Chapter Twelve
I didn’t sleep much at all that night.
Shopping wasn’t much fun considering we were both pissed off. Sure, there was a lot between us that I didn’t understand, but one thing had become crystal clear: Laken and I could no longer read each other.
We’d stopped by one of Honey Brooke’s boutiques and I bought new boots.
Neither of us spoke; we hardly dared to look at each other.
At the vet’s office, I’d spent most of my time trying to avoid throwing up from the foul scents.
Thomas Everdeen, the veterinarian, chatted with Laken about Indo.
Apparently, stomach problems among dragons aren’t uncommon.
He said they eat things they shouldn’t and because of the heat in their guts, it can harden or turn to a violent gas.
He sent us on our way with a gallon glass jug of some concoction, and we continued our silent journey.
Dragging myself into Goldie’s Market, her stone walls and air crisp with fruits and vegetables welcomed me.
Market by day, Rabbit’s Foot by night—she did it all.
The market was one of the places in town that almost felt like home—or made me long for it, at the very least. A warm hue of light fell over the shelves and baskets, a buttery tone gifted from the sun peeking in from outside. Pastries, bread—a carb lover’s dream.
My mother loved it as well; we’d come weekly for groceries and to put in orders for the creatures.
She’d pick out fruits, knocking on melons and feeling the softness of loaves through the wrappers.
I could still see her with a bandanna tied in her hair—the same hair as me, a basket on her arm, the sun on her skin.
Then I’d started coming alone. I put orders in, I bought groceries that I cooked, and I hated every trip. I wasn’t sure what to feel now. Laken did the work, as he’d memorized the list, and paid in exact change.
Maybe it was the nostalgia, maybe it was whatever had happened between Laken and me, but my brain felt like Butters had squashed it with a paw. Fortunately, I had an idea.
When things go wrong, there was always my favorite option. Forcing myself from bed, I danced across my cold floors and grabbed a piece of parchment paper, ink, and a rallow feather. Throwing myself into the chair by my dresser, I wrote three words.
Dear Maggie,
Help.
A bit dramatic, maybe, but I needed her. She was visiting soon anyway; what did it hurt to call for her to come a day or two early? I needed to get my life into some sort of plan, and how else would I? By myself? I didn’t think so.
The next morning, after feeding the creatures, I bolted from Laken to get to the post office and be at Sweet Fang as soon as possible.
Honey Brooke’s post office sat near the middle of town, next to the very new town center, which I refused to step foot into.
I swung the glass door open with the rolled-up letter in one hand, thankful nobody else waited inside.
The smell of paper and envelopes hit me in the face, along with the scent of bird.
I forgot how nasty it got in here with the rallows.
Open bird cages were stationed at both sides of the front desk and two more in the corners by the door.
Cawing and squawking made it difficult to hear, but I read Franny’s lips as she said, “Reece! Welcome in.”
Ducking and covering my head, I tried to smile. “Hello,” I yelled as I reached the desk. “It’s been a while, Franny, how are you?”
She shrugged, but in her own prissy way.
Her blond hair came to her shoulders, her skin fair.
Every family had that rich aunt who never wanted children and instead spent her money spoiling her nieces and nephews.
Franny was that, but for all of Honey Brooke.
She’d happily married a member of the courts who lived in the city and visited on weekends.
When we were young, she’d pick us up from parties so we didn’t ride horseback drunk.
She only worked to entertain herself. “Same old same, you know how it is around here. How’s Archie? ”
“He’s good,” I said. “Archie’s still Archie.”
“I heard you guys have a lot going on over there at your place. How is everything? Some of the girls were giggling about how Laken is running it now. That’s great to hear! It’s easier to let the men—”
“I’m sorry.” I stopped her, leaning in. “What did you say?”
“Oh.” Franny sat up. “That a couple of the girls in town said Laken was running the sanctuary.” Each word came slower than the last as she picked up on my turmoil setting in.
My head ached. Harvey had thought the same thing the other day at Rabbit’s Foot. “Why would Laken be running the sanctuary?”
Her lips parted as she tilted her head. “I meant no offense, Reece. That’s just been the word going around since your father left, that he trained Laken to take his place. And well, I think everyone assumed after things got sorted, you’d just, you know, leave again.”
My skin was on fire, my blood boiled, and my jaw clenched so hard it cramped. Laken Augustus running my family business? They wanted him to run it. That’s great to hear, she’d said.
