.” Ethel’s mother rubbed her hands together and sat in front of the nearest workstation, grabbing a sleek laptop beside the large monitor half buried under what I thought was building blueprints. “Start talking, sugar. What do you know about the vic?”

I gave her all the details I knew about Mr. Santiago Jones, his work, and the hybrid wanting to claim him as her mate.

“Well, shit. That’s dumber than dumb. He’d be infected soon enough without help. That probably eliminates her pack unless he done told the bitch no, and considering she brought the whole pack out, she was confident in her chances. Any confirmations?”

“An angel verified the hybrid wasn’t involved. Unknown about the rest of the pack.” I explained my suspicions about Mr. Coolridge and the mall management.

“It’s easier to accept a cursed friend than an unknown. Stupid to us, sensible to them—and ignorant all around, since it’ll be years for that guard to be of use.”

“That was the conclusion we’d come to,” I admitted.

“Missy, the attacker was a professional who covered his tracks. We’re not finding the lycanthrope. He was too thorough in his cleanup.”

“I don’t care about the lycanthrope. I care about who hired the lycanthrope—and I haven’t looked into the matter yet, as my baby girl is a worrywart whiner.”