When I was a wolf, I wasn't completely white. More golden. Blond with blue eyes in both forms.
However, the resemblance was there
"The icon isn't mine," I repeated.
"Odd." Will continued to peer at the plastic and frown. "Talismans are representations of spirit guides.
Ojibwe folklore says that those of a particular clan are descended from that clan's animal."
I recalled the information from Jessie's report on the wolf god. According to Native American legend there were several totemic divisions: bear, eagle, moose, wolf, and so on. In the old days, each clan had a specialized task. While one governed, another made war. Members could not marry within their own clan - the ancestral link to the animal or bird made their blood too similar.
"In that case," Will continued, "I'd be descended from a wolf."
"No wonder Edward doesn't like you," I said.
"Didn't go over too well when he heard it, that's for sure."
"What happened?" I asked, though I had a pretty good idea.
Will tilted his head, and his golden earring swung free. "He shot me with silver."
"No ill effects?"
"I didn't explode."
Will rolled up the sleeve of his T-shirt. A bullet-shaped scar marred the smooth cinnamon skin of his upper arm.
"Sorry about that," I said.
"You didn't do it." He let the material fall back into place. "Besides, chicks dig scars, don't they?"
"You better hope not, unless you want a high body count when Jessie gets hold of them."
Will laughed. "She's something else."
"Yeah, but what?"
He considered me for a moment with a bemused expression. "You two are a lot alike."
"Me and Jessie? I don't think so."
I was like no one I'd ever encountered, but that was beside the point. Jessie and I were as different as day and night, new moon and full, human and werewolf.
I slanted the icon until the light caught the jeweled eyes and sparkled. "What's your opinion?"
"Not sure. Usually, totems are made of stone, bone, something of the earth."
"And this is plastic."
"Which would make me think it's nothing more than a child's toy, sold in tourist shops to folks from away.
There isn't an Ojibwe alive who would create a spiritual symbol from plastic."
"Except?"
His gaze lifted from the wolf to my face. "Except this appears to have been made to represent a specific wolf. You."
"Voodoo?"
"Voodoo is an amalgamation of ancient African tribal symbols and the Catholicism the slaves were baptized into upon their arrival. This totem, however weird, is Ojibwe. But the only time I've seen talismans that simulate something more specific than a generic clan animal is when they're shamanic."
"English, please."
"Shamans use talismans to aid them in assuming the form of their spirit animal. To do that, they often construct a totem to resemble themselves in some way: hair color, eyes, distinctive facial feature."
"I'm not a shaman."
"Technically, anyone with the right stuff can transform."
"The right stuff being... ?"
"Mystical connection to an animal."
"Got that," I said dryly.
"A shamanic totem."
I jiggled the wolf like a tiny martini shaker. "And?"
"A sacrifice to imbue the totem with power."
My hand froze mid-shake. "What kind of sacrifice?"
"Blood, death."
I thought of the flayed rabbit and muttered, "Hell."
Will's gaze shot to mine. "What?"
Quickly, I told him exactly where I'd found the icon, then I told him the rest. About the totem shifting, spilling silver light into my mind, and the instantaneous change.
"Bam, you're a wolf?" he asked.
"Pretty much. You think that's what's been happening in Fairhaven?"
He blinked, frowned, considered the tiny wolf again, then shook his head. "They'd have to fashion talismans that represent a particular person. Seems like too much hassle. And really, what's the rush?"