Her father pressed a clean white cloth to her face. She would have a scar matching his and her brother's. She was a were, which meant she’d heal quickly and that the scar would be slight. Only wounds inflicted by silver or those from another were would leave telling marks behind. If her father’s scar was any indication, no one would be able to see it unless they knew where to look by the time she was his age. Her brother’s scar was still noticeable, although not glaringly so, but it too was fading with time.
Her father told her to lie down. She heard him open the door and felt the circulation of fresh air as it carried out the cloying smell of the incense. He was rattling around, gathering up bottles of salves and unguents that would help the healing process. Laila didn’t care about the cut; she was more interested in this new feeling. It was still there, quiet now, having subsided back into the recesses of her head since there wasn’t anything to feed its bloody desires.
She wondered briefly if this is what being consecrated to Anubis meant. Did this feeling mean the ritual worked? Or was this one of the by-products of being a werejackal? She hadn’t smelled blood since her first change, so maybe this was some kind of were response? Everything was still so new. She’d known she came from a family of werejackals and the odds were good that she would be one too, but knowing and knowing were vastly different, as she was finding out.
Her father returned, cool hands removing the cloth from her face. As he worked at the cut, she thought about asking her father about this new feeling. She knew she could talk to him about anything, but this she felt hesitant about and she couldn’t explain why. It wasn’t like he could look at her like she was a freak--she was exactly like him and Mebis. At the thought of her brother, Laila had her answer. She’d talk to Mebis about it when he got home. He’d know and would be straight up with her. He always was.
Acknowledgements
Books don’t just happen in a vacuum; there are lots of people that help shepherd it along the way. First, a huge thanks to Melissa Marr, for taking a look at it and assuring me that it didn’t suck. To Tracey--a ginormous thank you for your inventive and hilarious book notes. Beta Reader, Nan, thank you for your encouragement and for always asking me to write more, more, more.
Tom Markart (DB), thanks for an awesome website. To Keri, for being awesome. To Kerryo, the images of my raven rock and will make an excellent next tattoo. To Dimitri Williams at Dimitri Williams Photography—the photos are beautiful, as are you.
My family: Mom, the original WK, an everlasting thank you for putting up with my psychotic type A leanings. My daughter, thanks for letting Mommy work the long night hours to write three books in nine months. You are the reason I do everything. To Dad-- and you wanted me to get a degree in accounting. And Richard, you will always be the other side to my coin. I love you all.
About the Author
Jeanette Battista graduated with an English degree with a concentration in medieval literature which explains her possibly unhealthy fixation on edged weapons and cathedral architecture. She spent a summer in England and Scotland studying the historical King Arthur, which did nothing to curb her obsession. To satisfy her adrenaline cravings--since sword fighting is not widely accepted in these modern times--she rode a motorcycle at ridiculously high speeds, got some tattoos, and took kickboxing and boxing classes. She gave up the bike when her daughter came along, although she still gets pummeled at the gym on a regular basis.
When she’s not writing or working, Jeanette spends time with family, hikes, reads, makes decadent brownies, buys killer boots, and plays Pocket Frogs. She wishes there were more hours in the day so she could actually do more of these things. She lives with her daughter and their ancient, ill-tempered cat in North Carolina.
You can read more about her and her books at http://www.jeanettebattista.com
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Jackal Moon Preview
Acknowledgements
About the Author