Chapter 5
CLEMENTINE
If there was any way I could have gotten out of this mess without involving my brother, I would have. Carl has had to deal with enough because of me over the years.
I thought when I finally left Folk Haven, he would be free of the drama my teenage self couldn’t seem to help but cause.
Yet here I am, back in my hometown, trouble hooked to my tailgate.
At least I’ve matured enough to own my mistakes rather than try to brush them off, like my old habit.
“A few weeks ago, I met a man at a concert.” I pull out my phone, intending to show him a picture, only to remember that the screen is wrecked. With a sigh, I slide it back into my pocket. “He seemed nice. Normal. We went out on a couple of dates.”
Griffith lets out a grunt that sounds like disapproval, and I level a glare at him. The guy is acting like I’m still an irresponsible teenager. But it’s been nine years, and he doesn’t know me anymore.
“What happened?” Carl is only curious and concerned, not judgmental—because my brother is the most understanding person in the world.
I could tell him I went out with a street mime, and he’d just say, Can’t wait to catch his next performance.
“I met up with him, and when we left a bar this guy approached us. He gave me bad vibes. Like I thought we were going to get mugged.”
Now, this brings out a darker noise from my brother’s throat, and Griffith scowls at the floor.
“But then he said my date’s name—Luke.” I thought it was a handsome name. Now I loathe it. “Spoke to him like he knew him.”
The scene is clear in my mind, still fresh, knitted into my brain with adrenaline threads.
“Look at you, Luke.” The man approaching us in the dim parking lot sauntered a step closer. “Barely finished training, and you already found one.”
Found one?
I turned to Luke, confusion and a hint of fear curdling the beers I’d drunk in my gut.
The man I’d thought as boyishly handsome at the beginning of the date had become stony and remote when I wasn’t watching.
A mouth that had charmed me with smiles and facts about my favorite bands sat in a hard, straight line.
“She’s mine,” he growled.
That was when I knew I’d misjudged him in every way, and I did not like this revelation.
“What is she?” the guy asked, unconcerned with Luke’s claiming of me.
His eyes tracked over my body, and I could feel his attention under my skin, as if he were imagining how to flay me.
“I’ve got a new toy I’ve been wanting to try.
” Pulling out a jeweled dagger, he wore a clown-wide grin, the eagerness mixed with a weapon sickening.
“You might need an extra pair of hands to take her down.”
The only advantage I had was surprise. I lunged forward and rammed my booted foot into the knife wielder’s stomach.
There would be no taking me anywhere.
“Clem!” Luke shouted from behind me.
That was the last thing he said before my knuckles met his throat, sending him into a choking fit a moment before my right fist smashed his nose. He dropped to his knees.
But with my focus on Luke, I didn’t realize the mysterious attacker had recovered, until I felt a pain like fire in my side. Turning, I found him on his feet, weapon soaked with my blood.
“I would’ve been a goner if it wasn’t for a bachelorette party.”
The three mythics listening to my tale blink in shock.
“A bachelorette party?” Griffith’s voice is pure disbelief.
I nod, crossing my arms over my chest and trying not to wince when the move tugs at the temporary fix Madeline worked on my side.
“Yep. They came out of the bar and saw a guy waving a knife at an unarmed woman.” I gesture toward myself.
“And the whole group pepper-sprayed the shit out of him and Luke.”
The little bottles they wielded were pink and bedazzled. I think they were party favors.
“I ran, got in my car, went straight home. That was when I realized my wound wasn’t healing.
” Most mythics don’t have instantaneous regeneration, but my skin should have at least started to grow back.
“Also that my phone was shattered.” Probably from when I’d dropped it after I landed my first kick.
Griffith mutters a curse as he rubs his fingers over his mouth.
Carl steps forward and gently gathers me into a hug. “I’m sorry, Clem. I wish I had been there.”
“Don’t apologize.” I hug him back even though it hurts my side. “This isn’t your fault.”
“How the fuck did you end up with a hunter boyfriend?” Griffith growls at me—because, of course, that’s the conclusion he came to.
“It was three dates,” I hiss at him, slipping out of Carl’s arms so I can hit the wolf with a proper scathing look. “And how the hell was I supposed to know what he was?”
“Maybe you should have chosen celibacy.”
I snort at the utter ridiculousness of that, then sober.
“When I realized Luke knew my full name and where I lived, I packed up Shrimp and the essentials and headed here. I figured he and any other hunters he calls in would lose me behind the wards if they did try to give chase and that I could warn you all to be on the lookout.”
Madeline lets out a dry laugh, lacking any true humor. “Bad time to bring trouble this way. The wards are failing.”
I gape, punched in the gut by the shock of the reveal. “They never—” I shake my head. “They can’t be.”
“I assure you, they can.” Madeline crosses to a liquor cabinet and pours herself what looks like a hearty dose of vodka.
“Our last witches with ward specialties passed away. Old age. Can’t be helped.
” She takes an impressively large swallow.
After smacking her lips, she continues, “The coven is working on it, but a permanent solution has yet to be found.”
Shit. Shit, shit, shit.
This is truly bringing trouble to Carl’s doorstep. To the entire town’s.
“I’m sorry,” I tell my brother. “I didn’t know.”
“Reckless,” Griffith mutters. “As always.”
I ignore the aggravating wolf as I mentally plot out a new plan. “I’ll give you the best descriptions of the men I can. All the information I have. Then I’ll leave.”
Carl frowns. “Like hell you will.”
“I can’t stay. A little bit of research, and they’ll figure out where I grew up. They’ll follow me here.”
“You don’t know that. But even if they do, whether you’re here or not doesn’t change the danger of having a hunter show up in town.” Carl exchanges a look with Griffith.
“I’ll call The Council.” The werewolf slips his phone from his pocket. “And Owen.”
“Owen MacNamara?” The guy is a selkie, a seal shifter mythic, whose kind generally lie low. I think I remember Carl saying Owen owns the local recycling company. “What are you calling him for?”
Griffith captures my eyes with his, and I bristle at the condemnation I see in them.
“We’ve been preparing for a danger like this. I should’ve guessed you’d be the one to finally bring it down on us.”