Lone Werewolf Duology (bxb)

18. What Doesn't Kill You

Two sets of eyes fastened to his emerging torso with equal interest: June's and Liam's. The motivations were entirely different, however. Liam's was written plainly on his face and sent a radiating pulse of warmth through Volya. He hurriedly pulled the shirt higher, to hide away his reddening cheeks.

June's scrutiny was more of a mystery. "Silver? Is this silver?" she asked.

Volya hoped he didn't get a silver belly button overnight to go with golden eyes. That would be totally over the top. He redoubled his efforts to wriggle out of the t-shirt. The new wardrobe he found in his closet was newer, pricier and more figure-fitting than anything he'd worn before. But it also stretched like a dream, instead of going drab and shapeless two to three owners before it got to Volya. He started digging the rad idea of wearing new things; heck, a few more days, and he'd take Liam up on his offer to go shopping...

"What's silver?" Volya asked through the cotton of his t-shirt. It muffled his voice a bit, but he said it in English, and he thought it was clear enough.

The moment he freed himself from the t-shirt completely, June's finger stabbed under his clavicle, answering his question. She was pointing at his cross. He was so used to wearing it, that he pretty much forgot it was hanging there. Instinctively he snatched the cross in his fist, away from her.

"Yes, June, that's correct." He tried to imitate Sangha's dulcet tones. "It's silver. They're normally silver..."

"Take it off. You must take it off," the woman repeated non-stop, her eyes fastened to his fist. He felt like he was squeezing a grenade with its pin removed. The cross' rounded trefoil sides pressed painfully into his palm, he was clutching it so tight, suddenly feeling protective of it.

Sangha scooted over from one of the workstations in the back to insert herself between him and June. "Metal won't interfere with the preliminary assessment, right? It's better if he is calm when we calibrate the equipment, or we'll get false positives."

"I am calm," Volya lied through his teeth. He didn't like being talked about in third person. It made him more like a lab rat and less like a hero.

"It's imperative that he takes silver off before he interfaces with Mnemosyne," June repeated, slower this time.

"He will take it off before he links to Mnemosyne, darling," Sangha assured, darting an imploring glance at Volya.

"I will." He sighed, willing his fingers to relax their grip on the cross. "I promise."

He didn't know why he got like that about the cross. He'd never been a spiritual man, and the cross was a cheap piece of junk; not even pretty. Some charitable hand hung it over his neck before the dawn of his first memories. It was supposed to ward off evil, but everyone in his class had one just like that, even the Bruiser. There was little love or care in that gesture. But he had the silver cross for years; he was used to it, he supposed.

Liam glanced at him with a pained expression. God only knows what he was thinking, probably that he was subjecting Volya to another indignity. Volya grinned with one side of his mouth to show that this one was okay, this one was on him, but he didn't get a chance to put a single word in.

June flipped a sheet on her clipboard, ordering him to sit back in his chair with a tilt of her head. "There. Please sit there."

"Gee, what's the rush? Give me a second, okay?"

His hands shook with a sudden decision. He yanked the cross off without unfastening the lock. The slim silver chain tightened against his neck, then caught in his hair for one embarrassing moment. He knew he wasn't as nimble as Liam or Toshka, but come on. He wasn't a clutz either. He tugged impatiently, freeing the cross. What's a few hairs? It'll grow back.