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“Does that make sense to you?” she said in a scornful tone.
“Well, you’ve nothing to worry about. I’m not a werewolf, so their rules don’t apply to me anyway. Neither is Perdita. I barely see werewolves all day when I’m there, and I’ll be back at school tomorrow, where, guess what, werewolves go, so all of this is meaningless anyway.”
“I forgot some of them go to school,” she admitted.
“And they’ve never torn anyone apart.” I looked at her and sighed. “Mam, I feel better around them, safer, stronger. They’re warm and full of life. Wouldn’t you rather that than the death I usually hang around with?”
“That was low,” she scoffed. “Are you actually trying to manipulate me right now?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about. Anyway, we promised Dad and Byron that we’d let the pack keep an eye on me, so I’m going to keep going over there.”
“You just miss Dorian.” Frowning, she raised the volume on the radio as a report about local arson attacks finished. She shivered. “They make it sound so sinister. Make sure you take your pills on time.”
“Someone could get hurt.”
“Like you. You’re taking them, right? No faking?”
“I’m taking them,” I told her. “Is there really some crazy person running around starting fires?”
“Who knows? It could be kids playing around, making mistakes. It could be a coincidence. But they’re investigating all of the recent fires, so it’ll be even longer until the community centre gets sorted.”
She muttered about selfish people for the rest of the journey. I kept my mouth shut and wondered what Dorian would find on his travels. I missed my dad already, but I was excited for the answers they might uncover.
At home, we ate a meal in silence, both of us succumbing to our thoughts.
“I’ll get used to the werewolves,” Mam said at last. “They’re helping you, so that’s something I should be thankful for. They have a teacher and a doctor on their side, so I suppose I should be more understanding.”
I gazed at her for a moment, seeing new worry lines. “Are you worried about what Dad is going to find?” I asked tentatively. “Back at the orphanage?”
She bit on her lower lip, avoiding my gaze.
“Mam?”
She finally met my eyes. “Yes.”
“But why?”
She set down her fork. “I suppose I’m jealous of your birth mother. She gets to claim a connection with you without having to do any of the work. What if we find her, and you bond with her? What if you get close and curious and want to leave us? Those are the kind of thoughts that keep running through my head.”
“I would never.”
“I hate her,” she said. “I hate her for leaving you in that place, but at the same time, I could kneel at her feet and thank her because otherwise, you wouldn’t be in my life. I’m so thankful to this woman I despise that it makes my head spin.”
“Mam.” I wanted to cry.
“I look at you,” she inhaled sharply, “and I have no idea how she found it in her to leave you behind. At the same time, I’m so selfishly happy that she abandoned you so I could get to keep you. You’re the best thing that ever happened to us, but the more we dive into this strange new world, the weaker my hold on you is. I feel you slipping through my fingers, and I’m terrified. I can’t help it.”
“You could never lose me.” It was hard to speak past the lump in my throat, but the words needed to be said. “You’re my mother. Nobody else. No matter how weird my life gets, you’re at the centre of everything. You’re home. Nobody else can give me that.”
She reached for my hand and squeezed my fingers. As long as we were together, everything would be all right. I had to believe that.
I took a pill before bed, feeling like a traitor. First, I had watched out the window, waiting for a fire or smoke or a chill or anything. Nothing happened, so I obediently swallowed the pill and let the familiar numb feeling take over. Only it was worse now because I knew exactly what I was covering up.
That night I dreamt of my death, waking up with a fright hours before my alarm. Exhausted, I lay there, waiting, terrified I was missing something important, that somebody was dying while I lay in bed doing nothing.
At school the next morning, everyone seemed to be abuzz with news about the so-called arsonist.
“Is this really a thing now?” I asked Chloe.
