Chapter 14 #6
Erin nodded like that was the final word for all foxes everywhere and went back to colouring a dragon purple.
Byron stood in the doorway. “We have to treat every chime like it matters,” he said.
Lucy caught his eye and nodded. She was already in training clothes; she had been since breakfast. The adrenaline of the past week hadn’t left her body yet; it only found new places to sit.
“Let’s go,” Byron said quietly, and Lucy followed him into the training room.
They rolled up the rug and pushed back the chairs. Byron tapped two fingers against his chest. “Breath first.”
“I know,” Lucy said, slow inhale, measured exhale, until the jitter in her hands turned into focus.
“Again,” he said.
By the end, she could feel the room like a map, where his weight sat, where the air gathered, where the hum at the base of her skull sharpened when he got close.
“You’re getting better,” he said, handing her a glass of water. “Good.”
“I'm not there yet, I still have so far to go,” she said out of breath.
Lucy took the glass and leaned her hip against the desk. The Bloom Bells chimed faintly, and both their heads lifted. Quiet. No one shouted from the hall. A clear sign that it was another false alarm.
The second day dragged its heels. It was the same routine, train- Pause at the bell bloom sounds-Train some more - have we been breached? It was enough to drive anyone insane.
On the third morning, Lucy called it out in the kitchen while she cracked eggs into a bowl. “We are not turning into those people who flinch at cutlery,” she said. “Tonight, we do something nice. Not huge. Just… nice.”
“Define ‘nice,’” Corey said, checking a list on his phone.
“Lights. Music. Food. Laughter. Shit that normal people do” She whisked the eggs hard. “If the bells ring, they ring. We’ll deal with it.”
“Are we inviting the fox?” Sam asked, deadpan.
“Only if he brings ID,” Erin said. Her ‘R’ in ‘brings’ wobbled like a tricycle turning.
Davina caught Lucy’s eye over Erin’s head. “It’s a good idea. Everyone’s feeling the tension right now.”
Mandy nodded, counting on her fingers as she spoke. “False alarms create fatigue. Fatigue leads to mistakes. A soft evening could be a stronger ward than the ones I have placed outside.”
Mary drifted in, poured coffee, and didn’t comment, which was as good as a yes from her.
Byron leaned on the counter near Lucy. “You sure you can switch off?”
“I’m not switching off,” she said. “I’m just going to try and make this my new norm by including the fun. It’s a tactic.”
He considered that and nodded. “Okay. Tactic approved.”
“See?” Lucy said to Corey. “I have executive support.”
Corey rolled his eyes. “You have my support if someone else is on washing up.”
Erin lifted her hand without looking up from a worksheet Davina had printed. “I can help. I’m big.”
“You are,” Lucy agreed. “And you are promoted to Chief Spoon Stacker.”
Erin blinked at Davina, impressed. “I have a job.”
Lucy laughed, and the sound turned the air lighter in the room.
Everyone was excited for the evening's events; Damien went on a food and drink run Barnaby found a string of old fairy lights in a box marked “Winter” and strung them along the beams in the main room. Mary side-eyed him and then, when he wasn’t looking, adjusted one loop by an inch as if it had offended her.
Davina and Erin were sitting quietly in a corner practising Fae magic, it was such a warming sight to see, it made Corey feel terrible to interrupt.
“Davina, I know I haven't had a real chance to be with you, and i was hoping tonight we could talk?” Davina smiled, of course, maybe we could dance too?” Barnaby shouted out “no” from across the room, causing Corey to blush and walk away, before he left the room he turned back to Davina and said “Let's just talk ok” “Ok” she responded. Lucy whispered “I’ll explain to you later why dancing is a no go”
By late afternoon the house smelled like citrus and bread and warm wood. Corey found a speaker that still worked and, with Barnaby’s infinite confidence, created a playlist. Sam discovered a case of something appley in the cellar and came back looking pleased.
Lucy showered and changed. She put on jeans and a soft jumper and tied her hair up. When she caught her reflection, she paused. She looked less like a weapon and more like a person, and for a beat that was a relief.
Byron knocked on the door and leaned in. “Ready?”
“Yes, I am” she said, ready to claim a few hours of peace.
Evening brought the kind of soft light that flatters old rooms. The fairy lights glowed; the security screens idled in greyscale at the edge of everyone’s peripheral vision like a well-behaved chaperone.
