CHAPTER SEVEN
Shadow
As the sound of Kayla’s car fades in the distance, I halt for the evening and store the partially stripped door in the shed.
My shoulders thrum with the pleasant ache of labor.
Most of the videos I found made it clear humans use power tools for these types of endeavors, but a few people still work wood by hand.
The notion appeals on several levels. It gives me a chance to practice my dexterity, since having hands is still somewhat new to me.
It’s also satisfying to labor like this, to see something discarded returned to functional beauty using only a few simple tools and my effort—the wood satiny when I check the smoothness of the surface.
I know the patience of a good stalk, the effort of hunting to provide meat to fill my pack’s bellies.
I know running for miles upon miles to deliver a message.
Yet the pleasure of making a physical object is another thing lost to my people when we were unable to shift.
And if doing everything by hand also slows down the process, giving me more time to work shirtless in front of Kayla? And also gives me another few nights with no door between our bedrooms? I smirk. I’m simply playing the game on several levels.
After a quick shower and change, I walk the shadow roads into town, stepping out onto an empty area of the green. A gentle breeze of balmy summer air carries the combined scents of coffee, baked goods, ale, and pizza, yet I’m immediately transfixed by a sweeter note.
Across the lawn, Kayla sits cross-legged on the ground. She’s surrounded by the tulips, pumpkins, and hearts, who’ve stopped their play for the chance to be with her.
As she traces her fingers over each of them, a look of awe softens her face, making it achingly beautiful in the golden evening light.
Magic ripples through the air as the pumpkins press close, and the tulips hug her with little leaf arms. The hearts land on her shoulders and purple hair, like a cluster of butterflies lured by her beauty into thinking she’s a flower.
I fade backward into a small stand of dogwoods, unwilling to interrupt this moment of discovery for her. I can’t tear my gaze away, transfixed by Kayla, my talented, powerful wife. Her magic created all these creatures.
A few moments later, the other witches usher her into the bookstore, and I can once again move. A grin splits my face as I enter Slice of Life to be welcomed by the strong scent of garlic and the high cry of, “Pizza!”
Murals of a Faerie forest caught at sunset decorate the walls, and humans and fae fill every wooden table, talking and eating in a happy thrum of sound.
“Shadow!” Blue breaks away from the flock of pixies who just delivered a pizza to fly over to me.
She hangs in front of my face, about the size of my hand, everything about her a glowing light blue, from her skin and hair to her clothes, made from the leaves of the blue birch of Alarria.
Even her opaque moth wings glow blue with an inner light. “I heard you moved.”
“Of course you did.” Pixies are the gossips of Faerie.
“You’re not allowed to move.” She wags a tiny finger at me. “You’re one of my best customers!”
“I’m still living in town, and of course I’m still going to buy your pizza.” I make my tone soothing. Pixies might be small, but their fierceness when riled should never be underestimated. “In fact, tonight, I’ll take an extra-large.” Woodworking is hungry business.
She narrows her eyes. “What toppings?”
“Your choice,” I say, knowing she likes trying out new combinations before adding them to the menu.
“Okay!” Her expression brightens, and she zips toward the kitchen, flying so quickly she becomes a streak of light.
While I wait, the pixies deliver a pizza to the wood nymph Eolar and his human boyfriend, the one who’s always cycling everywhere. Six of them ring the circular platter, flying it from the kitchen to deposit it onto the table with an exultant cry of, “Pizza!”
Chuckles fill the restaurant, and I have to wonder what the protection spell makes the non-magical humans see when it comes to a flock of pixies.
They repeat the happy cry as they bring me a flat, square box that smells of basil and garlic.
My mouth waters, and I hurry outside and stride down the sidewalk to The Thirsty Tusk.
The orcs recreated one of their pubs here in town, the entire interior finished in a honey-colored wood that resembles their heart tree cottages in Faerie.
I weave my way through full tables and chairs to grab a stool at the long wooden bar.
“Shadow.” Jace pivots on the seat beside me.
The dragon matches me in height and build if you don’t count the two dark horns spiraling upward from his head.
He can shift all the way to a man but chooses not to, so he retains the horns, blue wings, and tail of his weredragon form.
I don’t know if it’s because it’s more comfortable for him to keep some of his dragon characteristics or if he does it to match our friend Luke, who can’t shift all the way to his fae form.
“Good evening, Jace. Looking good.”
His creased dress slacks, button-up shirt, and embroidered waistcoat look like they were made at some point in the last century, which is a definite improvement over the three-hundred-year-old garb he wore when he first came to Earth.
The pub owner grunts a hello and slams a tankard of ale onto the bar top beside me.
As an orc, Thorvinn stands a good seven feet, all of it heavy muscle covered in deep-green skin and topped with long, straight black hair.
He wears the orc clothing of Faerie, a dark-blue linen tunic and brown leather pants.
The only thing missing is his swordbelt, which he keeps in the backroom.
A pair of tusks bracket his permanent frown.
I grin anyway and salute him with my drink before taking a healthy swig.
No one makes better beer than an orc, and the pleasantly hoppy brew is the perfect summer ale.
My stomach growls, and I tear open my pizza box.
Written inside the lid is: pesto with shrimp and feta.
Are the shrimp the pink and white things?
I shrug. It’s not like I’m a picky eater, and it smells amazing.
The first bite is nirvana, and I moan as I immediately take a second, fangs ripping through the yeasty bread.
