Chapter 10
GRIFFITH
“You don’t have to chauffeur us,” Carl says from the passenger seat of his SUV.
The guy prefers to drive around in something other than his cruiser when off duty, so he keeps this vehicle in one of the garage bays next to my boat. The moment he picked up the keys, I snatched them from his fingers.
“You just got off a night shift, and your sister is half asleep.” I flick my blinker on as we make a turn, though there’re so few cars on this road that I don’t really need to bother. “This is a public service.”
Carl huffs a dark laugh. In the rearview, I watch Clementine lean against her dog, eyes closed more often than they’re open. After the interrogation by the big players in town, I wanted to send the Divos siblings off to bed.
But no one was going to let town security lapse for a nap.
Besides, Clementine will sleep better if we can find her a permanent mend for that wound.
I turn onto a two-lane road that will take us to the Of the Wing territory on Lake Galen.
An area only winged mythics are supposed to permanently inhabit, but the Shelly sisters—two witches—received special permission to live in a house formerly owned by a dragon.
Just ahead are the taillights of Selena’s car.
We don’t need to be escorted by the witch in order to visit the Folk Haven Public Mythic Library.
The place may be owned and run by a witch, but Morgana Shelly opened her collection to any mythic or human in the know.
Plus, her mate is my buddy, Bo, a monster I’ve known since I was a toddler.
As we drive the twisty way through the woods, breaks in the branches hint at sparkling Lake Galen. The spring temperatures are warming fast, and I’m looking forward to a dip in the clear waters.
My attention slips to the backseat again, and I think about Clementine’s six months of never taking her other form.
Never swimming like she was meant to. When I wished that she’d leave Folk Haven, I forgot how that meant she’d likely settle somewhere that she’d need to hide her mythic form for the rest of her life.
There’s a freedom here in our town. A community that protects one another and creates a safe space to be ourselves.
Sure, not everyone in the town gets along, and there are outside visitors, so we don’t have werewolf parades down Main Street, but this place is special. And Clementine hasn’t existed in this supportive environment for nine years.
Seems selfish now to wish that she would leave. I shift uncomfortably in my seat, guilt like a thorn in the butt of my pants.
Selena turns down a gravel drive, and I follow her. We come upon an impressive Victorian house that looks like a home from another time period. On the front door is a gold plaque that reads: Folk Haven Public Mythic Library.
Hopefully, early in the morning means we’ll have less of an audience.
Carl reaches back to give his sister’s leg a gentle squeeze, and she jerks awake, eyes wild. Once she absorbs her surroundings, the tension eases out of her muscles, and she climbs out of the car alongside us, Shrimp on her heels.
Before our group can even mount the stairs, the front door opens, and a petite redhead with pale skin and big green eyes walks out. She’s cradling a steaming mug, wearing a flowery robe, and she doesn’t seem surprised to see us.
“Hi, Selena. You want to talk to Mor.” The redhead says the last as a statement rather than a question, but that’s often how the youngest Shelly communicates.
With an air that she knows more than you’ve revealed, only not in a condescending way.
“She’s in the research room.” Her eyes alight on the rest of us.
“Hi, Griffith. Hi, Carl. Hi, stranger.” She gives all of us a wave, then turns to yell over her shoulder, “Lucky! There’s a dog! Bring bacon!”
And only a moment later, a black cat comes scampering out of the house, slice of bacon in its mouth.
The feline leaps down the steps, landing in front of Shrimp.
It drops the bacon, then proceeds to purr and twine around the dog’s legs.
Shrimp appears perfectly happy with the affection and immediately accepts the meaty offering, the strip disappearing in one bite.
“Your familiar is too friendly,” Selena scolds as she climbs the steps and enters the house.
The young woman only shrugs and sips from her mug.
“Clem,” Carl starts, “this is Ame Shelly. Ame, this is my sister, Clementine.”
“I go by Clem,” she corrects.
“Nice to meet you, Clem. You want to find the cure for a wound.”
Clementine blinks in astonishment.
“It’s my magic,” Ame explains. “I can see people’s wants and desires.
Normally, I block it all out, but it’s morning, I haven’t finished my tea, and my werewolf white-noise machine is in the kitchen, cooking the bacon.
” She smiles at the two all-black animals that are now nose to nose.
“Your dog is welcome inside. If you see a raccoon, that’s Charm, and they live here too.
Let’s go find a comfy chair for you, Clem.
” With that, Ame turns and disappears through the open doorway.
“A raccoon?” Clementine asks in a whisper as she heads up the stairs herself, walking slowly, as if she’s still in pain. She probably is. Without thinking about it, I move to her side and offer my hand. She blinks at me in bewilderment. “What are you doing?”
“Offering you support,” I grunt, wondering why my face feels so hot all of a sudden.
