The creature stood there smiling with my face but not my face, using my voice like it had borrowed it from a*****e shelf. Every hair on my body stood up. My wolf slammed against my ribs, snarling.
Then it spoke again. My exact tone. My exact rhythm. Even the slight irritation I used when someone touched my fries.
“Return.”
I snapped instantly. “No. Absolutely not. My voice is copyrighted. Stop that.”
Gamma Hale’s head whipped toward me, probably wondering if sarcasm was really where I wanted to go while the undead wolf choir tried to recruit me. It was absolutely where I wanted to go. If I stopped joking, I would start screaming.
The mimic tilted its head. Not like a person. Not like a wolf. More like someone had yanked invisible strings and the body had to follow. A glitch. A jerk. T
