Page 24 of The Biting Bargain

He points at me.

I stare at him.

Vincent stares at me. He looks like he's going to snap a vein in his forehead any second.

"Plain talk, Aidan," he says, deceptively calm. "What the hell is going on?"

The doctor — who appears to be called Aidan, and is probably something like a servant or an assistant, but who doesn't act like one at all, and who isn't the least bit intimidated, for Vincent's gloom bounces off his good humor like water off a duck — chuckles.

"It's quite simple, sir." He turns to me. "You're a witch, aren't you, Ms Bukowski?"

I blush and nod. I've already been busted, however it doesn't change the fact that I've done something wrong and obviously managed to further complicate a disastrous situation. And when Club Sanguine finds out about it — which is probably already the case anyway — I can kiss my money goodbye for good.

Aiden beams.

"Amazing! Your abilities don’t show in your blood work at all. Almost nonexistent. Your blood and DNA don't jump to any of the usual markers. Only the Quadro III test comes up, which really only responds in correlation with certain immune system overreactions, and only if the parameters..."

"Aidan," Vincent growls, louder this time, pinching the bridge of his nose. "We don't have all night."

"Of course not, sir." Aidan beams. "Am I right that magical abilities haven't really manifested in your family for a couple of generations, Ms Bukowski?"

I nod, still mortified.

Magic is dead in my family. My mum was the last to still manage a meager, little flame. I had long theorized that this was related to her leaving. That she couldn't bear normal life with a normal husband and a completely magic-free daughter or something. The shard of memory still cuts deep and I quickly stuff it back into my mental basement.

"Yeah," I croak, looking down at my sneakers.

"Fascinating, fascinating," Aidan says, still bubbly, swiping at his tablet.

Then I blink as my overtaxed brain finally connects the dots. Vincent being cursed, me breaking the curse, Aidan babbling about a counter curse… then my memories of a snarling beast attacking my attackers…

"You're really a werewolf," I blurt out.

Vincent glares at me. He, the super-hot, dark, intimidating vampire lord, no doubt a big deal in the vampire community, filthy rich, influential — has a dirty little secret.

A furry one, at that.

"It's top secret, of course," Aidan chimes in cheerfully, scribbling away on his tablet. "None of what you hear here can ever get out, Polly. The consequences would be most unpleasant."

That would be an understatement. Werewolves and vampires get along about as well as two angry skunks locked in a crate. I stare back at Vincent. His scowl gives this situation the gravity it deserves.

Vincent Renard. A vampire that turns into a werewolf.

My mind is spinning with questions. He must have been bitten at some point, how else do you become a werewolf? The curse is only transmitted through a bite. My memory flashes when I asked him if he had ever been bitten and he froze. No wonder he was so piqued. I eye him up and down, fascinated at the absurdity of the situation.

"But how did that happen?" I whisper at last.

Aidan is already drawing breath, no doubt to give me a lengthy explanation, but Vincent cuts him off.

"That doesn't matter."

"But..." I frown, daring to take a half step forward. "It didn't occur until now, did it? If it had, you wouldn't be so upset about it."

His jaw tightens.

"Everything was fine until you showed up," he says darkly.

"Mr. Renard's condition has been held in check by a counter curse," Aidan interjects helpfully, ignoring his boss's scowl. "We’re not entirely sure yet, since the numbers are completely wild, but apparently the combination of your blood, Ms. Bukowski, and the fact that you two kissed triggered your hibernating witchcraft to demolish Mr. Renard’s counter curse."

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