A tight knot formed in his throat, but he managed to squeeze out, “Thanks, Monica. If it’s a boy, will you name him Aaron, after my dad?”
She nodded, the tips of her braids slithering over the top of her thighs. “And Irene for a girl?”
He considered for a moment, thinking of the pictures he’d found of his mother as a child, with her golden ringlets bound by ribbons. “How about ‘Brenda Irene’?”
“Works for me.”
Monica continued coaching him for the “big night,” but she didn’t mention kids again.
DUSTINlay awake, an all too common occurrence lately, hoping to hear pebbles against the window. Around 2:00 a.m., he gave up and fell into a fitful doze, wondering what the next evening would bring.
Chapter 21
SETHshowered and shaved, wondering why he went to such effort when most of his evening would be spent on all fours, terrorizing crickets and earthworms. His stomach heaved. The grandfather clockbongedfive times. Only five o’clock?
He donned a pair of blue jeans,sansboxers, per Monica’s instructions, then paced the sitting room before plopping down on the settee, only to hop back up and begin pacing again. Where the hell was she?
Desperate for a distraction, he logged on to his media site profile to post an update. What would he say? “Turning into a possum tonight. If you don’t hear from me again, check under the oak tree by the pond”?
He wound up doing research instead. After typing “possums” into a search engine, he read up on possum kind, hoping to gain some kind of advantage. Instead, all he found were more possibilities for marsupial munching.
One hour before sundown, his coach arrived.
“Should we eat first?” Seth asked, though he doubted he’d be able to force anything past the lump in his throat, or if he did, it wouldn’t stay down with all the churning in his belly.
“No need. There’s more protein in crickets than in ground beef. Plus, we always spread baked goods out on the field, have ourselves a feast.”
Seth felt his face go green.
“What? Don’t tell me you’re gonna wuss out on me again and be squeamish.”
“No, I’m okay. Just a nervous stomach.” Averynervous stomach, as in, every cricket he’d eaten a month ago suddenly reanimated in his belly and proceeded to kick him with six legs each.
“That’s to be expected.”
Seth had a hard time reconciling this kinder, gentler Monica with the bloodthirsty harpy he’d imagined her to be the first day he’d met her. Then again, if she spoke too loudly or made any sudden moves tonight, he might start running and not stop until he reached Chicago. He peeked out the window at the sun, now a mere sliver showing over the treetops. His heart beat double-time. It wouldn’t be long now. “Is it time to go?” he ventured, still hoping to wake up from the really weird dream he seemed to be having.
Leaning against the doorframe, the picture of icy coolness, Monica replied, “Yes. Are you ready?”
“No.”
“Wrong answer. If you don’t believe in yourself, the passel won’t either.”
Forcing his shoulders back, Seth exhaled slowly, letting the tension seep out with the breath. He squared his shoulders, forcing his head as high as his five-foot-nine-inch height allowed.
“Bring up the aura a bit, let everyone waiting out there tonight see what you’re made of.”
Seth poked the possum and snickered, thinking how much that sounded like “choking the chicken.” His inner critter grinned.Crickets tonight!it chirped.
“Dustin will address the passel, announce you as his choice for
Irene’s successor, and ask if anyone contests his decision.” Monica rubbed his shoulders like he’d seen managers do to boxers before a prizefight.
“What’ll I say?”
“Nothing, unless someone asks you a direct question. Campaign season’s over—tonight’s the election. Now, if you’re ready, let’s go.” Instead of her usual jeans, scrubs, or overalls, tonight Monica wore a strapless sundress, held in place only by elastic at the top. Her hair hung in waves down her back. She looked… pretty. But he didn’t dare tell her that. “Some of the weaker shifters will be feeling the moon by now.”
Together they marched out the front door and past the barn. Frogs called from the direction of the pond; an owl hooted from the woods. “We need to watch out for him,” Monica warned.