“Well”—I gave Franny a tight-lipped smile—“you can tell everyone McCarthen’s is mine and always will be. It is a McCarthen-owned business and will stay as such.”
Her face blanked. “Oh, okay… I’ll be sure to spread the word.” Her voice started to drop. “So what is it? What can I do for you?”
Right. I came here for a reason. I brought up my letter. “I just need to mail this back to the flower shop in Old Ashton.”
Franny grabbed it, tucking it inside a leather-wrapped tube. “Great! What is the flower shop called again?”
“Dirty Hoes Flower Co.”
She chuckled to herself, writing with a feather on the label. “Alright.” She nodded. “You got it, ma’am.” I held it in the air, and before I could step back, a bird flew by in a red flash and snatched it with its claws. Circling the room, the rallow vanished into nothing. It never got old.
I said my goodbyes, giving my thanks, and hauled my ass to the bakery. This job was too important to screw up. Everything needed to go smoothly. I needed the money. The creatures depended on it.
Thankfully, the bakery sat on the same strip as the post office, just a bit farther down. I hustled by buildings and passed around a couple of early birds walking the town. The sun barely reached over rooftops, but just enough to share its warmth.
The pink wooden Sweet Fang door came into sight, and I breathed with relief.
Tables lined the windows and empty handmade woven chairs were tucked under them.
Before I got the chance to go into the bakery, Ruth busted through the door, apron tied around her and all, with boxes stacked in her arms. She hastily placed them with the two teenage boys standing out beside her.
Unable to hear her from where I walked, I could tell by the pointed fingers she meant business. They took the cart and moved along.
Which left me alone and almost scared.
Ruth caught me moving in her sight, and her eyes softened. Her shoulders relaxed and she let out a deep exhale. “Reece, I’m so glad you made it. Orders are stacked today.” She looked in the direction the boys had taken off in. “But both of my carts are out right now…” She scratched her head.
“I can take it now!” I interrupted. The more deliveries, the better. It’d be getting hotter, so if I could get started as soon as possible, maybe I’d save some sweat.
“Are you sure?” She lifted a white box holding a cake, her lips turning down. “I guess it isn’t that heavy, and the house isn’t very far…”
Offering her a reassuring smile, I held my arms out. “I’ve got it Ruth, no worries.”
She hesitated, either because she didn’t want me to have to walk it or because she didn’t trust me to.
Either way, all would be fine. Carrying a cake couldn’t be that hard, and it couldn’t go that wrong.
Cake in hand, I turned toward town. I kept a keen eye on the cobblestone ahead of me, watching for anything to trip me up or anyone to bump into.
I wore a dark-green corset dress with my hair wrapped up with a hair tie to keep it out of my face, and the cake’s box kept anything from staining my clothes.
I passed by the post office again, and the town center, slowing as I moved along. It’d been rebuilt with new bricks and polished wood floors. Well, I thought to myself, at least they have a nice place to host town meetings.
As I rounded the corner, above the tree line in a pasture a way off, smoke rose into the sky. Dark puffs whirled with a breeze. I stopped dead in my tracks. The sanctuary. Without thinking, I ran.
Sprinting down the street in flats and a dress, holding a cake, surely wasn’t the easiest or most pleasing to witness. Closing the distance, not only did the house come into sight, but so did Laken Augustus, presumably due to the chaos and flames erupting from behind the gates.
“What’s going on?” His blond locks bounced as he ran, messy and hanging over his face.
“Do I look like I know?” I snapped, lifting the obvious box in my hands as he unlatched the lock, and I pushed in. He slid in behind me with a hand on my lower back, and we both froze.
Feathers. Bock-ing. Flames. Archie. Porcupine—Phoebe.
Behind the gates of McCarthen’s Sanctuary for Magical Creatures, mayhem had been unleashed.
Through the noise and vision blurred by flying things here and there, I followed close behind Laken. “What the hell is going o—ah!”
It took all of two seconds for a furious furry-feathered fucker to dart at me with a glowing chest. Chicken and Waffles came for war.
I threw an arm up in front of my face and ducked, but Laken had already kicked up the tin lid, wrapped an arm around my waist, and crouched to shield the both of us.
The heat poured into the air but not a flicker touched us.
I gawked at him, thankful but in shock. How did he do that? But it wasn’t time for questions.