This is yet another thing my people missed out on by being unable to shift: the wider food choices available to our fae forms. So many new flavors and textures!
I finish off two pieces in record time. The sharp cheese pairs well with the basil, and the shrimp are delicious.
“You have to try this.” I hold out one of the pink curls.
“What is it?” The dragon’s ice-blue eyes narrow as he tries to focus on it.
“It’s called a shrimp.”
“That tells me nothing. What is it?”
“It’s damned delicious, is what it is.” I pop it into my mouth and make a production of chewing, smacking my lips together.
“It’s seafood,” Rune’s deep voice says as he takes the stool on my other side. “Autumn taught me how to make a pasta dish with them the other day.”
“My friend.” I clap the werewolf on the shoulder. Tall and muscular, he has tan skin and long brown hair in his fae form. We met when we fought side by side in Faerie, and after Naomi, he’s my oldest friend on Earth. “I wasn’t sure you’d make it.”
“Of course he made it,” Luke growls as he takes the stool beside Jace. The grumpy dragon has auburn hair that coordinates with his red wings and tail. “What else is he going to do while his woman has her witchy meeting?”
“Your woman is at it too,” Rune grumbles. “And I don’t think we’re supposed to call them that.”
“They’re all at the meeting,” Severin says, taking a tankard from Thorvinn with a nod of thanks.
With skin as pale as mine and inky black hair, he almost resembles one of his elven ancestors, but the dark tattoos swirling across his skin mark him as shadow fae.
King of a desolate realm, he brought his palace and people to Earth to make a home here.
“Including my wife.” He says the last word with relish.
“Which is what you can safely refer to your partners as once you marry.”
“Autumn wants a fall wedding.” Rune takes a hearty drink.
“We were going to wait until Valentine’s Day, but with a babe on the way, we’ll have it as soon as Skye’s aunts finalize their plans,” Luke says.
“I’ve got you both beat.” I polish off another bite of pizza and smirk. “I got married yesterday.”
“Like hell you did,” the werewolf growls.
“I didn’t realize you were successfully courting anyone, let alone that you’d gone through an appropriate engagement period,” Jace says.
“Engagement, schmagement, as the humans say.” I wave away his words. At his confused expression, I add, “Things aren’t so formal these days. You need to watch more TV to get up to speed.”
“I’d rather read.”
“TV’s faster.”
“Books will always be superior,” Luke grumbles. “Yet he’s not wrong. Television offers a quicker understanding of human culture.”
“Wait.” I press a hand to my chest in feigned shock. “Do my ears deceive me, or did you just say I’m right?”
The red dragon glares.
“I should get a T-shirt made.” I laugh. “One of those funny ones such as my wife wears. It could say: Don’t argue with me. Luke says I’m right.”
“About one thing.” He holds up a single claw-tipped finger. “One.”
“Come on. Tell us about the marriage. How’d you pull it off?” Rune digs his elbow into my side. “I assume it’s Kayla. You’ve been sniffing after her long enough.”
“Who else would it be? Of course it’s Kayla.” I grin, cheeks stretched wide. I tell them all about how I chased away all the other potential roommates to ensure she chose me.
Rune growls. “You went too far, cat.”
I roll my eyes. Cu sith, historically the King’s Guard, are always so damned noble. Too noble, if you ask me. They have no feel for the game of courtship.
“It worked out for the best, hound,” I reply, as we fall back into our older patterns of bickering. “The house is sentient and magical. No regular human could have lived there.”
“My protection spell is excellent.” Severin glares at me. “It ensures the entire town is safe.”
“All of the photographs on the wall move constantly. Victoria bangs cupboards and doors. She locks people in whenever she feels like it.” I snort.
“Your spell is very powerful, and we’re all thankful for it.
But I’ve seen how it works. When regular humans are exposed to something magical, they get this confused expression on their face for a few seconds, then shake their heads and move on, telling themselves it must have been nothing.
How could someone live comfortably in the place that’s supposed to be their home with that kind of constant confusion? ”
Luke grunts his agreement grunt, and Severin’s glare softens as he tips his head, indicating I’ve won the point.
“Anyway, we need a better way to talk to the house. Something we can use in every room.”
“I don’t know of any sentient buildings like Victoria,” Severin says.
“Me either,” Luke adds. “But I’ll research it in my library.”
“I don’t know about buildings, but I can make my ice sculptures move.
” A burst of magic fills the air as Jace breathes out a small gust of ice, catching it in his hand.
With another flash of power, a tiny dragon forms. He sets it on the bar top, and it takes a couple of hesitant steps before lifting its wings.
“Is it sentient?” I lean over to get a closer look. The detail is astounding—there are even individual scales carved into the surface of the ice.
“No. It doesn’t think or feel. It’s for the best, since they don’t last long when it’s as warm as summer.
” The blue dragon points to the shiny trail of melted water that makes up the miniature creature’s footsteps.
“But it does mean I have some affinity for animating magic. And even if I can’t help in that respect, I’m something of an expert on translation spells.
I can come by the house and see if I may be of service. ”
“That would be fantastic.” I clap him on the shoulder. “Anything to keep the house happy.”
Because the marriage contract Victoria created is the only reason Kayla let me stay. I want my full month of living with my witchy beauty, so I have plenty of chances to seduce her and win her over.
She will be mine.