Dr. Carver left as soon as he had his samples. He was obviously eager to study Kaci’s blood, and frankly, I was just as eager for the results. I was sure they would prove my theory and earn me a little respect.

Okay, maybe not actual respect. I’d settle for a “Good job, Faythe.” Though in truth, I was even less likely to get that.

“So, my blood will tell him that my parents were human?” Kaci scooted across the empty bed to lean with her back against the window, though the glass must have been cold through her blouse.

“Sort of.” I tucked my feet beneath me on the bed, yoga style. “It’ll tell him for sure whether or not you were born a werecat. If you were, then your parents were werecats, too. If you weren’t, then they weren’t either, and you must have been infected at some point, even if you don’t remember it.”

For several minutes she picked at the edges of the square Band-Aid in the crook of her elbow, evidently trying to absorb what I’d said.

I stared out the window over her head until a glint from the late-afternoon sun reminded me of the passage of time, and my own approaching deadline. You need to ask her the important questions. But I really didn’t want to, even if it would prove my worth to the tribunal.

My finger traced a pattern in the comforter beneath me, and I steeled myself to hear things I wouldn’t like. “Kaci, what do you remember about the day your mom and sister died?”

Her head snapped up so quickly I thought I heard her neck pop. “How did you know about that?”

“My brother found several news stories online.” Her frown morphed into a mask of fright, and I did my best to relax her. “Kaci, we had to know who you are. Thirteen-year-old tabby cats don’t just wander out of the woods—or into a bruin’s backyard—on a daily basis. We had to know who’s looking for you. Not to mention where you came from, and where you belong.”

“I don’t belong anywhere.” She stood with her back to me and began folding the clothes still covering the other bed. “I can’t go back to Cranbrook. Not after what happened.”

She’d get no argument from me there. We could no more send her back to a human father than we could purge the infection from her body. “Are you ready to talk about it? About what happened to your mom and sister? And to you?”