“I didn’t start this curse, Father. But I will end it.”
“You mean she will.” He shakes his head. “I will be left with no sons when this foolishness is over, and life will take me and my daughter too. This is how the curse will end. With the end of our bloodline.”
“And on that cheerful note, Father, I have a curse to break.”
CHAPTER 11
Thorn
We watch the car drive away, and for a long moment, neither one of us can fucking believe it.
“Did she…”
“He was driving,” Krall says.
We’ve been betrayed over a plate of bacon and eggs. I take another bite, then I wonder if I should have done that. She has, of course, already been stolen.
“We need to get after her. Now.”
“What are we going to do? Are we going to steal a car and chase after them?”
Krall’s fist hits the table, making the dishes jiggle, and other people in the diner look at us with complete confusion. We have got to stop freaking out the locals. We’ve been freaking people out everywhere we’ve been.
“Sorry,” I say to everybody and nobody in particular as Krall storms out. “Lover’s tiff.”
People understand that, even though I’ve explained nothing. I make sure the meal is paid for and follow him out to the parking lot, where he is in tense negotiations with a family of four.
“I’ll buy your car,” he’s saying. “But I need it now. This instant.”
While Krall negotiates with the man of the family, two small boys are staring at the pair of us with absolute fascination. I’m pretty sure kids know that we’re shifters. Adults aren’t as perceptive.
“Mummy, why does that man have such long hair?” The kid is probably around eight, and has his hat on backward. He has a smaller brother who is holding a plastic sword.
“Because he grew it long, darling,” his mother says patiently.
“Can I grow my hair long too?”
“No, you have to cut yours for school.”
“How long would it take me to grow my hair that long?”
“Oh, years,” his mother says. “Hair grows an inch every few months.”
“I might not even want long hair then.”
“No, darling, probably not.”
“Fine,” the father says. “But we’ll need a minute to get all our things…”
Krall has already snatched the keys from the man and is hurling toys out of the back of a suburban vehicle. Kids rush to catchthem, the woman looks thoroughly annoyed about this turn of events, and the man is busy biting a gold nugget over and over while saying, “We’ll go on a longer holiday next year.”
“You drive,” Krall says, throwing the keys at me. “I’m too angry.”
I take the wheel, glad for the opportunity. I’m a much better and faster driver than the old man. Krall gets in. His seat has a fluffy pink headrest on it. He doesn’t notice. That means he’s truly furious.
“I can’t believe he has done this.” Krall is angrier than I have ever seen him. “Taken her home to try to break that fucking…”
“What’s he done?”
