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“Let us begin,” Agatha says before striding over to the panel on the wall and placing her hand on it. As soon as she does that, the wolves inside the cell all change back to their human form. It’s almost like her internal clock was so in tune with time that she could predict the exact second the Dawn wolves would transform.
“I don’t suppose you have something we can put on?” Boris asks Agatha, covering his private parts with his hands as best he can.
“Of course.” Agatha walks over to the opposite wall and presses on a panel to pop it open. Inside are white folded robes, much like the one she’s wearing.
Once everyone is dressed, Simon addresses Agatha while holding Tripp in his arms.
“Why did you hold us prisoner here?” he demands. “Don’t you know who I am?”
“Yes.” Agatha doesn’t say any more. She directs her gaze to Tripp. “Hello, Tripp. I wondered if you would make it here.”
Simon tucks Tripp closer to his side. “What do you mean by that?”
“You are looking for a cure to help the wolf pups in your city who cannot change into their human forms, correct?”
“Yes,” Simon says hesitantly, “but what does that have to do with Tripp?”
“He can solve all your problems. His blood is the cure you’ve been searching for.”
Simon scoffs. “If his blood is the cure, why isn’t he cured himself?”
“Hmm.” Agatha thinks about this question for a moment before answering. “Think of your son as a cauldron that the cure was cooked in. You add in ingredients to the cauldron but the cauldron itself doesn’t feel the effects of the brew. That’s the way it is with your son.”
“What ingredients?” Margaret asks with keen interest.
Agatha turns to her. “Tripp’s blood and that of Vamir were mixed together when the boy was born.”
“That’s nonsense.” Simon’s anger is causing his face to turn red. “You’re just making up stories now to fool us.”
Expressionless, Agatha looks at Simon. “I do not lie.”
“If Tripp is the cure,” Boris says to Simon, “we can save the other wolf pups who can’t transform. We’ve found exactly what we came here for.”
“She’s lying, Boris.” Simon points an accusatory finger at Agatha. “Can’t you see that? There’s no way Tripp’s blood was ever mixed with Vamir’s unless . . .Did my wife have an affair with that fae?”
“No.” Agatha doesn’t even hesitate in her answer. “She went to him and begged him to give her a vial of his blood. She heard a rumor that Boris was once healed with Vamir’s blood and thought it might be able to heal Tripp. She was wrong of course, but in the mixing of blood, a cure was created.”
“I think she’s telling the truth,” I say to Simon.
“How can you be certain?” he asks.
“Tripp jumped into my arms once,” I say, remembering back to that moment right after Damon kidnapped me. “My touch didn’t kill him.”
“Wait just a minute,” Boris says, holding up his hand to prevent anyone else from speaking. “When did Vamir save my life? When was I injected with his blood?”
“It was the night you tried to steal the circlet,” I tell him, having already heard this story from Vamir’s side of things. “When you were injured, the only way to save your life was Vamir’s blood. Apparently, it can heal some human wounds. That’s why you’ve always been able to touch me.”
Boris looks down as he thinks back to that night so long ago in the Dawn castle.
He meets my gaze. “Are you sure?”
“Yes. He told me the story the other day.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“There wasn’t a good time.”
Everyone falls silent until Simon asks the next question.
