Chapter 7 #2
“The provincial governor does. We’re quite good friends, did you know?” The mayor grinned, oozing confidence that he had played a winning hand. “He believes in modern politics, merit-based promotion and all that. Despises old families clinging to power.”
And such power it was. She couldn’t even budget for real coffee.
“I want you to take a leave of absence. Immediately,” he said.
“No. Impossible. The equinox is in two days,” she said, shaking her head.
“You have unused holiday time. I checked the books. You’ve never taken a vacation.”
That was true. She wasn’t against the idea of a holiday, but there had always been some reason to keep her working.
“Take your holiday and we’ll put this unpleasant incident behind us,” he said, his tone growing suspiciously pleasant.
“If I refuse?”
Mayor Kelley reached across the desk to his untouched cup of coffee. Looking her directly in the eyes, he pushed it to the edge of the desk where it fell to the floor. “How clumsy of me.”
Nina was not impressed. This needed to end. Now.
“As far as threats go, that is offensively amateurish, Mayor Kelley. I am deeply offended that you did not mention my upcoming election in the fall. You could withdraw your support. I’m sure that you get the business,” she waved a hand, searching for the right word, “contingent to follow your example. Or convince the city council to investigate my office for corruption or whatever fantasy you need to sell. Bribe a couple of people to make outrageous claims and get it published in the Chronicle . If luck is on your side, a paper in Founding might pick it up. Perhaps your good friend the governor could be convinced that I’m unfit and could install a puppet.
You seem like the kind of person who enjoys pulling strings.
I want to say that clearly you’ve been planning to remove me from office?—”
He opened his mouth as if to protest.
“And don’t deny it, we both know it’d be your fondest wish, but implying physical harm? That’s your leverage? I spun four good scenarios off the top of my head and you knocked over a cup like a naughty kitten.”
Mayor Kelley had gone so red that his ears were now scarlet.
Oh dear, he might actually hurt himself.
“Two weeks,” he said, voice cold. “Effective immediately.”
“Or what?”
“The sheriff’s office hasn’t had an audit in some time. It’s my duty to make sure every penny is spent wisely.”
“You want to review the budget? Be my guest,” she said with confidence. No one was playing fast and loose with the books while she was in charge.
“Historic expenses such as pensions will also need to be reviewed,” he replied. A grin spread slowly across his face.
They stared at each other, at an impasse.
He was all bluster but his final threat was effective.
While a deputy, her father had been shot in the knee.
It ended his career and forced him to retire early.
Technically, he hadn’t been on the job long enough to collect a full pension.
At the time, the sheriff and mayor made an exemption.
Was it corruption? Her father was a month short.
He could have spent it at a desk, in pain and barely able to walk, but the sheriff at the time told him not to worry about it.
This mayor? No. He wouldn’t do her family any favors. Her father’s pension would be halved and they’d owe for the years of overpayments. Mayor Kelley threatened nothing less than financial ruin.
Nina rubbed the spot that her spectacles pinched on the bridge of her nose.
Perhaps a respite would do her good. Her temper had been short with the anniversary of Lucas’ death.
Turning Jollett into ash stirred up all manner of uncomfortable emotions.
As much as she wanted to blame everything on Pearson—and he was responsible for much—he did not control how she reacted.
Only she did and her control had been slipping.
“Fine,” Nina answered, her voice equally cold. “I’ll finish the day and make arrangements for my holiday .”
The mayor looked as if he wanted to argue. Instead, he nodded in agreement and opened the office door. In a voice loud enough to carry, he said, “Try not to embarrass yourself.”
Bastard.
Nina tore the front page off the newspaper. Pearson’s smug grin miraculously remained smug as she crumpled up the page and threw it at the closed door.
Anthony
Fort Sweetwater
Anthony gritted his teeth and plucked the scale from his forearm. The malicious little interloper didn’t want to relinquish its grip, but brute force won in the end.
He held the offending item up to the light. It shimmered blue and green.
The first scale appeared yesterday at the bite. He immediately plucked it and the other subsequent scales. This one was farther up his arm, nowhere near the bite.
He disposed of the scale in the wood -burning stove. Firelight licked over the raw and tender skin of his forearm. At the rate the scales were spreading, he’d be covered head to toe in a matter of days.
Just in time for the equinox.
He couldn’t turn. If anyone found out, he’d be as much of a prisoner as Ben Jollett. More so. A trained soldier with decades of experience? Colonel Ashcroft would let a tired old soldier retire, but General Harper? He’d never let such a tool leave.
Every harsh criticism Sheriff Navarre had thrown at him was true. Enlisted monsters were regarded as property. They were wools. Weapons.
Slaves.
His stomach twisted. It was wrong, had been wrong for years, and he had been able to justify it.
Or at least believed the justification from the generals making policy decisions.
The vampire Draven was not dead, no matter what they told the public.
He had escaped and could be amassing a monster army.
The sensible thing—the responsible thing—was for the NPF to build their own monster army.
If anyone found out what Anthony was transforming into, they’d never let him escape.
He peered into the shaving mirror, angling it to view as much as possible. Were his eyes darker? The red slashes on his neck were concerning. At the moment he could hide the scales, but if they appeared on his face? Impossible. One thing was certain: the change in his body was undeniable.
