I nodded. The shift to “deep religion” wasn’t unusual. Half of the mountain towns had gone “deep” before the “Live-Life-with-God” movement gave them a new dogma.

Curran rubbed his neck, biceps rolling under the sleeve of his shirt. “When the kid was fourteen, they went to an end-of-the-world tent revival and daddy brought home the Lyc-V.”

He sat next to me. “He didn’t know what the fuck it was or how to deal with it. He didn’t even know enough to get help. Went loup within days. Loups are contagious as hell. Derek’s mother killed herself after she got infected and left her rabid husband alone with seven kids. Five of them were girls.”

I swallowed the hard clump in my throat. “How long?”

“Two years.” Curran’s face was grim. “They killed a passing lycanthrope midway through the first year and Derek found the Code on his body. That and starvation kept him sane.”

“So how did it end?”

“The way it always does. The kid became competition for the females and the father tried to kill him. The kid has a good beast-form and he can keep it steady.”

The beast-form is the warrior form, superior to both animal and man. Most first-generation shapechangers have trouble with beast-form, unable to maintain it longer than a few seconds. They get better with practice, but it takes years of trial and error.

“Derek killed his dad?”

“And set the house on fire.”

“What of the other children?”

“Dead. Two from starvation, three from daddy’s affections, and the last one burned to death. We went through the rubble and buried the bones.”

“And now you’re giving him to me? Why, Curran? I can’t be responsible for him, I’m doing a piss-poor job of being responsible for myself.”

His gaze held enough contempt to drown me. “Derek can handle himself. I don’t tolerate loss of control. He’s been tested and he won’t lose his way when he smells the blood. In your place, I’d worry more about your own ass.”

“Well, you’re not in my place.” I rose to my feet. Time to go.

We walked back to the room, where Curran said a few words to Mahon and left. Mahon approached me. “I’ll show you out. Derek’ll meet us at the entrance.”

“Please make sure he takes a shower,” I said. “Lots and lots of Irish Spring. I don’t want the People smelling blood or wolf on him.”

Mahon led me a different way, through the maze of dim passages and branching tunnels that brought us to a wooden door. Mahon leaned his palm against it and it swung open.

“Curran wanted you to see this before you left,” he said.

In the room, on a simple metal table under a glass hood laced with preserving spells, lay the head of Sam Buchanan.

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 5