Faythe nodded, holding my gaze. “And you believe that this is all related to your own infection? What, three years ago?”
“Yes. Our primary suspect is the son of the man who infected me, and he might have been involved in my infection as well. Though we didn’t realize that at the time.”
“I assume Titus has told you that there’s a somewhat long and rather inglorious history of men in our community trying to increase the number of women of our species, on their own terms? Invariably through violent and involuntary means?”
“Yes, he mentioned that.” I sipped from the glass of water standing in front of me, which was when I noticed that Vance had brought me one too.
“I have an idea for how to stop that.” Faythe hesitated, her eyes slightly narrowing. “For how to remove the ‘need’ these men think they’re fulfilling. For how to put the power—thedecision—into the hands of women themselves. Where it always should have been.” She shrugged, but the gesture looked anything but casual and impulsive.
She knew exactly what she was saying.
Her trip to see me had not been spontaneous, and neither were her words. Every single bit of this had been planned out. I could see that, even if I had no idea what she was about to say.
“When men of our species start talking about needing more shifter women, they’re not being honest about what they actually want,” Faythe said. “Theysaythey want to ensure the survival of the species, but you and I both know the shifter population isn’t in decline. The density of your zone illustrates that pretty clearly.”
I nodded. She was not wrong.
“Whatnatural-bornshifter men actually want isn’t more members of our community in general, but more ‘purebred’ members, like themselves. Which can only be conceived by shifter women. And whatmostshifter men—both stray and natural-born—want is women they don’t have to keep their species secret from. Women they don’t have to worry about infecting.”
“I mean…” Davey shrugged as she made a toy dance for Wilder. “That last one doesn’t sound totally unreasonable.”
“It isn’t an unreasonable thing to want,” Faythe conceded. “But it’s a very difficult thing toget, for most shifter men. And no male shifter is entitled to his wants at the expense of a woman’s choice in the matter. The choice to marry and/or have shifter babies, or the choice to become a shifter in the first place.”
Davey nodded, clearly still thinking through all the implications.
Faythe turned back to me. “The problem is multi-faceted, obviously. The requirement for secrecy usually prevents shifter men from having true intimacy with a human woman.”
Emotional unavailability: a problem we were all well-acquainted with, in the “stray” Pride.
“And those men whoarein relationships with human women run the risk of accidentally infecting them,” I added, tugging on the thread of her logic. “It’s a low risk for casual relationships, but I’m guessing that risk increases the longer the relationship lasts, because of the frequency of intimate contact.” Which was why I kept Davey strictly off limits to the men in the zone.Allof them
“Exactly.” Faythe nodded. “Infecting someone—even accidentally—is a capital offense, and men aren’t allowed to disclose the possibility of infection. Which means long-term relationships put them at risk of execution, and human women can’t make an informed choice for themselves about whether or not to accept the risk of infection and death.”
“And occasionally, a problematic few of those frustrated men decide to try tomakeshifter women for themselves—even if women die in that effort.”
Femicide, in the quest for a more convenient, satisfying relationship.
Faythe nodded again. “And while that crime itself has been rare up to now, the mindset that inspires it is. And when what’s happening here in your zone becomes public, I’m worried that more men will be inspired to try it. Probably out in the free zones, where they’re less likely to get caught by us, but more likely to expose our species to the public. Which is why I’m here.” She leaned toward me over the table. “I have an idea that might stop shifter men from infecting human women illegally, against their will. Both intentionally and accidentally.”
“Wow. Okay. May I ask how?”
Her green eyes practically glowed. “By making infection legal. Carefully regulated andentirelyabove board. And by taking volunteers.”
TWENTY
“Wait, what?” I blinked at Faythe from across the table, trying to process what she’d just said. “You want to make itlegalto infect women?”
“I want to establish an official process. But only in very limited, specific cases. Only for women whoqualify, and whovolunteer. I am absolutelynottalking about a free-for-all ‘infect the woman of your choice’ -palooza. I’m not talking about individual werecats scratching or biting peopleat all. I’m talking about an official, approved, controlled, medically regulated process. Avolunteerprocess.”
“Okay, wait.” My head spun. Davey was staring at us like her brain had just exploded. “How can they volunteer if they don’t know shifters even exist? Andwhywould they volunteer if scratch fever kills more than ninety-nine percent of the women infected?”
“That’s two questions. I’ll take them in order.” Faythe sipped from her glass, her eyes sparkling with excitement. Which was when I realized—reallyrealized—she was serious. She wasdead fucking serious. “They would have to know. Obviously. And the truth is that some women already know. They aren’t supposed to, but you know better than anyone that that system is untenable. My understanding is that one of the victims you’re fighting for…she knew her husband was a shifter?”
“And her brother,” I said.
Faythe nodded. “My brother’s wife, Holly, she knows too. It’s virtually impossible, in some cases, to keep our species a secret, and that’s only going to get harder as time goes by. So, my idea is that we start with those women. The ones who already know. The ones whowantto belong to the same world as their brothers and husbands. As their fathers and friends.”
I could still feel Davey staring at me. At Faythe. She’d stopped breathing. She washolding her breath, listening to us.
