“Please come in,” Fiji said abruptly. “We don’t need to be standing out in the heat.”

They all trooped inside, and she sat them down in her cool kitchen. Mr. Snuggly retired to a basket in the corner, where he could keep an eye on Quinn. Fiji offered them beverages, and both the men took glasses of iced tea. She put a plate of raisin bread on the table, with a knife and some butter and napkins. Though Joe felt he shouldn’t, he cut a slice and slathered it with butter and ate it slowly. So much for my run, he thought, before making himself concentrate on Quinn.

“So, Diederik,” Fiji said. And waited.

“The Rev has offered to keep him here for a few months while Diederik gets his balance emotionally,” Quinn said. “You can imagine how scary it is to go from being a little kid to being a teen in a very short time. It’s hard enough, my friends tell me, to do it in human time. It’s a dangerous time for Diederik. I’ll come in every chance I get.”

“That’s the best you can do,” Fiji said.

Joe nodded in agreement. Though he himself could not remember being a teenager, he was sure it must have been hard. He had only to think of the two teens who’d recently lived in Midnight to confirm that.

“And after that?” Joe said.

“This is a community that’s not afraid to jump in and speak its mind,” Quinn said, one corner of his mouth quirking up. “I guess I deserve that. I blew one of the biggest moment’s in my son’s life when I tried to take on one more job.”

“And your mysterious job, the one that keeps you traveling so much, is?” Joe found himself curious.

“I’m an event planner for the supernatural community. I do vampire weddings and coming-of-age parties for were-animals . . . the ones who can predict more closely than tigers! Leadership struggles of one kind or another. And so on. Since the supernaturals are such a small percentage of the population and so scattered, that involves a lot of travel. I was hoping to put enough in the bank to retire after this year. At least I can afford to take some time off until I can figure out what to do next.”

Fiji said, “So, now that Diederik’s had his first change, it’ll be monthly from now on?” She had cut a piece of bread for herself, and she was taking a bite every now and then. She rose to pour herself a cup of coffee and to refill the men’s glasses.

“Yes,” Quinn said. “Though illness and environment can change that with tigers, that’s the ideal pattern.”

“And ranchers would lose a cow a month? That’s kind of hard for some people, don’t you think?” Joe was picturing the ranchers who came into Home Cookin, men and women who lived on a very narrow financial margin.

“Sometimes the Rev needs to hunt,” Quinn said. “We all do. Sometimes the instinct gets so strong you just have to. But mostly, he buys a cow and stakes it out in the open land just north or just south of town overnight.”

Until he can jump on it and kill it and eat it, Joe thought. He could see that a hunt would be far more satisfying and natural than stalking a bought-and-paid-for domestic animal, furthermore one that was stationary.

He remembered, thousands of years ago, fighting. The feral thrill of finding his opponent, the flash of the bright sword. But memories only brought bitterness, and he was out of the bitterness business. He shoved that cycle of emotion aside to return to Fiji’s kitchen, lit with sunlight and clean surfaces and good smells.

“You’re the father, and I’ve never had a child,” Joe said. “But surely the boy would be better off with you, instead of here. If, as you say, you’re going to retire soon, can’t his education wait until then?”

It was lucky that he’d put the question with so much gentleness. Joe saw that Quinn’s face tightened and so did his shoulders, the signs of an irritated man.

“I’m sure you don’t know this,” said Quinn with equally good manners, “but a young weretiger is prized for his fighting ability. When I was the boy’s age, I was in the pits, obliged to fight and kill, to clear a family debt.” Without warning, he pulled off his T-shirt and rose, turning to show them the scars crisscrossing his back. There were plenty on the front, too.

“Oh,” said Fiji, deeply distressed. “That’s horrible. I’m glad you survived it.”

The big man shrugged and put his shirt back on. “It’s done. But more than anything else, I don’t want the supes to start imagining Diederik as pit fodder, now that he’s got his growth.”

“They could get him away from you?” Joe said.

“If I were dead.”

“So for now he’ll stay here in Midnight,” Joe said.

“Yes. Maybe a few months, maybe a year will see him strong enough, past the dangerous part. If he can make a name for himself doing something else, it won’t be easy to abduct him, force him. He will find a job he can do.”

Joe and Fiji looked at each other. “With the Rev?” she said finally. “You’ve been in the Rev’s house?”

“Yes,” Quinn said steadily. “I’ve seen it’s barren. I was going to ask if there was somewhere else he could stay, though the Rev would be responsible for educating Diederik in the ways of the tiger and instructing him in our history. Of course, I would pay his room and board and other expenses. I understand that you . . . Fiji . . . have been buying him clothes, and I want to pay you back for that. I thank you for your generosity.”