I could have sworn I'd seen everything. Coyote as my father. Growing up with the Marrock [think King of the Werewolves, head of all the alphas] as basically my father (that poor fucker), Fae on my ass every six weeks, vampires trying to ruin my life, old spirits wrecking my weekends.
But nope.
Coming home to see turkey bones laid out on a table being reassembled with sinew is now ranking on the top five "what the fuck did I just walk in on moments" in my life. Thanks, Jaime. Living with a Necromancer is never boring.
I'm afraid to even ask. But I'm as curious as my Father. Thanksgiving is going to be interesting, isn't it?