Herbal Remedies for the Growly Hearts (Monsters in Uniform Romance #5)

Chapter 1

Coexistence with Governing Law

The Pack recognizes and operates within the framework of applicable federal, state, and local laws. Nothing herein shall be interpreted as a general exemption from such laws.

Jurisdiction Over Internal Matters

The Pack retains primary jurisdiction over matters concerning its internal governance, including membership, conduct, discipline, rank, and disputes between members.

Such matters shall be resolved under Pack law.

Concurrent Authority

Where conduct violates both external law and Pack law, jurisdiction shall be considered concurrent. In such cases, the Pack reserves the right to address the matter internally prior to or alongside external proceedings, as determined by the Alpha.

Alpha Final Authority

The Alpha shall serve as the final authority in all matters arising under Pack law, including determinations of jurisdiction, conflict, and enforcement. All rulings issued under Alpha authority shall be binding upon Pack members.

Duty of Lawful Conduct

Members shall make good faith efforts to comply with applicable external laws in all public-facing conduct. Violation of such laws may also constitute a violation of Pack law where it exposes or endangers the Pack.

Internal Resolution Preference

The Pack shall prioritize internal resolution of disputes and violations wherever feasible, particularly where such matters can be contained without external involvement.

MYSTIC HOLLOW, WA, June

Zoe loved doing inventory.

There was something deeply satisfying about counting things, labeling them properly, and putting them back exactly where they belonged. When everything was in order, nothing slipped past unnoticed. And if something did slip, she’d catch it. Early. That was the whole point.

She paused, taking in the shop with a big, maybe a little smug, smile.

When things were done carefully and mindfully, the place held together.

Take a well-made basket, for example. It was flexible, useful, reliable, and it could be all those things while being quirkily pretty with the right decorations.

Also extremely difficult to knock over, metaphorically speaking.

The dusty, peppery scent of yarrow curled pleasantly in the air as she resumed bundling, her hands moving in a soothing, familiar rhythm.

The repetition was welcomed. Not because it calmed her down, exactly, but because it kept her just busy enough that her brain didn’t start making up problems out of boredom. Zoe’s brain was very good at that.

The bell over the door chimed.

She didn’t look up right away. “Be right with you,” she called.

“That’s fine,” a woman said. “I already failed once today. I’m not in a hurry to go home and repeat the experience.”

That got Zoe’s attention.

She glanced up to see Lina at the door, blond hair in a loose, messy knot, canvas bag slung over one shoulder. Hairdresser. Witch extraordinaire. Regular. And, crucially, not the sort to unnecessarily dramatize things.

Zoe wiped her hands on her apron and crossed the room to the counter. “Alright,” she said. “Tell me everything. Preferably in chronological order, but I’ll accept interpretive.”

Lina snorted and reached into her bag, setting a pouch on the counter.

Zoe recognized it immediately. One of hers.

That alone bumped this visit from interesting to interesting with a proceed with caution sign on it.

She loosened the tie and brought it to her nose.

Angelica. The musky scent was right—clean and earthy.

Exactly what it should be. “Smells right,” she said. “What was the issue?”

“The ward didn’t hold.”

Zoe tipped a small amount into her palm. Dried root, cleanly cut. No dust. No dampness. Angelica kept its shape when it was treated properly, and this had. “Did it collapse,” she asked, “or did it never fully set?”

“It did set,” Lina said. “For about a minute. Then it just... let go.”

Zoe nodded, already filing that away. “Same setup?”

“Same circle. Same basement. Same salt. Same chalk.”

Good. Variables mattered. Zoe tipped the herbs back into the pouch and retied it neatly. “That is odd,” she said. “Alright. I’ll remake it for you. Different batch, no charge. Give me a couple of hours.”

Lina let out a breath and smiled. “Thank you. Litha is prime time for protection wards. I want everything ready.” Her smile turned sly. “This is going to bother you, isn’t it?”

Zoe chuckled. “A little. Not coconut-sized-nut. More... peanut-nut.”

Lina laughed. “Sorry it landed on you. I know how much you hate it when the math doesn’t math.”

“It’s fine,” Zoe said easily. “That’s why I keep notes. And grudges. But mostly notes.”

As soon as Lina left, Zoe reached under the counter and pulled out her notebook. She flipped to the next clean line and wrote carefully.

Angelica. Harvested May 28 (creekside patch). Ward failure to hold.

She underlined it once. Then she stared at the page. Three other entries stared back.

