He strode toward the kitchen and stopped halfway, his face a snarl. “What the hell do you have in your pantry, a dead vampire?”

“No. Only the head of one.” I had double-bagged the head, sealing it in plastic, and still he smelled it.

I perched on the edge of the table and nodded toward the gathering of white cartons. “Help yourself. There’s fried rice in there somewhere.”

He put his paper bag on the floor, picked a carton indistinguishable from any other, took the spoon I offered him, and popped the carton open. “Peas,” he said with disgust. “Why the hell do they always put peas in it?”

“So what brought you here so bright and early?”

He used his spoon to pick out the peas with great care, depositing them into the trash. “Heard that you got something.”

“Boy wonder snitched on me?”

“Yeah.”

“When? This morning?”

Curran nodded. “It’s the blood oath. For example, if he were to get his leg ripped to shreds, it’s his duty to warn us that he can no longer guard you to the best of his ability. Someone had to come and assess the situation.”

“Since when is ‘someone’ you? Don’t you have plenty of flunkies to run your errands?”

He shrugged. “Just checking on the kid.”

“Last night his leg looked like it went through a shredder. He won’t let me look at it, but I think the bone is intact.” A shapechanger’s body healed the flesh wounds within a couple of days. Mending bones took much longer.

Curran swallowed a mouthful of rice. “Figures. He’s young. It’s important to be stoic when you’re a young guy. You didn’t fuss over him, did you?”

“No. He should be limping in pretty soon.”

“You’re going to show me what screwed up his leg?”

“After I’m done eating.”

“Weak stomach?”

“No. It’s a pain in the ass to wrap it back up.”

A careful, measured knock interrupted us. I went to open the door and let Derek inside. He saw Curran and stopped. He wasn’t exactly at attention, but he came close.

Curran waved him in, and Derek took a chair out of the way. I looked at Curran. “Any more rice in there?”

He chose another container and gave it to me. I opened it and pushed it toward Derek. “Eat.”

He waited.

He had to be ravenous. The amount of calories his body burned to repair itself ensured that the mere hint of food filled his mouth with drool.

“Derek, eat,” I said.

He smiled and sat still.

Something was wrong here. I glanced at Curran and put two and two together.

“This is my house.”

They both looked at me with the patient expression Japanese traditionalists adopt when silly gajin ask them why they go through all that trouble just to drink a cup of tea.