Chapter 17
Nova
The shifters don’t leave.
That’s the first thing I notice. Every other person we’ve passed since entering the Hollow has gone about their business — a wave at Brent, a curious glance at us, then back to whatever they were doing.
Normal. But the group that followed us through the forest?
They’re still here. Trailing behind us down the main road like some kind of furry, feathered, scaly entourage.
The fox is trotting along to my left like we’re old friends. The pair of mink are perched on a fence post. The dark wolf-thing is keeping pace on the other side of the road. And the bird with the shimmering feathers has landed on a shop awning directly above my head.
People are noticing.
No one seems alarmed. Just… looking. A woman carrying a basket of bread stops and watches us pass. Two kids who were chasing each other freeze mid-run and stare at the procession behind me. The man on the porch sets down his whittling and leans forward.
“Is that normal?” I ask Brent.
“No,” he says. Simply. Like that’s a complete answer.
Great.
“They don’t usually follow people in,” he adds after a moment. “They patrol the forest. They watch. But they don’t…” He looks behind us at the growing collection. “This.”
“So it’s a me thing.”
“It appears to be a you thing.”
“Wonderful.”
Rane leans in. “You’ve got a fan club.”
“Shut up.”
“A fuzzy, terrifying fan club.”
“I will set you on fire.”
He grins. “Sparky’s back.”
Brent leads us toward the communal building at the center of town — the one with the wide doors and the smell of food.
As we get closer I can see inside. Long tables.
Mismatched chairs. A kitchen at the back where someone is stirring something in a pot big enough to bathe in.
It doesn’t look like any community hall I’ve ever seen.
This one is actually warm, and welcoming and feels like…
its okay to just walk in and get what you need.
I catch a glimpse of the woman ladling soup — there’s a mark on her forearm that looks incomplete, like it started forming and gave up halfway through.
The man at the door has one that’s split down the middle like Trey’s.
My stomach growls loud enough that Rane hears it and smirks.
“Come on in,” Brent says, holding the door open. “Mara runs the hall. She’ll get you sorted.”
A woman looks up from behind the counter. She’s maybe forty, dark hair pulled back, arms that suggest she’s been hauling things her whole life. She takes one look at our group — exhausted, filthy, bleeding, trailing an army of shifted animals — and doesn’t blink.
“How many?” she asks Brent.
“Eight.”
“The Aspen house?”
“That’s the one.”
She raises an eyebrow but nods and turns to us. “Sit. I’ll bring food.”
We sit. I don’t think any of us have the energy to do anything else. The chairs are wooden and mismatched and the table has water rings and scratches and it’s the best seat I’ve ever had.
Mara brings plates before I’ve finished exhaling. Bread. Soup. Cheese. A pitcher of something that turns out to be lemonade, cold enough that the glass sweats. She sets a plate in front of me first and I stare at it.
“Eat,” she says, with a knowing look on her face. “You look like you need it.”
I pick up the bread. My hands are shaking and I hope nobody notices.
Vaelor notices. He doesn’t say anything. He just picks up his own bread and starts eating like it’s the most normal thing in the world and somehow that makes it easier.
A man comes through the side door. Tall, broad, maybe early thirties. Dark skin, easy smile, the kind of person who takes up space without being aggressive about it. There’s a black mark curling up the side of his neck and disappearing into his collar.
“Brent.” He clasps Brent’s hand. “Wasn’t expecting you back this fast.”
“Wasn’t expecting to find them this fast.” Brent nods at us. “This is the cluster I told you about. And this—” He looks at me. “This is Nova.”
The man looks at me. At my wrist. His eyebrows go up but he recovers fast.
“Jonah,” he says. “I handle intake. Getting people settled, making sure they’ve got what they need.” He pulls up a chair at the end of the table. “You all look like hell.”
“Feel like it too,” Trey says.
“Well, the good news is we’ve got a house for you. Minerva’s been holding one back for a while. Said she had a feeling.” He shakes his head. “That woman and her feelings.”
“That woman and her feelings are why this place exists,” Mara calls from the kitchen.
“Sorry, who’s Minerva?” I ask.
Vaelor doesn’t look up from his bread. “My grandmother.”
That’s apparently all the explanation anyone thinks I need.
Someone sets a glass of lemonade in front of me. I look up. It’s a girl — maybe my age, or a little younger. She’s got brown hair, and quiet eyes. She doesn’t say anything. Just sets the glass down and gives me a small nod and moves on to Locke.
I wrap my hands around it. The glass is cold and real and nobody asked for anything in exchange for it.
My throat tightens.
More people drift in. Someone brings a blanket and drapes it over the back of Beckett’s chair without a word. A man sets a pair of worn boots on the floor next to my feet and says “these should fit” and walks away before I can respond.
I look down at my bleeding feet. At the boots. At the lemonade in my hands.
“You okay?” Kyron asks. Low enough that only I hear it.
“Yeah.” My voice is thick. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
I’m not fine. I’m sitting in a communal hall in a town full of people who don’t belong anywhere else and they’re feeding me and giving me shoes and nobody has asked who I am or what I can do for them and I did I mention I’m not okay?
Outside the window, the fox is sitting on the porch. Still watching me. The bird with the shimmering feathers has moved to the railing. Two more shifters I don’t recognize from before have joined them.
Jonah follows my gaze. “They’ve never done that before.”
“So I’ve heard.”
He looks at me. At my mark. Back at my face. Whatever he’s thinking, he keeps it to himself.
“Eat,” he says. “Settle in. The house is two doors down from here — white shutters, blue door. It’s got four bedrooms so you’ll have to figure out the math on that.”
“Seven people, four bedrooms,” Rane says. “That math is going to be fun.”
“I’m sure you’ll manage.” Jonah stands. “Welcome to the Hollow. If you need anything, Mara knows everything and I know everyone. Between the two of us, you’ll be fine.”
I watch him walk out.
The girl who brought my glass is sitting at another table now, eating by herself. She catches me looking and gives me another one of those small nods. Like she knows what it’s like to walk into a place you didn’t know existed and have people be kind to you for no reason.
I nod back.
“So,” Trey says, looking around the table. “Resistance town with a community hall, homemade lemonade, and a house waiting for us.” He takes a bite of bread. “Could be worse.”
“Could be a lot worse,” Beckett agrees.
Locke hasn’t spoken. But he’s eating. And his hand is resting on the back of my chair but I don’t think he realizes he’s doing it. Something about it makes me smile.
I eat my soup. It’s good. Simple.
I’m not sure where we go from here, but its a good start.