Yarrow. Harvested May 24 (south meadow). Ward instability.

Chamomile. Harvested May 26 (greenhouse). Decreased sedative effect.

Meadowsweet. Harvested May 22 (riverbank). Pain tincture delayed.

Zoe tilted her head, studying the list.

Not a disaster. Minor errors happened here and there, although she’d never been one for sloppy work. Minor errors did not usually line up in a row, though.

She looked around the shop again. The hanging bundles, aligned just so. The shelves she stocked herself. The drying racks she checked twice a day without thinking about it. Tinctures, syrups, poultices, salves, capsules. Everything was made carefully. Precisely.

Everything behaving itself.

She closed the notebook gently.

“Okay,” she said to the empty shop. “Something’s being sneaky.”

Whatever this was, it wasn’t a coincidence. And it was definitely worth a closer look.

THE PATIO BEHIND THE Summit Café was half shaded by climbing jasmine and a wide canvas umbrella that had seen better summers but was still doing honest, union-level work.

Late afternoon light slanted in from the west, catching on glass rims and polished tabletops.

Wind chimes tinkled lazily somewhere nearby, and the air smelled faintly of citrus peel, crushed mint, and sun-warmed wood.

Mystic Hollow was in its favorite in-between hour.

Too late for errands, too early for evening, with no one feeling particularly obligated to be productive.

Summer lingered without being pushy–yet.

A few tables were occupied. Low voices. A laugh that rose and faded.

The scrape of a chair as someone decided to leave.

Zoe sat with her forearms resting on the cool tabletop, condensation from her mojito dampening her fingertips as she nudged the glass absently. Ice clinked softly. One side of her face was warm from the sun, the other pleasantly shaded. It felt like a reasonable compromise.

Across from her, Jade looked radiant. Literally.

Her skin held that soft, luminous glow all Oreads carried, like sunlight had brushed against her and decided to stay.

She shifted sideways in her chair to give her dragonfly-like wings more room, the translucent membranes catching the light in small, cheerful rainbows that made passersby slow down to take a second look.

This was a good place to sit with a problem. Not to solve it, not yet. Just to let it breathe, the way herbs did before you decided what they were going to be.

“So,” Jade said lightly, twirling one dark curl around her finger, “did you freak out? I know you’re not freaking out now. You’re worried, which we’ll absolutely unpack in a minute. But did you freak out?”

“I didn’t freak out,” Zoe said, lifting her mojito. “Exactly.”

Jade grinned. “Of course you didn’t.”

Zoe took a careful sip. “But I’m also not going to pretend it’s nothing. I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“It would honestly be easier for me to believe in a full cosmic malfunction than you making a mistake.”

Zoe laughed. “Flattering, if slightly alarming for the universe. It does mean something’s happening, and I’d like to know what.”

“So you can fix it.”

“So I can fix it,” Zoe agreed easily. “It’s like the plants are... not misbehaving.” She tilted her head, searching for the right word. “More like they’re tired.”

Jade made a face. “The poor things. What are you going to do next, then?”

“I might take a long walk in the forest,” Zoe continued. “See if anything is off. Or more off. Or off in a new and creative way.”

“If it’s forest-adjacent, do you want me to ask Aryon and Elara if they’ve noticed anything? I don’t know how much they can help now, not with Letha so close.”

It was a good idea. The High Lord and Lady of the Elves shared a special affinity with nature. It was definitely worth having their input. “Wherever they can share, it’ll be helpful,” Zoe said. “Thank you. I appreciate a good triangulation.”

She nudged a mint leaf with her straw, playing with the ice as it bumped against the glass. The sound was comforting. Or the alcohol was doing its job. Probably the alcohol. She wasn’t above acknowledging a useful mojito.

She needed a pause. Space in her head to let the thoughts reshuffle into something actionable instead of merely poking. “Tell me about Letha,” she said, glancing back at Jade. “Properly. From the beginning. With footnotes.”

Jade smiled, knowing, and reached across the table to squeeze her hand. An empath, she’d caught both Zoe’s surface-level desire to change the subject and the deeper need for reassurance Zoe rarely let herself voice. So she offered both without making a production of it.

“You’ll figure it out,” Jade said easily. “You always do. Just remember, you don’t have to do it alone.” Then she lifted her chin with mock solemnity. “And with that, I officially approve the change of subject. Letha, my friend, is a spectacular, radiant disaster.”