“More like my entire body. Into a bear. Then my friends would probably shoot me in self-defense.”
“So you discovered Zen at a whorehouse.”
He smiled. “I discovered the woman who taught me Zen there.” He shrugged. “She later told me that she was sent in a dream to find me and bring me peace.”
“And it became your spiritual focus?”
He nodded. “The greatest worth is self-mastery.” He arched a brow. “I spent every moment I could at the temple studying. She had books on the history of shifters, scrolls that outlined the force of magic. They look like physics textbooks, but the words were all about the magic or the force or whatever the hell you want to call it.” He turned his attention back to the road. “And she taught me to feel it at a level no one else does.”
Cecilia abruptly pushed forward. “You feel magic?”
He nodded, pushing himself to admit what he had told no one else. “Imagine standing in an electrical current all the time. First, you have to be aware of it, then you can sense changes in it. Like when it pushes you to do something.”
“Yousensethat?” she stressed.
“Yes.”
She leaned back in her seat and looked at him. “You’re a pretty fascinating guy.”
He didn’t think so. He felt like he’d bounced around a lot in his life. He’d gone into the army because his mother has forced him. He’d picked medicine because he was a terrible shot. And he hadn’t truly studied anything until he’d met the woman who’d taught him discipline, silence, and magic.
Meanwhile, Cecilia’s expression had turned wistful. “My grandmother tried to get me into Buddhism.” She shrugged. “I preferred to worship at the altar of science.”
That made sense.
“But now that I know magic is real…” Her voice trailed away, and he shot her a quick glance.
“You’re giving up science?”
“Hell no. But I might become an alchemist. That’s the word, right? People who put scientific methods to studying magic?”
“I thought it was more about turning copper to gold.”
She shrugged. “Well, that could be helpful, too. Do you know how underfunded the CDC is?”
No, he didn’t. But he had fun asking her about it and hearing stories about the lengths her coworkers had gone to get toner for their printers or extra lab coats after getting burned or gassed or spilled on.
He was smiling by the time they made it to the hospital. He could have sat and listened to her stories for years, but they were here. And worse, the moment he put the car in park, her expression sobered, and she touched his arm.
“I need you to explain something to me.” He didn’t respond, but waited patiently for the question. It took her a moment to realize he wasn’t going to speak and then she fumbled with her words, unusually embarrassed. “So, um, can you sense…you know by smell or something?”
“Sense what?”
“If someone can…” She waved vaguely at his body. Then she frowned. “If there’s magic there? If they can shift?” Her hand gestured included the two of them. “You said you can feel the magic—”
“Just in a general sense, and it’s everywhere.”
“Right. But not everyone can shift.”
She was asking if he could tell if someone had shifter DNA. It was valid question, and frankly, she was adorable in the way she fumbled, worried that she’d embarrass him or something. So even though he was smiling, he answered as honestly as he could.
“I can usually scent it right before someone changes, if I’m standing close enough. And sometimes it’s really obvious if someone’s a shifter, though that’s not a hundred percent. We were pretty sure with Sammy for the past year, but it wasn’t certain until yesterday.”
“I need to understand the biology of shifters. And I need you to talk to a hybrid girl and her parents.”
His entire body tightened with alarm. “No. No talking to parents. No explaining things. Not my job.”
She arched her brows. “You explained them to me.”
