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Stupid soul being tied to the wrong damn thing.

She was a dryad, for goddess’ sake! None of this made any sense anyway. IF (a very big if) this sickness had something to do with being separated from Theo, then how had she survived (just fine, thank you very much) without him on and off through the years? And why had she never felt this terrible before when they’d been apart?

She rolled over with a groan. A splitting headache had started between her eyes.

Sure, if she was being honest (which she was perfectly capable of doing, despite what Theo seemed to think) she had always felt a … pull to return to him in the past. But she had chalked it up to just plain old missing the bastard.

And if she was being even more honest (which she was only doing because she was near death, and it seemed important to be honest when you were dying) something big had shifted in their relationship during their ill-fated road trip. Physically and emotionally, she’d never felt closer to Theo in the entire decade of their friendship.

Something huge had happened between them.

And look at her now.

Did Theo feel this shitty? Or was she the only one suffering? She wouldn’t know. She’d shut down any suggestions of sending someone to get Theo. If he wanted to be here, if he wanted her, then he’d come. Simple as that.

A knock on her front door kicked the chatter out in her kitchen into high gear. She let the women out there answer it, not that she had any strength to get up, anyway. She hated herself for holding her breath, straining her hearing for the voice she missed more than any other.

But it wasn’t that voice rising over the others. It was her mother.

“I’m just going to check on her.” Runa breezed into her bedroom smelling somehow of wildflowers and honey even in winter, the beaded anklets she wore jingling as she walked.

“Fifi,” she sighed, perching on the edge of the bed, careful to avoid the vomit bucket. She put a hand on Fee’s forehead in that universal mom way; not that nymphs typically got fevers, even when they were young, but the gesture still felt familiar, protective. “What is it, my love?”

Fee groaned. “I don’t know.”

Runa frowned, her gaze flitting around the room, taking in the various tonics and tinctures the nymphs had tried on Fee over the past few days. Everything that had failed to heal her.

“Where’s the wolf?” Runa asked, surprising Fee. Why would her mother care if Theo was here or not? She figured the woman would be happy to not have to deal with him.

“Gone.”

Her mother narrowed her eyes, disappointed as usual in Fee’s choice of a companion. Not that she had anything to worry about anymore.

“Mom, I really can’t handle a lecture about Theo right now. Please.”

“Of course not.” She brushed the hair from Phoebe’s forehead, her fingers cool against Fee’s hot skin. “It’s just that … well…” Runa bit down on her bottom lip, refusing to meet Fee’s eye.

Phoebe waited for her mother to get on with it or leave, finding she had lost the energy to say much of anything.

Runa’s gaze swept back to her daughter, a crease of worry (very uncharacteristic of her) lingering between her brows. Fee must really look like shit. “I suppose it’s time to tell you.”

“Tell me what?”

“About your father.”

Fee felt this was actually the worst time to tell her about her father. She didn’t give a shit about her father. She hadn’t for years. For her whole life, in fact. She certainly had no interest in hearing one of her mother’s tales now.

“You see, he wasn’t quite as human as I may have led you to believe.”

If there was one little tidbit of gossip that could keep Fee from the brink of death, this was it.

“What do you mean, not human?”

“Uh, well…” Runa twirled a long blonde strand of hair around her finger. “He was a bit of a werewolf.”

Phoebe choked on her own spit, coughing and gagging until her mother had to prop her up and smack her hard on the back. Which actually did nothing helpful.

“What do you mean a werewolf?” Fee rasped when she finally caught her breath.