Chapter 6
The town council meeting has never dragged on so long. I sit in agonized suspense, waiting for the time slot they always reserve at the end, the opportunity for any questions the townspeople might have.
Rick Thane sits on the far right side of the room, and I keep sneaking glances at him. He looks like a grouchy, scruffy, broad-shouldered lumberjack dressed in plaid, waiting to ruin my life.
Tess and Ashala volunteered to come with me tonight, but I needed them to do a few chores, like stocking up on some extra supplies and canceling our weekend clients.
We’re keeping the group on Thursday evening, but beyond that, I can’t risk having visitors at the stables—not until the situation with Val is resolved.
My confession to Tess and Ashala went so well that I actually started to have hope, to think that maybe Crescent Cove could accept me, after all.
But the second I walked into the town hall and saw the members of the admittance board, that hope drained from my body.
I remember the face-to-face interviews, the panel examination, the questions they asked.
I remember how alone I felt and how certain I was that they wouldn’t let me stay, that I was too innately evil.
The day I got the acceptance email, I had almost made up my mind to go back to the herd.
Tess and Ashala might be cool with my secret, but the council never really wanted me here.
Kelpies are on the list of “bad” monsters, the ones so violent and irredeemable that they have no place either with humans or with other supernaturals.
No matter how much I’ve tried to change, to become someone safe, the reputation of my species still haunts me.
Despite my years of good behavior, the council members who handled my admittance have never looked at me the same way they look at other residents.
When they greet me, the kindness in their eyes is always tinged with a latent caution.
When they ask how I’m doing, they really want to know if I still have myself under control.
One of them is at the podium now, talking about the music festival this weekend.
The witches responsible for the town’s wards will be adjusting them to admit human visitors, just like they do for other major events like the surfing competition we sometimes host. Tourism is important for the survival of the town, but it poses a significant challenge for the witches who handle the wards, as well as for the shifters who handle security for the events.
Everyone in town volunteers and pitches in, but those groups hold the most authority and influence.
“Please remember to curtail all magical and supernatural activity from Thursday night through Tuesday morning,” says the councilwoman.
“The moratorium on the public use of magic begins tomorrow evening, people. Please plan to complete all rituals, charms, and other spellwork before then. If you have to shift, cast, or perform other magical activities during the festival weekend, carry those out within the privacy of your own home or within one of the designated safe zones. If a human does happen to witness anything supernatural, please contact our containment squad so someone can be dispatched to perform a memory alteration. Any questions before we move on to other business?”
Several questions are posed, but I barely listen to the answers.
My sister couldn’t have picked a worse weekend to show up. The town is going to be open to humans, which means that other supernaturals can also slip in. It’s happened before, despite the witches’ best efforts.
I have to warn the council about her, so they can be prepared.
I owe it to these people. They’ve let me live close by, more or less under their protection.
Maybe they weren’t very enthusiastic about welcoming me to the area, but they’ve let me exist here in relative safety.
Those responsible for my admission have kept my secret, allowing me the choice to conceal or divulge it.
Valeria’s presence in the area puts everyone at risk. If I don’t tell them about the danger she poses, I’ll carry a share of the blame for any resulting carnage.
But if I warn them, they’ll ask when and where I encountered her. I’ll have to reveal the fact that I shifted without intending to. I don’t know how they’ll react to that information. As far as they know, I haven’t experienced an involuntary transformation since I moved here.
Besides that, the council will have to order special wards to keep out kelpies for the weekend, which means I won’t be able to enter the town either, or venture onto the main stretch of the beach. I’ll miss the festival, an event I look forward to every year since I came to Crescent Cove.
My own love for the festival shouldn’t even be a consideration when weighed against people’s lives.
If my sister finds out about the event, she’ll enter the town and prey upon the tourists as well as the locals.
I can’t let that happen. I can’t be responsible for the evil nature of my predatory family.
As much as I’d rather not say anything to the council, I certainly don’t want Rick Thane doing some kind of kelpie tell-all.
That’s one sure way to get me in deeper trouble with the local authorities.
The council will wonder why I didn’t confess, and why they had to hear about it from him.
They’ll pull me aside after the meeting to discuss it quietly while everyone else is eating the potluck dinner we always enjoy after a town hall.
I’ll be banned from Crescent Cove until the conclusion of the music festival, and they’ll probably open an investigation as well, to ensure that I haven’t become a threat.
They might not even bother investigating; they might simply ask me to close down the stables and move on.
If I do have to close down, at least I have the consolation of knowing that I’ll be missed.
Many of the townspeople come to Spyglass Stables for trail rides or just to be around the horses.
For families or friend groups who come in the evening, we often cook breakfast-for-dinner over the fire pit, and then Ashala leads us in campfire songs while Tess plays the guitar.
My throat tightens at the thought of those special times ending for good.
“Any additional business?” asks the councilwoman.
I wait, fists clenched.
A couple more people speak up—tiny problems that are swiftly resolved. There’s one last call for questions… then the meeting concludes and everyone files toward the back of the room, where folding tables are lined with steaming crockpots and platters of food.
I remain in my seat, stunned. Once again, I glance at Rick Thane, still manspreading in his folding chair. His head turns, and his eyes meet mine. He gives me a small nod, then rises and leaves the building by a side door.
The shock of that tiny interaction is like a bolt of lightning to my chest, zinging along my nerves.
I asked him not to mention the kelpies, and he didn’t, even though he had every reason to. Does he suspect that I’m one of them?
A few of the council members are clustered at the head of the room, speaking in low voices.
I should go to them and warn them about my sister…
but that can wait. Hell, I could just send them an email and spare myself the conversation.
Right now, I’m desperate to know why Rick Thane didn’t mention his kelpie encounter.
I dart out the same side door through which he left.
Thanks to my hesitation and his quick, purposeful stride, he’s almost out of sight.
I catch a glimpse of him between two buildings, vanishing around the corner.
Looks like he’s headed toward the beach.
I have no idea why he’d want to go there at this time of night.
While we were in the meeting, the wind picked up, sweeping across the dunes in gusts so dramatic they’re almost brutal.
My clothes are whipped tight against my body, and my hair slaps my cheek, glued there by the force of the rushing air.
The night sky churns with dark clouds, boiling like black liquid in a witch’s cauldron.
The weather has been behaving oddly lately, so much so that I wonder if one of the storm witches might be struggling with their power or going through some traumatic experience.
It wouldn’t be the first time something like that has happened around here.
Maybe there’s a young witch, new to town, learning how to control their abilities.
Whatever the cause, the gale is so powerful I’m having trouble walking normally as I follow the path down to the beach. Rick Thane, broad-shouldered and solid as he is, doesn’t seem to have any issues, which irritates me.
“Hey!” I yell, but the wind snatches my cry and whisks it away.
Teeth gritted, I march after Rick, determined to catch up to him and figure out what he’s thinking.
I need to know if he plans to say anything about what happened at Fuller’s Pond.
That will determine how much I reveal to the council when I warn them about my sister.
He walks faster and farther than I expected.
Maybe he’s still working off the effects of the potion he drank.
After he illustrated how safe it supposedly was, I took one tiny sip.
It didn’t taste right, and I couldn’t force myself to drink any more, not with the memory of Lou’s coffee so fresh in my mind.
I need things to stay the same. I need them to continue smoothly, especially when they tie in so closely with my existence here.