Bonnie growled at the cleaner until he backed down, then she came to lean against my side, almost knocking me down with her heft.
“I would go if I were you,” I told the man, and I wasn’t being snide about it. “Maybe tell Ford to come? Quickly? Not run, you understand, but to walk swiftly and with purpose?”
After smoothing a hand over his balding pate, the man sauntered off with as much dignity as he could muster. Until Bonnie huffed in his direction. Then he squeaked like a mouse before skittering away to safety.
“You can change back now,” I told her, and I hoped she didn’t notice the faint tremor in my voice.
Don’t get me wrong, I had seen gwyllgi shift, but usually there was a pane of glass between them and me. Never had I stood this close to one on all fours, where all those details I had missed—the sharpness of her teeth, the pinkness of her gums, the brightness of her eyes—were crystal clear.
A soft whine escaped her, and she rested more of her weight against me, reminding me of a Great Dane who thought it would fit in its owner’s lap as an adult the same as it had as a puppy.
There was no delicate way to ask, but never let it be said that stopped me. “Are you…stuck?”
Another pitiful, whistling exhale more or less confirmed it.
“Do you want me to call Midas?” A shake of her head nixed that idea. “Okay then. We’ll wait on Ford.”
The man in question arrived five impossibly long minutes later, torn between awe and horror when he spotted Bonnie. I didn’t understand the combination, but his gawking caused her fur to stand on end.
“She’s stuck,” I said when he didn’t make a peep. “Can you help her?”
“Stuck?” He wiped the back of his hand over his mouth. “Well, damn.”
“She’s an albino,” I prompted when he continued to stare. “Does that have any special significance?”
“Yeah.” He blinked a few times. “It sure as hell does.” He leaned forward to get a better look, but even that intrusion into her personal space made her snarl. “This explains why Midas took responsibility for her.”
“How would he know the color of her fur based on a sniff test?”
“Not her color, her species,” he explained. “She’s gwyllgi.”
“I got that part.” I gestured toward the hulking beast. “Are all albinos this huge?”
“No.” He checked to make sure we were alone. “I mean, she’s gwyllgi.”
“Oh.”
Fae.
That’s what he meant. She was fae. As in a pureblooded fae. As in born-in-Faerie fae. A fae-fae.
The exact thing all good necromancers are forbidden to approach, speak to, interact with, etc.
As if I needed a reminder I wasn’t good by anyone’s standards, my shadow perked with sudden interest.
Fae didn’t just have magic, they were magic, and Ambrose strained against his leash for a taste. He was eyeing her like a starving man handed a plate at a buffet, but I smashed his dreams with a tug on the bond that connected us, reminding him who was in charge, however thin the margin.
Bonnie nudged me, a soft cry in her throat, like she was pleading with me for understanding.
The fact the Atlanta pack harbored an undisclosed number of their Faerie relatives was a secret very few knew, and it was information they would kill to protect. Bonnie’s identity was a burden, a huge one, and I wished I could shrug it off, but now Ford knew I knew she was the real deal.
“She must have been using a charm to mask her scent,” he decided. “Only on her human self, since I can smell her loud and clear now that she’s shifted.”
The subject of magical augmentation hit too close to home, so I redirected him. “Okay, so what about white is special?”
“Gwyllgi born with albinism are always, without exception, powerful healers. They’re kept under lock and key. No pack who has one will let them go without a fight, whether the gwyllgi is on board or not.”
That might explain why she fled her old pack, but it’s not like we could ask with her currently embracing life on four legs. “Can you communicate with her?”
“She can understand us,” he told me, “but I would have to shift to converse with her, and I can tell you right now that’s a terrible idea. She would view me as a threat, and she would attack. She can barely control her instincts with me on two legs.”
“What are we going to do with her?” I tipped back my head, annoyed at the rising sun and how its bright glare made my head ache. “I can’t bring her home with me.”
I almost mentioned I hadn’t paid a pet deposit, but that was the exhaustion talking.
“She lives at the Faraday,” he confessed. “She was uncomfortable at the den.”
That explained how she joined Midas within minutes. She definitely hadn’t been on-scene with us.
“How are we going to get her inside without anyone seeing her?”
“Will you consent to being taken to the den?” he asked her. “Just until you can shift back?”
Bonnie flattened her ears against her head and bared her teeth.
Panic must have been fueling her reaction. More like overreaction. There was no reason for her sudden aggression at the mention of the den. The alpha was there, and if anyone could unstick Bonnie, it was Tisdale.
“I’m guessing that’s a no.” I joined him in a sigh. “Let’s get her loaded into the bed of your truck.”
“Okay, but how is that going to get her inside the Faraday without exposing her to rubberneckers? It’s almost lunchtime, darlin’. The streets will be packed downtown.”
“Leave it to me.” I started walking and trusted Bonnie to follow. “I know a guy.”
The guy was Bishop, and boy was he in for a surprise.
Bishop met us at the Faraday with an industrial laundry cart on fat wheels, stuffed with heaps of pastel fabric that resembled the contents of my scrap heap. He tossed a few sheets in the bed of the truck where Bonnie lay flattened on her side, then parked the cart beneath the tailgate, which he lowered after she chuffed her readiness.
I palmed my forehead when the lump no one would believe for a hot minute was a pile of laundry started wagging its tail.
“Help me hold this up,” Bishop said, passing me the corner of a sheet. “This will give her some cover to hop down.”
Doing as he asked, even though it put me close enough to the zoom of ravenous motorists that I felt a breeze from each passing vehicle, I pretended this was a totally normal activity fit for human consumption while silently thanking my lucky stars this was a pack problem and not one I had created.
Except Bonnie obviously hadn’t shifted since the pack took her in until now, since no one except Midas had a clue what she was, and she hadn’t felt the need until she met…me.
Well, frak.
“Ready?” Bishop rippled the sheet. “Olé!”
Bonnie leapt into the cart, which made a popping/grinding/screeching noise that couldn’t be good.
After closing the tailgate, Bishop, Ford, and I lifted the cart out of the road and back onto the sidewalk.
“Where did you even find this?” I panted at Bishop. “The Faraday doesn’t have a laundry service.”