"Little girl, none of this is your fault. You need to stop thinking about that." Griffin's fingers touched my cheek. His hands were so warm against my skin. I'd felt cold—very, very cold—for the past five weeks. Griffin's talent for reading my thoughts hadn't diminished or gone away, either. Normally, that would arouse my curiosity and I might turn my attention to discovering how he did that. Not now.
"We're going to fix that," Griffin smiled gently as light formed around the fingers touching my cheek.
* * *
"Franklin and Greg are coming; I've made arrangements for Greg to receive his chemotherapy treatments at a nearby clinic," Merrill informed me. Griffin had done something and hadn't tried to hide it from me, either. He explained carefully that he couldn't bear to watch me waste away when there wasn't any need for it. I felt better and I didn't know whether I wanted to thank Griffin or curse him for that. Merrill handed a bag of blood to me afterward and they'd both watched me drink. Griffin never blinked as I consumed my normal two-thirds of a pint. He left shortly afterward and Merrill wrote a note for Lena, asking her to pick up an electric mattress pad for me in London the following week. Griffin knew I felt cold and passed that information to Merrill.
"Lissa, sweetheart, Charles will come tomorrow evening and drive you into London so you can get your hair done," Merrill touched fingers lightly to my strawberry blonde curls. If my hair is shorter, it curls. It only straightens out if I keep it longer and it had been long—past my shoulders long—before I'd attempted to kill myself in the sun last February.
"That sounds like so much fun for him," I grumped. There wasn't any way, though, that Merrill or any of the others would let me out of their sight without an escort.
"He finds it quite enjoyable; he has asked every other day if he could take you for an outing."
"Poor Charles. He needs to get a life," I said.
"Have you ever wanted a brother, sweetheart? Charles wants that role, I think." I blinked up at Merrill as he spoke those words.
"Really?" I'd never had anything like that. My face fell immediately. A brother was someone who would keep your secrets. I would never have that luxury with Charles.
"Lissa, most things you could tell Charles. He does not carry everything he hears directly to Wlodek, you know. Charles has an insatiable curiosity, but he also knows how to keep secrets."
He knew I wouldn't consider confiding in Charles from my expression. "My poor baby." Merrill gently touched my cheek. "Franklin and Greg will arrive on Wednesday. When you go to London, please purchase welcoming gifts from both of us." Merrill smiled and removed his hand. I still had my ID and credit card, plus a little cash, but Merrill had my cell phone and laptop again. I realized he didn't want any communication between Tony and me. Well, I didn't want any communication between Tony and me. What I did want, however, was communication with the Grand Master, Weldon Harper. I wanted to check in with him, thank him again for getting Paul the werewolf policeman to help with the child kidnapping case and see how his grandchild was doing. Daryl Harper, Jr. was cute as a button.
I also needed to contact my Packmaster, Thomas Williams, in Sacramento just to let him know I was still around. Merrill must have been on my wavelength, just as Griffin had been. "Buy yourself a new cell phone and computer, Lissa. Charles can help you with those things. He's technologically inclined."
I nodded. Merrill and I were in the kitchen; that seemed to be the best place to have conversations for some reason. He and I were the only ones in the house—Lena had already left before I'd gotten out of bed for the evening. She was still doing housekeeping chores, but since Franklin had been out of the country, she didn't eat dinner at Merrill's manor. Lena went home instead to her family in a nearby town, between Luddesdown and London. The drive to London nearly every day had gotten to be too much so a move was made at Merrill's suggestion.
"May I borrow your computer?" I asked. I wanted to go online and get some shopping ideas for Greg and Franklin.
"As long as you don't attempt to contact Mr. Hancock." That brought a loud and indignant gasp from me. "I should know better," Merrill said and smiled.
* * *
I still had the gift cards to the bookstore that I'd gotten for Greg and Franklin. I hadn't had an opportunity to give them away and Charles and I were now browsing through an electronics store for a new cell phone and computer after I'd gotten my haircut. The stylist had trimmed and shaped; consequently, my hair looked much better. Charles and I were currently examining laptops; Charles was completely happy doing this, I could tell. He and the sales geek were having an intense conversation over things that sailed right past me regarding the laptops on display.
"You'll like this one," Charles pointed out the laptop he'd been discussing with the sales kid—he looked like a kid to me, anyway. The laptop wasn't huge, was another Mac, (that was my stipulation) and cost around three thousand pounds. In my human life that would have been out of the question. Now, money just flew out of my hand, or Merrill's bank account, as it were. The cell phone was next; it was a replacement iPhone, and then we bought several computer games and a tablet that either Greg or Franklin could hold in their hands or set on the kitchen counter and play games and check email. I also bought a program for Franklin's laptop that would keep recipes on file and categorized so he could get to them easily, plus a shopping list option where Frank could put his grocery lists. I hoped he liked it.
Charles picked out a word processing program and a couple other things for my computer; we got the cell phone set up and the clerk got my new programs loaded into the laptop before we ever left the store. That was nice. Charles and I went to a bar for our usual glass of wine afterward and Charles called Bryan Riley on the way, asking if he wanted to meet us. Bryan walked into the bar shortly after Charles and I arrived.
"Bryan!" I was both surprised and pleased to see him. He took a chance and gave me a hug, then sat down next to me in the booth.
"I heard something, Charles, as I was leaving the studio tonight," Bryan said, before turning to tell the waitress what he wanted.
"What's that?" Charles ran a finger around the rim of his wineglass.
"It should hit the news tomorrow, but all the manufacturers of the flu vaccine are destroying what they've made up this year and are being forced to start over at the last minute. This will create a panic, as you might imagine. In addition to that, we couldn't get a verifiable reason for the vaccine dump from our sources. We have feelers out for estimated deaths due to a vaccine shortage."