It just keeps getting worse....

Fine, I get Mama to rest a few days, and she sets up a containment circle for neophyte epmaths in the Folly garden. At least this time she did it with the notes I left, and it isn't draining her to leave it up.

Beck's been missing for too long, and not in any of the usual spots he goes to pollute himself as part of his self-medication. I didn't get a link on him, my fault - I didn't think he'd go that far on walkabout. I'll tag him when we find him again, with or without his permission. Need to get with that jeweler and find out what we can trace, if we can manage a shield that will let her sense him without getting out of control.

Control - I haven't been keeping my shape well, if the reactions from Mama's assistant are any gauge. I thought I had managed to stay unnoticeable, but either I have cracks in the glamorie, or she's seen too many of what she calls "uncanny" acts. I don't know, maybe it's just because she knows me now. I'm tired enough it could be I am just forgetting to check it.

Father has his hands full of zombies again. I swear, they ought to just have inoculations every equinox, considering how often that comes up again. Except for that librarian, and the ones Father is able to treat, zombies are a bloody nuisance, literally. There's a weird thought... the librarian zombie seems to have the best social skills, I ought to see if it is the knowledge, instead of brains, that they need.

Back to Steelhead, flying on too little sleep, I go to ground before Xavael starts to patrol. Even with the bloodline trace, it's hard to believe the link to the Founder. Still gives me the shakes remembering the emergence.

Wolfgang is usually on watch when I get in. He wrinkles his nose at me when I collapse on the davenport without taking off my armor. Sorry to be such a slob, but I don't think anybody's going to sleep without some sort of weapon in hand. Papa was half-dozing in the armchair, last time I was there, and he had switched back to his old patrol leathers. The 'kin haven't had any leave time lately, but the hunt has caught their attentions.

Still, this can't go on much longer. I need sleep.

Can't A Girl Get Any Sleep?

Wolfgang finally transformed last night, no doubts about that. Vater was properly publicly offended that the sheriff had hidden the tribe past the marker oak. Hey, for all I know, he could have been actually surprised, since he doesn't have time to read all of the reports. My reports are mostly low priority, since I am not officially attached to the office, and all I had seen was a village in a pocket valley, with no signs of martial organization beyond hunting parties.

After Anya calmed him down, Wolfie was a little disoriented, and understandably upset by the transformation. He was mostly worried about what he had done, and Sheriff Ortega confirmed he was not in trouble, just that he had to learn control. To do that, they would be leaving at daybreak. Mama started organizing the staff at the dance, handing out assignments as she walked with her arm around Wolfie, getting back to the Consulate building. I checked Wolfie over and he had no strains or cuts from his escape. Some of it was that he was limber and possessed of the Trickster's own luck, but some of it was rapidly healed.

Papa was upset we don't have something strong enough to contain a teenage werewolf, but he shrugged and hid it from the rest of the group. I might have to arrange for him and Uncle Gus to talk about security cells later. I only know medical restraints, and I don't think anything I have at hand would be able to keep up with Wolfie's metabolism. He is off chicken for a bit, I think, but was able to eat a respectable amount of bauernfruhstuck with a side of sticky buns for the first time in a while. Good thing Bunică came by to help Mrs Parks with the kitchen duties in the small hours of the morning, what with trying to feed and provision everyone to be ready by daybreak.

Bunică managed to save a dozen sticky buns to send to Anya for helping out. Interesting that all she had to say was "They are for Anya" and Wolfie left them alone. He even added a bowl of whortleberries to the basket before he left to pack. His first reflex to pack for a scientific field trip was deflected by Papa turning out his pack, and taking out half the empty sampling vials, replacing weight-for-weight with field rations and the trail kit. Wolfie added the slingshot and the shepherd's sling on his own.

I headed back to the lab again and slept. It's gotten to the point I sleep better with the hum of Father's machinery in the background. No word back from him, but with the aetheric transmitter, we don't always match times anymore - but at least I get to talk to him and my sibs occasionally. I drifted off organizing my next report for him.

I woke briefly when Manager Lunar came in. There's another kettle of trouble, but even as a teen-aged human, he knows which things to leave alone. It was safe enough for me to doze off again until I heard the clatter of someone unused to the stairs past the decontamination field across the door. The newcomer who is not Zaide was downstairs. I moved silently to the edge of the sleeping loft to watch and listen.

The offhand way the Manager rattled off decades of the Foundation history rankled a bit, but seen from the outside, by a human in hormonal fluctuation, it was mostly accurate. Just leaving out huge chunks of boring incidentals that made the family history. My family history. I waited and watched the newcomer as Lunar left.