Chapter 19
Edith needed space… yet again. Apparently, becoming human had not improved her tendency to flee emotionally complicated situations.
If anything, it had made it worse. So after enduring approximately forty-five minutes of Jessica hovering, Bas making “opposable thumbs” jokes, and Binky loudly announcing that she now had “tax-paying energy” before they went off to the pub for an "emergency meeting”, Edith had escaped.
Not into the town, absolutely not. The town currently contained bounty hunters, emotional conversations, and at least one suspiciously intense magical cavern.
No thank you, not today. Instead, she headed uphill, towards the old park overlooking the bay.
It sat high on the cliffs above Krakens Hole, tucked behind rows of wind-bent trees and half-hidden by wildflowers that had long since ignored any attempts at organised gardening.
The locals maintained it in the vague way coastal towns maintained things slightly crooked, lovingly chaotic, and stubbornly alive.
Edith liked it because it felt forgotten, but in a good way. The weather had turned bright that afternoon, sunlight spilling across the sea in dazzling flashes of silver-blue, though the wind remained sharp enough to tug at clothes and hair with persistent enthusiasm.
Her hair, especially. Edith caught several strands of purple whipping directly into her mouth as she climbed the hill.
“Fantastic,” she muttered around them. “Wonderful design flaw.”
The park itself was quiet when she arrived. A few old benches overlooked the cliffs, paint faded and chipped from years of salt air. A rusting roundabout sat near the edge of the grassy area, permanently tilted slightly to one side, like it had given up pretending balance mattered years ago.
The swings, though they still worked within reason, Edith approached them slowly, eyeing the nearest one with suspicion.
“I am placing an unreasonable amount of trust in old chains right now,” she informed it.
The swing did not respond, which she found rather rude. Carefully, she sat, and the chains creaked ominously, making Edith freeze.
“Behave,” she warned, but kept still as her weight settled onto the seat.
The swing decided not to collapse beneath her and she celebrated the small victory.
Edith pushed herself gently back and forth with her feet, the movement slow and lazy as she stared out across the bay below.
Krakens Hole stretched beneath the cliffs like something out of an old story. Colourful rooftops clustered together near the harbour, smoke curling lazily from chimneys while the sea wrapped around the town in endless shifting blues.
From up here, everything looked peaceful and safe, almost like nothing bad could possibly reach it, and Edith wished that were true. The wind curled around her again, cooler now, lifting her hair as she swung slightly higher.
She exhaled slowly. “Okay,” she muttered. “Current predicament.”
There were, unfortunately, several.
One: she was human now. Still deeply weird.
Two: the familiars had temporarily revoked her membership privileges. Unacceptable.
Three: bounty hunters. Massive issue.
Edith slowed slightly on the swing, her fingers tightening around the chains. Because that was the one that mattered. The male on the beach.
Spencer.
She hadn’t known his name then, of course, but she did now. Jessica had mentioned it after some digging around town gossip, and approximately three separate warnings from the barmaid that “the dark-haired one has deeply suspicious posture.”
Spencer.
The name fit him annoyingly well, it went with the chiselled jaw and serious eyes. Edith frowned slightly, because he had followed her gaze too carefully on the beach. Watched her too closely. But she had watched him as well, and some deeply inconvenient part of her had noticed things too.
Like the fact he hadn’t rushed her and hadn’t threatened her, instead he had looked at her more like a puzzle than prey. Which honestly might have been worse. Edith groaned softly, letting her head fall back slightly.
“Absolutely not,” she muttered to herself. “We are not developing complicated feelings about the man potentially hired to kidnap us.”
The swing creaked sympathetically.
“Thank you,” she said.
Above her, hidden amongst the twisted branches of the old trees bordering the park, two figures watched.
Fate sat elegantly on one of the thicker branches, dark clothes untouched by the wind, silver-threaded hair drifting around her like smoke. Beside her, Baba Yaga crunched noisily on something that might once have been a biscuit.
“You owe me five,” Baba Yaga muttered.
Fate sighed. “She noticed him faster than I expected.”
“She’s dragon-born,” Baba Yaga replied. “Instinctive creatures. Terrible at card games though.”
Below them, Edith continued swinging gently, blissfully unaware of the supernatural spectators critiquing her life choices from a tree. Nor did she notice the other watcher. Further back. Near the entrance to the park.
Spencer stood partially hidden beneath the shade of one of the trees, hands tucked into his coat pockets as he watched her carefully. He had followed at a distance after seeing her leave the path leading from Krakens Hollow.
Not close enough to threaten, just enough to observe. Which sounded significantly less concerning in his head. The wind shifted again, carrying her scent toward him.
Salt and magic combined with something wild beneath it. Spencer’s jaw tightened faintly.
Every instinct he possessed kept pulling him toward her, and he still didn’t know if that was a problem or not.
Below, the female he now knew as Edith slowed the swing to a stop, her trainers dragging lightly through the grass, She looked tired. Not physically. But soul-tired, the kind of exhaustion Spencer recognised far too well, her shoulders slumped slightly as she stared out over the bay.
“I can’t go back,” she whispered.
The words nearly vanished into the wind, only Spencer heard them, and something in his chest twisted in response.
Above him, Fate smiled slightly.
“Oh dear,” she murmured.
Baba Yaga snorted. “About bloody time.”