I never thought being a Shelly was too big of a deal, but it seems like I’ve rewired Bo’s entire emotional grid. Every so often, he’ll bring my hand up to his mouth and press a kiss against the back before resettling our clasped palms in his lap. When I shiver at the cold wind, mixed with spray from lake water, Bo drapes his free arm around my shoulders and draws me into the shielding warmth of his body.
And I think I want this boat ride to go on for forever.
But of course, it can’t. Owen turns us down an inlet and then navigates into a long, narrow cove. The banks spike up high on either side of us, which means the water is probably still pretty deep.
We go around one more turn, and up ahead, I spot a small floating dock. A few Jet Skis are tied to it, leaving just enough room for Owen’s pontoon. The selkie skillfully maneuvers his vessel into an open spot, and using his own rope this time, he disembarks and ties the boat to the dock.
“We’re meeting up at the house,” Owen explains, pointing to a set of switchback steps that cut up the steep bank.
“This … this is Monster territory,” Bo murmurs, staring around, probably trying to orient himself after the boat ride.
I always find it hard to connect where roads lead versus where sailing on the lake ends us.
“Right you are,” Owen agrees a moment before we hear the repetitive noise of large, flapping wings.
A blue being descends, landing in a crouch on the dock so smoothly that the wooden surface barely rocks.
When the new arrival stands, I stare at a blue creature with a feminine figure, bald head, and scales instead of skin. Their eyes—a murky purple mass—land on the monster at my side.
“Bo Folan?”
38
Bo
“Satine?”I whisper the name, not quite believing what I’m seeing.
The Satine I remember was a young girl, though still covered in blue scales with bat-like wings popping out of holes in the back of her altered shirts.
She was not this proud figure, flying freely with a carefree grin on her slim lips.
“I didn’t realizeyouwere the monster the Shellys freed! I’m sorry. I would’ve come to visit you if I’d known.” She lunges forward and wraps me in a strong hug. “Hells, you look exactly the same.”
“You don’t,” I blurt.
She backs up, laughing a joyful noise I wasn’t sure I’d ever hear from the shy monster, hidden away from most of the world because of her appearance. My webbed digits are nothing compared to what Satine is working with. She’ll never pass for human.
“That’s what seventeen years does. You grow up.” She tilts her head toward the witch at my side. “Hi. I’ve seen you around, but we’ve never met. I’m Satine.”
She thrusts out her blue hand, and Mor immediately accepts the shake.
“Morgana Shelly. But you can call me Mor. I run the Mythic Library.”
“I know.” She sighs. “I’ve been dying to go.”
“Come anytime you want. It’s mythics only.”
That earns Mor another grin, and then Satine reaches out and grabs my arm.
“I’m so glad you’re free. And that you’re back. I missed you when I thought you’d left.”
I blink in surprise. Satine missed me? Griffith claimed the same, but I still have trouble believing it.
Although that’s probably my own insecurities. Maybe I put too much weight on how the adults of Folk Haven thought of me. Seems the younger generation didn’t care so much.
“Glad to be back,” I mumble.
“Come on. Most everyone is here.” Satine guides us toward the steps, walking this time rather than flying, though I’m sure it would be quicker.
