Still, they were all tame scenes until now. This was a risk.
Delivery Guy takes his time observing my pornographic arrangement, fists planted on his hips, intoxicating chuckles leaking from that glorious beard. I went so far as to blow up an air mattress and fit it with sheets—rumpled from vigorous sex play, of course—and pillows and condom wrappers.
I am committed to my craft. Just like the creators of the figurines, apparently, because when I pulled down Frankenstein’s monster’s pants, I discovered an apple bottom, green as a Granny Smith. No dick though. Bummer.
Delivery Guy finally turns toward my house, and I step back from my window even though I know he can’t see me through the wildly expensive glamour I paid a witch to equip the glass with. Even if he could spot me, according to Heath—the bear shifter who co-owns Coffee & Claws—the guy wouldn’t care.
“He’s my cousin. A shifter. So, don’t be worried none about him seeing you,” Heath said when I called a few weeks back about getting food delivered to my place.
Yeah, right.
Even among the massive number of mythical creatures who live in Folk Haven, I’m an oddity. Most mythics have a human form they can change into to easily navigate the world. I’m not so lucky. And my inability to blend in freaks other mythics out. Like being around me will somehow screw them up too.
A loud knock sounds on my front door as I settle on the top step and gaze down at the portal I let less than a handful of people through. Delivery Guy isn’t one of them.
“Hey, Satine!” His voice booms through the thick oak door, undeterred by the barrier. He says my name as if he knows me when we’ve never conversed other than my odd artistic displays in my front yard. “Your food’s here! And I gotta say”—he keepstalking to my door, assured that I’m listening, which, of course, I am—“ten outta ten. No contest. My favorite by far. I always knew they were a bunch of horny dudes.”
My cheeks ache from grinning so hard, and I bury my face in my hands even though he can’t see.
“Hope you enjoy your sandwich. Better get out here soon, before the ants get to it. I snuck a bear claw in the bag ’cause Heath had a few fresh from the oven. Thought you’d like something sweet at the end of your meal.”
I don’t say anything. No,Thank you, or,That was thoughtful, or,Can I touch your luxurious beard?Just keep my silence, like always.
“All right. I’ll leave you be.” The sound of his heavy boot on the gravel of my drive lets me know the best part of my week is coming to an end.
I don’t bother using the stairs, instead extending my wings and gliding down to the first floor. I peek out a lower window to watch as he retreats to his moped. The door will stay closed until his taillight disappears down my wooded drive.
Nibbling on the sharp point of my thumb’s claw, I wait for the puny roar of his scooter’s engine, fighting a smile as the compact machine dips under the weight of his broad body.
Five, four, three, two, one …I arbitrarily count down, as if I can guess the exact moment the key will turn.
But I guessed wrong because there’s no thrum of an engine coming to life.
I count again. And another time.
Then, I stumble back a step when Delivery Guy stands from his moped.
“What are you doing?” I whisper the panicked question to myself.
I want him to go. But I alsodon’twant him to go. And that confusion, along with his deviation from routine, spikes my pulse.
From the safety of my home, I watch the shifter raise his arm in the air, turning back and forth, as if searching the sky for something. That’s when I see the phone clutched in his grip and let out a groan.
There’s no way he’s going to get reception this far out.
Delivery Guy strolls toward my door.
Oh no. Oh no, no, no.I’m not ready for this. Maybe one day, after tons of preparation and at least a week of psyching myself up mentally. But sprung out of nowhere?
“Hey, Satine?” A gentle yet decisive knock sounds on my door, as if he knows I’m standing just on the other side. “My ride won’t start, and I don’t have service out here. I’m sorry to ask it of you, but could you help a guy out? Just looking to use your landline to give my buddy a call.”
A response. He requires a response.
I can talk to him. Talking isn’t seeing. My voice is normal enough. No reason for him to cringe away at that.
Now, I only have to deal with the mortification of him knowing I’ve been lurking, watching him this whole time. But what’s my other option? Stay quiet and make him hike miles back to town?
I’m a monster, but I’m not monstrous.