The doctor gave him leave to recover. No one expected him to report for duty anytime soon. His rank afforded him private accommodations. No one would disturb him. He could sequester himself and…
Pain seized his gut, the sudden force of it causing him to drop the mirror. It shattered on the floor. He doubled over, clutching his stomach. Muscles spasmed under his touch. His skin itched and burned. Everything about his body felt wrong, like it was turning itself inside out.
Becoming other.
He couldn’t stay here.
Nina
Sweetwater Point
Wychwood House
Once the sun set, Nina made her way home.
It had taken the rest of the day to make arrangements for her unexpected vacation and ensure coverage for the equinox.
Honestly, she wasn’t expecting trouble. Nexus surges had been quiet since Hal joined up, excluding the incident with Jollett.
Tall, broad, and green, Hal discouraged troublemakers with his presence.
She knew him to be a patient man but he had a frightening visage.
A glare from the deputy orc went a long way to keeping the peace.
Two weeks. Nina had no idea what she was going to do with the time.
She took days off work, of course. She was human.
Her body needed rest. On those days she slept in, had a leisurely breakfast, and napped.
It was enjoyable, but she couldn’t imagine doing that more than two days in a row. Certainly not a fortnight.
She could make social calls, but she wasn’t a socialite, nor did she feel a pressing need to sit in parlors and make small talk.
A visit to her friend Emma DeLacey would be enjoyable, but that would occupy a single afternoon.
Her dilemma regarding what to do with the ample time on her hands remained.
Lucas—because he was on her mind lately—would tell her to get a hobby.
He had grown plants. Everyone in the family had their own special interests.
Her father dabbled with crafting artifacts.
Nothing of a legendary caliber, but small items. She had a set of hairpins that never lost their shape and always stayed put—a legendary quality in her opinion.
Her mother assisted in the workshop, much as she had assisted when they were actively hunting.
She played a mean hand of cards and also did embroidery.
Aunt Prudy often visited her children and was gone for weeks at a time.
When she returned, she always had a new interest. One week, it could be creating an effective poison to be absorbed through the skin; next week, it might be preserving fruit.
Presumably poison -free, but it was also wise to check.
Nina’s interests? She studied the family’s collection of grimoires, the journals written by past witches.
Never wanting to be caught lacking during the hunt, she mastered several weapons.
Exercise to keep her body in fighting form took a great deal of her day, but it wasn’t really an interest. That was her job.
She wouldn’t mind learning about creating artifacts but her father’s workshop was cramped. There wasn’t room for three. She’d rather stick a needle in her eye than take up embroidery. Whatever it was Aunt Prudy was up to lately, Nina did not want to be an accomplice.
She crossed the main thoroughfare, heading toward the river.
The street grew narrow as did the houses.
This neighborhood held the oldest buildings in town.
Architecturally, it was a mishmash of styles.
The town hadn’t developed its own sense of self yet.
The buildings were cobbled together with whatever materials the settlers had on hand.
Metal panels were as common as tar paper over timber. It wasn’t pretty.
Pretty came later, after the settlers figured out that high ceilings helped to keep buildings cool in the summer heat. Wide verandas that wrapped around the house helped provide shade and a relaxing spot to socialize in the evenings.
Nina liked it. She liked the rough, unfinished character of the neighborhood. The older buildings were being torn down one by one and replaced with larger houses more akin to the Sweetwater style. One day, the original houses would only exist in illustrations and daguerreotypes.
Nina’s work as a deputy consumed so much of her that she struggled to find anything of interest beyond sharpening blades and throwing knives.
She hadn’t always been this way. When she was younger and in school in Founding, she enjoyed the bookshops and the clothing boutiques.
Sweetwater Point had tailors and seamstresses, of course, but fashion was always a few years behind what people wore in Founding.
Hard to believe she once cared about fashion.
All her garments were now practical. The last truly fine frock she had made was a green wool dress for Hal and Emma’s wedding.
It was a lovely dress, perfectly respectable, but simple.
Not that she ever went anywhere that required an evening gown, but it would be enjoyable to peruse the shops.
Fun, even, to commission clothing simply because it was beautiful and served no purpose other than to make her feel equally beautiful.
The notion felt outlandish and forbidden. Fun. Sheriff Nina Navarre didn’t have room for fun or frivolous clothing in her life.
Sheriff Navarre also didn’t have a hobby, so maybe pretty, frivolous clothing shouldn’t be dismissed. She had the funds, and the time to visit her cousins, Marcus and Victor, while in Founding.
Yes. A week away wandering bookshops, buying frocks that served no purpose and not worrying about whatever Mayor Kelley plotted. She liked it.
As she turned the corner to her street, she had a plan. There was nothing quite as satisfying as having a good plan.
Wychwood House sat alone, surrounded by a wide green lawn with a mountain ash planted in the four corners of the property.
Three stories tall, it was taller than the neighboring houses.
It had humble beginnings, of course, but had been expanded and remodeled several times.
Now it had quite a stately appearance with a wide veranda, intricate scroll woodwork on the porch, and wood clapboard siding.
Upstairs, the lights burned behind drawn shades, giving the house a drowsy appearance.
Something was wrong.
Nina paused. A figure lurked in the shadows at the side entrance. She reached for the dagger at her side.
“Come out,” she ordered.
Pearson stumbled forward, disheveled with his uniform coat hanging open. The look of illness hung about him: his eyes were glassy and his complexion waxy.
“I didn’t know where else to go,” he said and promptly collapsed to the ground.