“Was?”
“Yeah. Died of an overdose a few months back.”
Maybe Noah shouldn’t have asked. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.”
“Do you get home to see the rest of your family much?” If Noah had family, he might never leave them.
Slade paused for a few moments before answering, in a low voice, “I wish, but I can’t.”
“You can’t? Why not? Don’t you get along with them?”
Slade stared out at nothing. “You’ve been honest with me, and I reckon it’s fair I do the same. What do you know about sorcerers?”
“Not much, except to avoid them. Why? You said there were witches in your family. I don’t think witches and sorcerers get along very well.”
“I don’t know much about either, but I got on the wrong side of a sorcerer once. I didn’t intend to, just one of those things. The next thing I know, he shows up at my door, grabs my hand, and curses me. Left this damned mark.” Slade held out his hand.
The swirling black tattoo. “What was the curse, if you don’t mind my asking?”
“I’ll never be able to settle down. If I try to stay in one place for more than a month, I’ll die. Which is why we keep moving.” Slade let out a heavy breath. “I tried once or twice. The first time, I think I’d’ve been dead if my brother hadn’t found me. He took me to a hospital in another town. As soon as we cleared the city limit, I got better. Now, about three days before I have to leave, I start feeling signs. Stomach cramps, headaches.”
Wow. Noah kept on the move, too, for different reasons, but he usually stayed put longer than a month. “What do you mean by one place? A city? A town?
Slade’s voice didn’t change from its normal drawling, unhurried pace. “In the early days, I tried to figure out the limits. Sometimes it’s a city, but in the country, the county limits affect me.”
“How long has this been going on?”
Slade sipped his beer, staring into the fire. “Ten years. Ten long, fucking years.”
Noah never having heard of such curses didn’t mean anything. So much about the world he didn’t know. “You say he grabbed your hand.”
“Yeah.” Slade cradled his right hand. “Cursed me and left a damned ugly mark only me and witches can see. And you. I reckon only ordinary humans can’t see it then. My brother sure can't. Which makes me feel better, in a weird way, ‘cause sometimes, I feel like everything’s all in my head. I mean, who believes in curses?”
Noah shrugged. “Lots of other things people don’t believe in.” He tried for a smile. “Like werewolves.”
Slade returned the smile, lifting his beer can in a toast. “To werewolves and other things that go bump in the night.”
“To werewolves.” The “things that go bump in the night” comment sent Noah’s mind reeling. Here he sat with a human, conversing about werewolves, sorcerers, and witches. “Is there any way to break the curse?”
Slade stayed quiet for so long Noah feared he wouldn’t answer. Finally, he looked away. “I have to lose the person I love above all others.”
Lose the one he loves?He’d not loved in ten years? Definitely a sore subject based on the sadness pouring off of the man.
Time for a change of subject. “So, where do we go next?”
Slade tossed a handful of sticks into the fire. “I’m not sure. I’m hoping to hear from Judith soon. Get an idea of where we might find more of your kind.”
After years of longing, why did the thought of finding a pack leave Noah with a heavy heart?
Chapter Seventeen
Twospecies,humanandwerewolf, so different, yet Slade felt a kinship. How many times had he been lonely while standing in a crowded room? Even Moose and Badger didn’t share much in common besides bikes, beers, and babes, in Moose’s case, men in Slade’s, and either in Badger’s, though the finding religion thing might’ve changed his outlook.
What were Slade’s old friends doing now? He’d not heard from either in some time and didn’t miss them, truth be told, though he missed Chuck something fierce. A wife and child took more of Chuck’s time, leaving a big empty hole where Slade’s closest brother used to be.
Here he sat beside a werewolf, sipping beer around a firepit. Owls hooted in the distance, harmonizing with the crackling of the flames. For one moment in time, he’d no desire to do anything else, be anywhere else; no responsibilities pulled at him. Instead, Slade recognized the strange sense of peace: contentment. No need to talk, no need to plan, no need to think, merely enjoy the company of the man beside him.
