Please let her be okay.
As my claws scrabble across slick shingles, I realize that this panic in my chest is from fear of something happening to the fiery witch. That she’s come to matter to me in small ways, even if I matter very little to her.
And the idea that she could be hurt even now …
No. I refuse to entertain it.
Having reached the skylight, I try to shove my head past the protruding twigs and destroyed roof to get a sense of how much damage is inside. How much has been done to Mor Shelly.
“Gods-damn it!” a lovely voice snarls.
And there she is, by a closed door, trying to pull debris away from the exit.
I let out a snarly cough to get her attention.
Mor turns to look up at me. She freezes, mouth going slack.
Gods, what must she think with my horrendous face peering down at her while she’s trapped? And I’m not one of the mythics who can speak while in my nonhuman form. I gather the power to shift back, even if it will leave me butt-ass naked on her roof in the middle of a storm. But before I can morph my face to look human again, she lets out an audible exhale.
“Bo! Hells, you scared me for a second. All I saw were your eyes.”
She pushes damp hair off her forehead, and I spy speckles of blood on her skin.
She’s injured.
The knowledge makes me want to tear the storm clouds from the sky and ripped them to pieces for daring to harm the strong, kind witch.
“Can you help me get out? The door is blocked.” She waves at the splintered rubble keeping her in the room, talking to me like my monstrous visage is commonplace. Nothing to be remarked upon or concerned about.
The reaction makes me feel … things.
But she’s talking again, so I don’t have time to decipher exactly what those things are.
“There are plastic tarps in the basement. Maybe if I can cover the floor of the room, it’ll keep water from getting downstairs.” She stares around at the rain collecting near her feet.
I scrabble off the roof, leaping to the ground in one smooth move, then shift back to my human form before pushing inside the house, regretting how I have to break the knob to do so. I mentally put it on my list as an item to repair. Mor loves her little skeleton key, and she’ll be sad if the lock is ruined.
Taking the stairs three at a time, I climb up to the third level, only to find Jack and Ame working on freeing my witch as she shouts directions to them. That task covered, I pick a new destination, hustling to the basement and easily finding the plastic tarps on the shelf above the laundry machine. A toolbox sits in the corner, and I grab that too.
Meanwhile, I’m grateful I haven’t caught anyone’s attention while I’m running around nude.
Outside once more, I retake my monster form and scale to the roof again, tools in tow, held by my tail. When I peer into the bedroom, Mor is gone, and the place is empty, which means I don’t have to worry about falling debris when I wrench the branch out of the roof and fling it far away from the home.
Then I’m human and naked again, needing opposable thumbs.
In my birthday suit, I proceed to stretch the plastic tarps over the hole in the roof and nail them into place, trying to secure the protection as good as possible. The rain chills my skin, and the rumble of thunder mixes with the pound of blood in my ears.
Eventually, I’m as satisfied as I can be that the house is mostly waterproof again.
The rain is still coming down in heavy sheets, so I make the shift once more, feeling the drag of so much magic usage against my muscles. Normally, I don’t alter my shape so rapidly and so many times over a short period. I hope I don’t get stuck in my monster skin as I wait to regain strength.
Maneuvering carefully, I descend from the roof, only to find Mor, Ame, and Jack waiting for me on the front porch. Expressions are some variations of surprise and shock.
“Did you just patch the roof?” Mor asks, her voice breathless.
But I’m too focused on the blood trickling from a split on the bridge of her nose to bother nodding.
Instead, I force my weary muscles to change once again until I’m standing as a human man, sweat mixing with rain, trying not to pant at the pain.
