Page 77
hands and a pair of heavy-duty cutters. He pulled a large iron nail from the can and some wire, and proceeded to cut a two-inch strip from the can. I watched him bend the nail into a gentle zigzag. He folded the metal strip into a roll like it was clay and pinched it onto the nail.
It’s good to be a werewolf.
“You got a copy of the Almanac around here?”
Derek got up and brought meThe Almanac of Mystical Creatures . “Thanks.”
I thumbed through it while helping myself to some bacon. No Bolgor the Shepherd. No mention of the reeves. I scanned the entry about Morrigan. No mention of the bowman. Of course, if there was, I probably would’ve known it—I had read the Almanac from cover to cover several times. It rarely got all the details right, but it was a good general guide to things magically delicious.
Shortly after I started on my second plate, Julie appeared and sat sullenly by my side.
Derek added more strips to the nail, clamping them tight, and bound them with wire.
“Derek, if a boy wanted to take away a girl’s power by having sex with her, what would you think about it?”
“I’d break something. His leg. Maybe his arm.” He squeezed the wire tighter. “Probably wouldn’t kill him unless he wanted to make an issue of it.”
“What if the girl wanted to give her powers to the boy?” I asked.
“Then I’d think it would be a pretty stupid thing to do.” He shrugged. “Can it be done?”
“No.”
“Good for the girl. She might get smarter and find a different boy.” He released his hold and handed Julie a metal rose. “For you. Kate, if you’re done with your plate, Curran wants to see you. He’s up on the roof.”
I followed him to the staircase and climbed up onto the third floor, where a small foldout ladder led to the square piece of the sky. I conquered the ladder and emerged onto the flat roof of the building.
The roof was filled with assorted free weights. Curran lay on a massive weight bench with a reinforced steel frame. He was working the bench press, raising a bar loaded with weights above him and bringing it back to his chest in a slow controlled movement. He didn’t cheat by letting the bar “bounce” off his chest.
I came closer. The bar was thicker than my wrist. Had to be custom made. I tried to count the weight disks on the bar. A normal bar weighed forty-five pounds, and normal disks weighed up to forty-five pounds, also. But these didn’t look normal.
I stood to the side and watched the bar rise and fall. Curran wore an old, torn T-shirt, and I could see his muscles pump under the fabric.
“How much are you lifting?”