Chapter Sixteen #2
Astrid, the valkyrie, is all sharp steel and cold judgment. She doesn't bother with masks. She hates Kayden, that much is clear. But I wonder what made her respect Asher enough to stay.
Donna's as advertised—sunshine in combat boots. A cinnamon roll with fangs. She's adapting to vampirehood with a kind of radiant defiance, but I can't help but wonder who turned the mayor's daughter? And what did it cost her?
Tomas stands near Asher like a soldier in a quiet formation, watchful and patient. Not relaxed. I don't know his full story yet.
Jace hasn't said a word since he walked in. He won't look at me, but I don't know if it's residual wallet resentment or something deeper. He wears the sharp lines of the city like armor, and yet he's here. In this tucked-away town that clearly wasn't his first choice.
Then there's dreamy-eyed Eira, the most unreadable of them all. I felt it when she touched me—she knows what I am. She hasn't outed me yet, which says something. Though, I don't know what.
"Asher," I murmur quietly.
His voice cuts clean across the room. "Let's get back to the task at hand."
No shouting, but his tone slices through the chatter effectively. Kayden stops baiting. Even Astrid quiets.
"The floor is yours, Sage."
I take a slow breath. My heart's not racing, but it's definitely aware.
"My name is Sage Quinn," I begin, stepping forward. "And I'm a nymph."
It feels like standing naked in a spotlight. Like I'm holding up a sign that says hunt me.
"Sorry if that sounded like the start of a support group," I add, trying for a small smile.
No one laughs. Donna offers me a soft nod. I go on.
I give them the short version—how I woke up changed in the forest, how I was taken in by Darius and his people, and how, over time, I came to realize Hawthorn Industries isn't just about solar panels and green tech.
I leave out the details. Not a word about the night with Kayden a year ago, or the engagement. But I give them enough to understand what I am, what I'm running from, and what might be chasing me.
They don't interrupt, but they're watching closely. Every microexpression, every twitch of a jaw or narrowing of eyes tells me they're listening. Processing. Weighing me. I don't know yet if that's good or dangerous.
I've learned the hard way that creatures like me don't survive long by being honest. The supernatural world is hostile to nymphs. I was taught to hide, lie, deceive, and fight.
But now I'm sitting in a room full of them: vampires, a banshee, a valkyrie, a coyote shifter.
And I'm about to ask them for help. It goes against every instinct I have.
Every rule I've lived by. But I've spent nights under this roof with two vampires and didn't lose a drop of blood, so maybe the rules are changing.
Or maybe they were never like what I was taught.
"There's a passage we found in an old book," I say, voice steady even if my heart isn't. "About a crystal called celestite.
It supposedly can 'break a satyr's song.
' Which we believe refers to a satyr's influence power.
But it doesn't work alone. It needs extra magic to activate. Something spoken and old."
I hate how hard it is to ask. But it is hard.
"If anyone here knows anything that could help me," I add, the last words slipping out rougher than intended, "I'd appreciate it."
Asher steps in beside me, calm and steady. "We don't know if it's witchcraft or another kind of magic. But if anything sounds familiar to you, please speak up."
Kayden's the first to talk, naturally. "Didn't you say your bloodline's got some old magic in it?" he asks, looking at Tomas.
Tomas nods, his expression unreadable. "Yes.
My family has the shaman's gift. I was born with it.
But when I turned…" He trails off, the weight of it pressing into the silence.
"It left me. Whatever I had, it didn't survive the transition.
" After a moment, he adds, quietly, "I could reach out to my family, those still alive, but…
they didn't exactly welcome me back. Not like this. "
Shunned by his own blood. A soldier returned from war, carrying more than just trauma. A vampire, not just a man. And they turned their backs on him.
Before I can say anything, Astrid cuts in, sharp voice, all bluntness, no filter. "A nymph, huh?" she says, leaning back in her chair. "Thought you were all extinct." Her eyes rake over me. "Aren't you supposed to be naked?"
My eyes narrow.
"Seems like everyone's disappointed when I show up with my tits not out," I shoot back before I can stop myself.
Kayden laughs, low and unbothered. Astrid lets out a scoff, but there's something amused in it.
"Well," she says, taking another swig from her bottle, "that at least explains the sex haze in this house. It's practically dripping off the walls."
I blink. "I—what?"
Kayden jumps in. "Since when can you feel sex? Aren't valkyries all about death and glory?"
"There's life. There's death," Astrid says with a shrug. "And sex is what lives in between."
Kayden nods slowly, grinning. "You know what? Can't argue with that."
"I met a nymph once," Eira says, her voice soft but clear, thankfully cutting through the awkwardness I had no interest in dragging out. "Years ago. But she was… different. Your energy is more volatile. Raw. I suppose that's because you weren't born one."
She tilts her head as she says it, pale hair sliding over one shoulder, her gaze quietly assessing.
"I think the kind of magic you're looking for is druidic," she adds. "They're the ones most attuned to nature-bound beings."
"Oh, perfect," Kayden mutters, standing to refill his drink. "I'm sure there's a druid directory in the Yellow Pages."
"You know we use the internet now, not stone tablets and telephone books, right?" Asher replies dryly, not even glancing up.
Kayden rolls his eyes. "Doesn't have the same dramatic ring, does it?"
Eira clears her throat, gently ending the bickering. "I actually do know a druid. She's an old friend of mine."
Asher perks up immediately. "Can we bring her here?"
Eira nods. "Most likely. She's based in Northern Canada these days. Works as a marine biologist by trade, but freelances as a druid. For a price."
Before I can open my mouth, before I can even wince, Asher nods once. "Bring her."
Damn it.
A druid from the Arctic Circle flown in on supernatural consulting rates? That's going to cost. And I'm not about to let them keep covering things for me like I'm some lost charity case with dangerous exes and a garden that blooms when she moans.
"I'll figure out how to pay for it," I say, too quiet for most of them to hear.
Astrid speaks up next, stretching her long legs out as she reaches for her phone. "I'll put out feelers on this crystal—celestite. If it exists in this state, or anyone's seen it traded, I'll hear about it."
"Thank you," I tell her, and Eira too. "Really. I appreciate it."
I look around at the people in this room. The last group I trusted with my life ended up betraying me.
I tell myself this is different. That these people are different. I need them to be. Because if it happens again, if I'm hunted, sold out or used by one more person I open up to, I might start thinking the problem isn't them. It's me.