Page 11 of His Whispered Witch

The smile fell off his face as if it had never been, as if he had never smiled before in his life. “The school of life is never bullshit.”

She nodded, wondering what the school of life had taught him. She had a feeling it wasn’t an easy course.

“Honestly, 90% of the time, the problem is the owner,” she added and then bit her tongue, remembering she was speaking to an owner.

He laughed again, but it wasn’t the kind that made laugh lines.

“So,” she said. She would get through this if it killed her. “How I work is that I talk to your animal. Metaphorically! And I figure out what the trouble is, and we work together to make a plan to make their lives better?”

“You mean to make the owners better.”

She laughed and then bit her lip to stop herself. “Something like that.”

“And does it help? Does it make any difference at all?”

Penn fought a spurt of outrage. “Of course, it helps. There may be no degree in animal psychology, but this isn’t a scam. I’m better than anyone with any kind of degree you’ll ever find.”

She trailed off, watching the play of emotion on his face, from chagrin to approval. She realized he wasn’t challenging her but seeking hope. He was desperate. What was his animal? She needed to get her hands on it. What problem would worry him so much?

“How can I help?” she finally asked and resisted leaning forward to touch some part of him.

“I don’t know,” he said, and ancient eyes caught hers again.

She swayed toward him and then sat back abruptly. “Well, let’s start with your animal. Why didn’t you bring it today? Are they hurt? Because I don’t heal physical wounds.” It was the hardest part of her talent. She could talk to them but not heal them.

“I did bring it.”

She laughed and bit her tongue hard enough to taste blood to get herself to stop. Visions of invisible werewolves ran through her head. She looked at his pockets. Was it a spider?

The first stirrings of disquiet drifted through her. Was he scamming her? Was he crazy? She was not defenseless here—especially with the newly revealed crossbow—but magical defense wasn’t clean.

Maybe something else was going on. She asked slowly, “Is it in the room with us right now?”

“Yes?”

“Where?”

He took a huge breath. “It’s me.”

“You’re the animal you want help with.” She was up and across the room before she’d even blinked, her hands clutching the doorknobs of two of the cabinets. “Okay, that’s not something I can help you with.”

“No, you don’t understand?—”

“I’m a professional!” She blanched. “Not that kind of professional. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, but that’s not me!”

He held out both hands, palms up. “No, I’m literally an animal. I’m a wolf.”

Her blood rushed away from her head. Her vision narrowed, and she clenched her abs, trying to stay upright. “You’re a wolf.”

“I’m a wolf.”

“Like you turn into a wolf. You are a werewolf. You are a shifter. You are a werewolf shifter wolf.”

“Yes.”

“How did you get in here?”

“I walked?” he said, sounding confused.

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