And Zane looked Brumous. Reallylookedhim. At the way his nostrils flared tracking Seri’s scent upstairs, at the protective hunch when Cas shifted from one foot to the other, at his soulful blue eyes.
“We’ll ask him,” he agreed at last.
“Ours or not, I’m telling you, he’sjust a wolf.” Cas threw up his hands.
“And you’re just a prick,” Zane shot back, “but we still tolerateyou.”
“What if this goes sideways?” Cas grunted.
“I’ll pull out.” Zane’s smile was fragile, and I paused. Maybe this was a bad idea.
“Is your pull-out game strong?” I asked to test him.
“It’s as non-existent as yours, bro,” he sassed.
“At least I’m confident enough in my masculinity to brag about my V-card.”
“This is the dumbest conversation ever,” Cas muttered as red scored the tips of his ears. He squared his already rigid shoulders. “Even if we link with the pup, how does it help Seri? Arabesque’s spell still silences her tighter than—”
“Unless itdoesn’t,” I cut Cas off as an idea hit me like a backhand. “Telepathy isn’t speech. If Zane can navigate Brumous’ cracked marbles—”
“Wait.” Z rocked back on his heels. “Now you want me to dig throughSeri’smemory dumpster? What do I look like, some psychic raccoon?”
“Yes to both.”
“Ha! Finally a stupid stunt that Z balks at!” Cas cracked.
“Only with her consent, dumbass.” My fist clenched. “But if Brumous witnessed things—”
“Assuming Wolfward McFurpants evenhascoherent memories under all that damage.” Zane snagged the sugar bowl off of the counter, lifted the lid, and peered inside. “And assuming he doesn’t explode my cerebral cortex with third-hand trauma.”
“You survived Dad’s ‘interrogation techniques’ at twelve.” I shrugged. “How much worse could fractured wolf brain be?”
The refrigerator hummed. Outside, an owl screeched. Upstairs, mattress springs creaked nearly soundlessly under Seri’s restless turns.
“Just see what’s possible with this guy first,” I said.
“And when Princess Sleeps-a-lot wakes up?” Zane tossed sugar cubes into his mouth one by one. “You’ll just go, ‘Hey Seri, mind if Z roots through your subconscious while you sip chamomile?’ ”
“We’ll phrase it politely,” I said.
Casimir snorted.
“All right, Koala Bear, but when this backfires?” Sitting down the sugar bowl, Zane plucked a leftover steak slice from the platter, grease glistening on his thumb. “You’reexplaining to Seri why her puppy’s howling at taxidermy documentaries.”
“Since you’re bothsooosure, let’s do this.” Cas shook his finger at Zane, then Brumous. “But if either of you barfs rainbows this time, I’m charging cleanup fees.”
#
Moving into the living room, I sank into an armchair. Cas stood by the window, his arms crossed, his expression a mask of skepticism.
“This is a waste of time,” he muttered.
“Come on, Cas,” Zane said, tossing a glance over his shoulder. “Lighten up. It’s just a little steak.”
Brumous hesitated, but the promise of food was too enticing. He padded closer, his nose twitching as he sniffed the air. Zane offered the steak, and the wolf took it gingerly, his teeth never touching Zane’s fingers.
“You’re such a little beggar,” Z chuckled, petting the pup’s thick ruff.
