His wife, Jeanne, was slight and delicate, with straight, sleek light brown hair that framed her face in an old-fashioned look. The faint tingle of otherness in her aura identified her as eldritch, but if I hadn’t known, I’d never have pegged her for a werewolf. Dryad, maybe, but definitely not a wolf.

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Daisy,” she said in a grave little voice with a trace of an accent when we were introduced.

“You, too,” I said, shaking her hand. “You’re not originally from Pemkowet, are you?”

“No.” She flushed slightly, glancing at Cody, and then away. “Montréal.”

“Oh.”

“We met at a gathering of the clans,” Caleb said quietly.

Just like Cody had met the only woman he’d dated in earnest, Caroline Lambert, shot by a hunter. I felt . . . awkward.

“It’s okay,” Cody said. “Hey!” He tousled the hair of a pair of boys who looked to be about five and six. “Meet my favorite nephews. This is Stephen and this big guy’s Elliot. Boys, this is my friend Daisy.”

Both boys stared at me with an intense focus that was unnerving in such little ones, their nostrils flaring and twitching in unison.

“Hi, guys,” I said to them.

Elliot, the older of the two, tugged at his mom’s sleeve. When Jeanne leaned down, he whispered in her ear. “That is not a question we ask in polite company, mon chou,” she said in her Québécois accent.

At an educated guess, I figured he’d asked her what I was. “It’s all right. I don’t mind.”

Jeanne gave me an apologetic look. “Forgive me, but your particular nature . . . I am not sure I’m ready to discuss it with them yet.”

Oh, great. A Canadian werewolf on the down-low was playing the morality card with me. My temper stirred.

She placed a slender hand on my arm. “I mean no offense. You understand that explaining such matters to children is complicated?”

I shrugged. “My mom never had a problem with it. But then, she wasn’t ashamed of me.”

Phosphorescent green flashed behind Jeanne’s mild hazel eyes. Yep, now I could see the wolf.

“Okay, no one said anything about shame,” Cody interjected. “C’mon; let’s go up to the deck. Let the boys play while we fire up the grill.” He gave me a warning look. “Sound good to you, Daisy?”

“Yeah.” Tip the mental glass, pour away the irritation. “Sounds great.”

Elliot tugged at his mom’s sleeve again and whispered another question in her ear. This time, Jeanne’s expression eased. “Yes, of course. It’s perfectly safe.” She made a shooing gesture. “Go, go play.”

The adults retired to the deck, where Cody fetched a round of beers before firing up the grill. I sat with his brother and sister-in-law, who watched indulgently as their young sons played in the glade.