It felt like an enormous weight had been lifted off my chest and I was able to take a deep breath for the first time in a week. I let out a shaky laugh. “When did you get all wise and philosophical?”

Roland gave me a lopsided grin. “Hey, I’m not just all good looks you know.”

I fell back in the grass, giddy with relief. “I can’t believe how much I let this screw with my head.”

“Maybe next time you’ll come to us before you freak yourself out,” Roland chided. “Don’t ever be afraid to confide in us. No more secrets, okay?”

I didn’t answer him. My Mohiri lineage was only one of my many secrets. What would my friends think of me if they learned that I’d peddled troll bile on the black market? How would they react to my healing power or my friendship with Remy? And what would they say if they knew why I really went to the Attic that night?

We were interrupted by a cell phone ringing. “Oh crap!” Roland muttered reaching for his phone. “I forgot I was supposed to pick up Mom. She dropped her car off to get the brakes done.”

We hurried to his truck and headed back to town. The mood on the return trip was a lot lighter. Roland and Peter compared werewolves and Mohiri and they wondered if I’d be stronger or faster than them if I used my demon side. I told them to keep guessing because there was no way I was unleashing that thing.

Nate made beef stew for dinner and I could smell it simmering in the slow cooker as soon as I entered the apartment. I set the table then spent an hour doing homework before he came out of his office.

“Smells great,” I said as he popped some take-and-bake rolls into the oven.

He gave me a sideways look. “You seem to be in a better mood today.”

I grinned. “I am and I’m starving too.”

After dinner I cleaned the kitchen and finished my homework. I felt so light and happy that I sat down to draw for the first time in two weeks. I was almost done before I saw that I’d sketched Nikolas emerging from the shadows with sword drawn, his face hard and angry like an avenging angel. I stared at the face on the paper for a long moment, not sure why I drew him. He’d saved my life but he was also a reminder of everything that had gone wrong with my life lately. I closed the sketchbook and threw it on the desk. I didn’t want to ruin my good mood by thinking about Nikolas or any of that negative stuff tonight.

I opened my laptop to check email before I went to bed. There was one from Roland with a funny cartoon of a werewolf at the dentist that made me laugh. I was still smiling when I logged into my regular message board.

Five minutes later my smile dissipated along with my good humor. A new thread had been started earlier today. LOOKING FOR FOY? A cold knot started to form in my stomach as I read the dozens of replies in the thread. Most of the replies were jokes and snarky comments telling the poster that they had a better chance of winning the lottery than finding FOY. Some users dismissed it as a legend with no merit. No one seemed to take it seriously.

Except me.

FOY is the little known acronym used for troll bile. It stands for ‘fountain of youth’. No one mentioned New Hastings, me or Malloy but the posting gave me goose bumps. Someone was digging around.

Don’t panic. Even if there was something to it, there was nothing to trace it back to me. In any case, there was nothing I could do about it tonight. I opened a new email and send a quick message off to Malloy. He had just as much at stake as I did if someone was nosing around. And he had a lot more contacts than I did. He’d get to the bottom of it. I hoped.

I shut the laptop and rubbed my face. How my life had gotten so damn complicated so fast?

“If it’s not one thing, it’s something else,” I groaned, turning out the light.

Chapter 8

Gino’s was a small family-owned pizza place two blocks from school that used to be popular with the kids before they rebuilt the food court and added a cinema at the mall. Now most of its customers were young couples and small families. Papa Gino, as everyone called him, made the sauce and crust himself and this place was practically an institution in town. You couldn’t pay me to give up Gino’s for any of the large pizza chains.

I ate my slice of pepperoni pizza and watched the door from my booth. After five more minutes, I glanced at my watch. Is that man ever on time?

A minute later, the door opened and Malloy slunk in. He went to the counter and bought a slice of pizza and a beer before dropping into the seat across from me.

“Hello, kid.”

“Malloy.”

He took a swig of beer. “Ah, that’s good after a busy day.” Then he picked up his slice of pizza and bit into it.

I tapped a finger on the table. “Busy getting to bottom of certain things I hope.”

He sighed and laid down his pizza. “You won’t even let a man have a bite, will you?” he complained, wiping his mouth with a paper napkin. “For your information, I’ve been on this ever since I got your email. You’re not the only one with something to lose here.”

It was good to know he was taking this seriously. “So do we have anything to worry about?”

Malloy shook his head. “Don’t think so. I got an acquaintance – a computer guy – who did some tracking or tracing or whatever he called it on that account that posted the message. He says it came from a high school in New Jersey and he thinks it’s just a kid messing around.”

I let out the breath I was holding. “You’re sure?”