“Oh.” She glances down at the last step. “I’m good.” She steps up it. “Thanks though.”
“Sure.”
I let my hand drop and don’t meet Carl’s eyes even though I can feel them on the side of my face. He hurries behind her, and I follow at the rear with the cat, who’s leading a happily panting Shrimp.
I’ve visited the library a handful of times, mainly to say hi to Bo, so I’m familiar with the interior that’s been taken over by bookshelves and cozy reading nooks.
The savory scent of bacon emanates from the rear of the house, but Ame is in a room to the left, fluffing throw pillows before arranging them strategically in an armchair.
She faces Clementine and points to the seat. “That’s for you. You can fall asleep if you want. I believe Selena is going to ask us to contact our sister-in-law Zara to come over to draw something. That’ll take a bit.”
“I don’t need to sleep,” Clementine claims, staying standing, even as she grips the scruff of Shrimp’s neck.
“You want to.” Ame picks up her mug and breathes in the steam. “You want a safe place to rest. This library has its own wards. Dragon made. Nothing will hurt you here.”
“Stop telling me what I want,” Clementine snaps. “It’s creepy.”
Ame drops her stare to her mug, and I can see a flash of regret flicker in Clementine’s eyes.
There’s a shift in the air, a powerful presence entering the space, and I know by scent who it is before I turn.
Jack stands in the doorway.
The werewolf is tall but more lean than muscular. His eyes are dark and hooded, his features closer to the East Asian heritage of his mother rather than his white father. Jack is the son of Baron, alpha of the Folk Haven pack, and he could easily become the next alpha if he wanted.
But the only claim he wants is on his mate, Ame.
You do not insult his mate.
Despite knowing I’d probably lose in a match against him, I shift myself in front of Clementine. Protecting her from the fallout of her defensive words. Carl mirrors my move, aware that his role in law enforcement holds no sway over the wolf.
“Ame,” Jack says, voice low, a hint of warning in the tone. Not for her, but for us.
The red-haired witch crosses the room, unhurried. She pauses in front of him, her chin tilted up. “Kiss?”
His focus shifts entirely to her, and he bends over to place a quick kiss on her mouth. Even in the small display of affection, I can read an epic love.
One I wish I could have for myself.
Not with Ame. Coveting her would be a good way to get my intestines ripped out through my ass. But I’ve longed for a partner most of my adult life, and dating in a small town isn’t getting me anywhere.
Ame’s hand that’s not holding her mug rests flat on Jack’s chest. “I was being pushy because she has a sweet dog and I wanted to be friends. It’s my fault.”
“I’m sorry.” In a voice husky from exhaustion, Clementine speaks to Ame through the gap between my and Carl’s shoulders.
“I’ve been living among humans for nine years.
I’m not used to casual magic usage. And you’re right; I’m tired.
” In a version of a peace offering, Clementine settles herself onto the pillow throne Ame made for her.
“My dog’s name is Shrimp, and he’d love to be your friend.
” She sinks back, eyes closing with a sigh.
“Don’t bother with me though. I’m not worth the effort. I’ll only fuck it up.”
Then, as far as I can tell, she passes out.
Her words linger in the air, and when I glance Carl’s way, I can see the worry in his furrowed brow. I know if he could fix every single one of his sister’s problems through sheer force of will, he would. But instead, he has to watch as she suffers and rebels and hurts.
Before my resentment toward her can return, I step out into the hall and ask Ame in a hushed voice, “Where’s Bo? And Mor?”
With her hand in Jack’s, she leads the way deeper into the house. Carl wavers in the doorway, obviously torn between watching over his sister and joining the group trying to fix things.
“I can tell you what we talk about,” I offer.
Carl glances between me and the slumbering Clementine. “Actually, could you stay with her?”
“Me?” The idea of being alone with her in this room, which doesn’t have enough airflow to properly clear out her scent, has my body heat notching up in an uncomfortable way.
Because I dislike her, obviously.
He nods. “I want to hear all the details. But I can’t leave her alone.” His eyes lock with mine. “I trust you.”
Of course he’d pull out the trust card.
Stiffly, I return to the room and settle into my own chair. Carl’s shoulders drop an inch even though tension still radiates through his body. I don’t think the guy will fully relax until the hunters are permanently dealt with.
“Thank you.” Then he’s gone, and I’m left babysitting.
I pull out my phone for something to do, only to find I have no reception here.
That happens a lot around Lake Galen, internet and GPS flaking out.
With a sigh, I pocket my phone and lean back in my seat.
The cat, Lucky, jumps into my lap, curls up, and appears to fall asleep.
Shrimp sprawls on the floor beside Clementine’s chair.
With nothing else to do, I watch the woman sleep and try not to think about how much I always want her to feel safe enough to doze off.