Music threaded low and easy through the air they were older tracks that Barnaby swore were classics.
They ate. On the floor, around the table, leaning against the doorframes.
Mandy passed Lucy a glass and murmured, “Thank you.” The words held more weight than just for the party. Lucy shook her head. “We need it. Or I need it and you’re all indulging me.”
Mandy smiled as she twirled off. Corey tried to teach Erin a clapping game. She gloated when she beat him and he demanded a rematch and then got distracted when Barnaby, in a reckless mood, attempted a small dance move and nearly knocked the fairy lights off the beam.
“Stop,” Sam said from across the room without turning her head.
“I’m a natural,” Barnaby protested.
“You’re a hazard,” Mandy corrected, but she was laughing.
Lucy stood near Byron and let the sound of people settle into her body like medicine. She hadn’t realised how thirsty she was for warmth until it poured into her.
“Worth it?” Byron asked, low.
“Yes.”
They danced. Real dancing, bad and joyful.
Corey did something with his shoulders that made Erin shriek-laugh and attempt to copy it.
Davina swayed with Mandy, both careful to keep Erin between them and out of the drift of elbows.
Sam pretended not to dance and then caught herself doing it anyway and bore it with dignity.
Barnaby spun too fast and had to clutch a chair like a ship’s rail.
For an hour the bells didn’t ring.
And then they did, the bells rang.
It wasn’t the tinkling tease that had shredded their nerves all week. It was clean and layered, one note overlapping the next until they made a sound that belonged to no human instrument in the house.
Everything stopped. The music cut. Corey’s voice landed like a hand closing around a bolt. “Positions.”
The room emptied along practiced lines. Byron was already at the front hall, pulling the shot gun from behind the clock tower handing it to Corey. Lucy was with him, heart tapping but not racing.
Patrick flicked the feed live on the mantle as Ethan and Damian slid to their window posts. “South fence,” Patrick said. “One figure.”
They stepped onto the front path. The wards were visible if you’d been taught how to look: faint strands, pulsing slowly, stretched from tree to tree like harp strings in fog.
The figure walked slowly towards the house.
“Don’t come closer,” Byron called. “State your name.”
“Michael,” he said. “I think I'm meant to be here.”
Byron glanced at Lucy. She met his eyes and gave a small nod. Not trust. A calculated yes. “Come closer” lucy said, as he did the words connect, connect started thrumming, “he's one of us” she turned to Byron.
“Step inside,” Byron said.
Michael quickly walked pass nodding. Mandy reset the wards before closing the front door behind her.
“Please come through here” Lucy guided Michael to the room they were once having fun in.
“ I'm sorry” lucy said, before intrusive thought took over she grabbed Michael and in his defence he was caught off guard, Lucy was uncontrollable, Connect she shouted, once again her eyes flared up, the threads of energy weaving between them before Michael could ask what was happening, his head flipped back, and she absorbed his ability. When they released, Michael fell to the floor, he scrambled to the corner “what was that” Lucy gently bent down, that was me learning your ability. Care to explain what it is?” Lucy was being quite abrupt to him, and she could sense an energy, a vibe that wasn't right and it was hard for her to disconnect from that emotion.
“My ability is one that mimics,” Michael said calmly. “I can become you… or anyone else in the room.”
As he spoke, his features shifted. Bone and skin restructured as if sculpted by invisible hands.
Within seconds, Lucy was staring back at herself.
Her posture. Her eyes. Even the faint scar near her brow.
Then he shifted again this time Byron stood where Michael had been, shoulders broad, jaw tight then slowly he returned to his own form.
“Interesting,” Lucy replied, offering a small, measured smile. “That could come in handy.”
But beneath that smile, something darker stirred.
There was an energy around him. A frequency that scratched at her senses.
It was subtle, but her instincts did not whisper; they pressed.
Something in her chest tightened, urging her to test him, to push him, to break through whatever he was hiding.
For a fleeting second, she imagined grabbing him by the throat and forcing the truth out of him.
The thought unsettled her.
This was the battle no one else could see the constant negotiation between power and restraint.
Since her awakening, her senses had sharpened beyond comfort.
She could feel deception before it was spoken.
She could taste fear in the air. And when something felt off, her first instinct was no longer curiosity.
It was dominance.
She did not want to hurt him, but her body reacted as if it needed to. As if eliminating the threat was the simplest solution.
So, she did the only thing that gave her control.
She withdrew.