Huxley’s head cocks to one side, and I fight the urge to fidget under his assessing gaze. “OK, how can I help?”
“I need to ask you something about… about this town.”
“Oh, for the articles about the festival? Sure, hit me with it.” Huxley grins, leaning against the edge of his desk.
“Um, no.” I clear my throat.Here it goes. “Yesterday someone I interviewed said this is a sanctuary town. Could you explain what that means exactly?”
“You didn’t know before moving here? I thought Kendra would have disclosed that in your interview.”
“The job ad said something about it, but I thought it was just trying to make the town sound nice, you know—come to our small town sanctuary.”
Huxley’s dark brows pinch together in confusion. “Why would you think that? You know the community doesn’t use that word carelessly.”
“The community?”
“The supernatural community, obviously.”
“Yeah, so about that. Until yesterday afternoon, I didn’t know any of this existed.”
“You mean sanctuary towns? How’s that possible? All supes are taught about sanctuary towns—it’s mandatory.”
“No. The um…” Why is this so hard? I saw the proof with my own eyes, but it still feels like someone’s about to pop out from behind my desk and yell gotcha if I really say the ‘d’ word right now. Or the ‘s’ word. Any of the words really. I risk a glance at Huxley’s face to see he’s looking at me expectantly. Right, I was the one talking. Absentmindedly, I reach up to run my fingertips over the surface of my pendant through the fabric of my shirt—a nervous habit I’ve had for as long as I can remember.Just say it. It’s like ripping off a plaster. The faster I get this over with, the less uncomfortable it will be.
Bracing myself, I look Huxley dead in the eye. “The supernatural. I didn’t know the supernatural existed until yesterday.”
His jaw drops open, and his brows practically disappear up into his unruly curls.
“How is that possible?”
“How is what possible?” Emmaline asks, making us both jump.
“Jared didn’t?—”
“Nothing,” I blurt out, not wanting anyone else to know my secret.
Sensing my obvious panic, Huxley nods eagerly. “Right, nothing you need to worry about. Just getting to know Jared here a little better, that’s all.”
“Hmm,” she narrows her eyes, then glides over to her desk without a backward glance.
“Don’t worry about Emmaline. She’s too self-absorbed to remember anything that doesn’t directly affect her. We’ll talk about this more after work. Drinks are on me, OK?”
“Really?”
“Yeah. This must all be quite a shock. No wonder you’re so jumpy.”
I laugh a little at that. “At least I’ve not fainted—that’s a step up from yesterday.”
Huxley snorts. “I’ll bet. Try to focus on your assignment from Kendra for now. We can talk about everything else later, but know that you’re safe here, Jared. That’s what being in a sanctuary town is all about.”
A lump forms in my throat, and I force myself to swallow down the emotions warring within me. Everything I know about the world has changed, and I’m not too proud to admit that I’m scared, not just of being in a town full of supernaturals, but of myself. I’ve not gone out for drinks or anything like that since my attack but, no matter how daunting it is, there’s no way I can turn down this opportunity to get some answers. The mere thought of being in a crowded place makes my palms sweat, but this is important, and I can’t hide forever.
I may not know Huxley, but something in my gut tells me I can trust him. It’s similar to how I felt when I was with Selene, but also different. With Selene I felt an unwavering sense of rightness, of safety. With Huxley, it’s the same as any other gut feeling I get. Well, they’ve got me this far in life. I’m not about to stop listening to my instincts now when I need them most.
“Thank you.” I bob my head gratefully. “I’m going to head out to conduct a few more interviews, but I’ll meet you back here at the end of the day.”
Spending the whole day in town newly aware of the supernatural is eye-opening to say the least. Things I dismissed during my first few days, I now take a second glance at. Like the pink-skinned woman in the town square handing out vouchers for one of the local restaurants—turns out she’s not dangerously sunburnt, she’s actually fuchsia-pink. The guy who owns Bells and Whistles, the shop Selene recommended I get a SIM card from—his unusual eye colour isn’t from coloured contacts. The group of people I saw on Sunday? Yeah, they weren’t LARPing, their wings and horns were real. The more I notice, the more confused I feel.
By the time five o’clock comes around, I’m less jumpy but considerably more irritated with myself that I was so oblivious to the literal magic that was right in front of me. While I can acknowledge it’s perfectly reasonable that the supernatural wasn’t my first, or even fiftieth, guess as to what this town could have been hiding, now I’m in on the secret there are signs everywhere I look.
