Chapter 6 Leap of Faith
Wynn
Leaving the dungeons, I swear to never come back. Maybe forgetting Marlow the liar will fix everything he broke.
Easier said than done.
I shift into wolf form in the Iron Forest, a familiar surge of power rippling through my body as fur sprouts over skin.
The forest comes alive around me, wolf senses flooding me with scents of moss and pine, the rustle of prey in distant undergrowth.
My paws race along uneven terrain, launching over roots and rocks, desperate to outrun thoughts of Marlow.
The way he said my name, the doubt and confusion swirling in my mind.
Time loses meaning as I sprint through the forest, and the moon hangs high in the sky when I finally call it quits. After shifting back and heading home, I collapse into bed, too drained to think about anything.
But it all comes back in the morning.
I stare up at the ceiling as the morning light filters through the curtains. Don’t think about wily demons with seductive smiles and tempting lies.
Five minutes later, my laptop rests in front of me, fingers hovering over the keyboard before I cave and type "Brighton supernatural community" into the search bar—the supernatural one humans can't access.
Brighton's official page loads with glossy photos of historic buildings, fancy dinners, and artisan cocktails. Standard tourist bait. Accidentally clicking on the events calendar gives me a lead. Three days are marked as visitor days for ‘restricted non-residents,’ whatever that means.
A bit more searching turns up forums and petitions filled with complaints.
Brighton bans people with powers considered dark or undesirable.
Only certain visitors are the ‘restricted’ kind, demons, necromancers, goblins, and a few others.
They’re only legally allowed inside Brighton’s borders on the designated days every other month, which screws over everyone with lower incomes who can’t relocate to a more accepting supernatural sanctuary.
Marlow was telling the truth about Brighton. The officials there wouldn’t give him a fair trial. They’d condemn him just for being a demon.
But that doesn’t mean he’s innocent or my mate.
More online sleuthing doesn’t turn up any connection between Marlow and his victim. Doesn’t turn up much on the victim at all.
Marlow has an ancient website advertising his shady P.I.
services, and I have no idea what to make of the glowing five-star reviews.
Some mention no one else being willing to help, which tracks, since blackmail and extortion aren't standard offerings for legitimate private detectives. But something doesn’t add up.
Other reviews mention Marlow slashing his rates for clients who couldn't afford to pay.
One review from a single mother says he worked her case for free. That seems less shady and more… decent.
The picture of the demon I’m dealing with remains confusing. Nothing I find incriminates him. A lot of what he told me lines up. But still, there’s so much I’m in the dark about. Can I really take the risk?
His only alibi is a tiny gargoyle literally connected to his soul, not the most unbiased character witness. But Iggy did vouch for Marlow. It’s easier to trust the shy gargoyle than the coy demon.
I shut my laptop and laugh at myself. “Nope, a jailbreak isn’t happening. I’m not even considering it.”
Helping him would be insane. And totally blow up my life. I can’t risk everything for a lying demon desperate to save himself.
But I still have this niggling gut feeling that he’s telling truth.
Marlow leaves tomorrow. Any chance of discovering if he's innocent—if he's mine—vanishes with him.
I need a second opinion, someone to talk some sense into me. I end up texting my best friend.
Wynn: Might need your advice about something.
Bane: Don’t do it.
Wynn: Okay, thanks. But maybe hear me out first?
Bane: Who is it this time?
Wynn: Who said we’re even talking about my love life?
…
Wynn: It’s a guy.
Bane: Look, if you have a bad feeling in your gut, it’s probably right. Walk away before you get attached.
That’s the tricky part.
Wynn: My gut says to trust him. Everything else says to run away.
My gut has been saying the same thing ever since Marlow and I first talked alone in the dungeons. He’s not telling me everything, but he’s not a bad person. It’s all the other evidence to the contrary that’s tripping me up.
And the ‘maybe mates’ thing? No idea what to do with that part.
Bane: Alright, give me the whole story.
No, bad idea.
Whatever happens, it’s on me. If I’m wrong and Marlow’s not innocent, the consequences for helping him will be severe. Deservedly so. No one I love should pay the price for my decision.
Wait. Am I really thinking about doing this?
Maybe Adelaide was right. I do need a vacation.
When I drag my duffel bag from the closet and text Adelaide to let her know I’m leaving, I tell myself it’s an ordinary trip.
Driving somewhere far from here to clear my head.
A long vacation until I relax and feel like myself again.
Because helping a killer escape justice?
That isn’t me. I'd never forgive myself.
I shove clothes into the bag without paying attention, hands moving on autopilot while my brain spins in circles. I'm already out the door, bag slung over my shoulder and keys in hand, when my feet stop moving.
I won’t be able to live with myself if I help a killer escape justice. But what if I can help an innocent man and I do nothing?
I can’t live with that either. And if the man happens to be my mate…
When I turn around and head back inside, my mind’s already made up. If I walk away when there’s a chance he’s innocent, when I have no idea if he’s truly my mate, I’ll never stop wondering.
I need to see this through.
I yank clothes from my duffel and raid my roommate's closet instead. We’ll also need scent blockers, non-perishable food, what else?
Gathering supplies takes a bit of time but the basics of a plan are all figured out when I’m finished.
I put into motion as much as I can beforehand and then… it’s time to leave.
Time to risk everything for a demon I barely know. A demon who might be my mate.
What if I’m wrong about Marlow? What if I’m the only one who’s right?
Something tells me to trust him. I can’t quite make the leap and call him my mate, but…
it doesn’t really matter. If I’m the only person willing to help an innocent man no one else believes, it doesn’t matter what our connection is.
I’m in, no matter where it leads.