Page 143 of Junk Magic

I waved an arm.

And shortly afterward had a clump of cotton tossed to me, because the cave was a little way up a hill.

It turned out to be jeans and a western shirt in Cyrus’s size, and jeans and a loose fitting, cotton V-neck in mine. There was no underwear for either of us, but I didn’t feel like complaining. I emerged first and stood there, blinking in the sunlight, and then picked my way down the hill to where Caleb was waiting for me.

I hugged him, which wasn’t protocol, but screw it, he’d brought me jeans.

“Thank you,” I whispered.

“For what?”

“Not making me have to hitchhike back to Vegas in the nude.”

“Oh. I thought it was for leading a raid—with a concussion, I might add—on a Circle establishment riddled with traitors.”

“That too.”

I kissed his cheek, which seemed to surprise him, and then I swear he blushed. I would have ribbed him for that, but I was feeling too good. And then the moment was lost when half a dozen shiny black jeeps and SUVs came bumping over the rocky ground, I assumed courtesy of the council.

Sophie came up and handed Cyrus, who had emerged after me still pulling on his shirt, a phone. “Sebastian,” she said, and he nodded and walked a little way off.

I sat with Caleb on the side of the hill as water and tea and juices were handed out, along with a variety of sandwiches.

“Thank you,” Caleb said, grinning at a pretty brown girl with ringlets.

Right before he discovered that his sandwich was mostly made out of cucumber.

“What? Just because I’m the human, I get the shit sandwich?” he called after her, and she tossed him a pert look over her shoulder.

I traded him for my ham and Swiss.

The least I could do was eat the rabbit food, since I’d already had the rabbit.

“Am I still wanted?” I asked, after some chewing.

“No. The camera feeds at the base exonerated you. Clear cut case of self-defense if I ever saw one, although the way you took down that medic was a bit . . . extreme.”

I laughed, and then kept on laughing at the look on his face, until I got a piece of watercress stuck in my throat and almost choked.

Extreme.

Yeah.

I was gonna need a new definition for that one.

And then something occurred to me. I sat there, chewing cress and cucumber and cream cheese, and flexed a hand, summoning an apple from a basket a guy was passing around. It was sluggish, because my call had been tentative, but the fruit moved.

And then zoomed into my hand when I tightened my grip, and pulled.

“Still hungry?” Caleb asked, with a raised brow.

“Wait,” I said, and looked at my other hand.

It was dirty and had some disturbing stuff caught under the nails that I decided not to think about. But that didn’t matter. Only one thing did, and I licked my lips, wondering if I wanted to know.

But I had to. I couldn’t live like this anymore, not knowing who or what the hell I was. Not after last night.

I concentrated, and it was easier than I’d expected. As easy as it had looked when mother had sometimes transformed her legs only, to give her extra height to reach something off of a shelf, and then shrank back down as if nothing had happened. Only in my case, it was a paw, with black fur and long, dark nails.

---