Stepping in close to the door, I finally break the silence on my end of our relationship. “I can call you the mechanic.”
He doesn’t need to be the one to use my phone, I reason. I can just as easily contact whoever he needs.
“Hey, Satine!” His voice vibrates with something like excitement. “Youarethere! This is so cool. I wasn’t sure.”
“Yeah.” That comes out too breathy to be heard, so I try again. “Yeah, I’m here. I’ll go call the auto shop.” I step as ifto move farther into my house when, really, I could use my satellite phone here if I wanted to. I don’t have a landline, just a supercharged signal on my high-tech device.
“Wait!” His shout has me pausing. “Could you call my friend instead? They’ve got a truck I can toss my baby in the back of. No need to get Francis out here, charging me an arm and a paw.”
My best guess is, Francis is a local mechanic. I wouldn’t know because I barely drive my car anywhere and can change the oil myself.
“Sure.” I lean my shoulder against the door. “What’s their number?”
And please don’t ask me why I’m not opening the door.
Delivery Guy rattles off a string of digits, and I type them out on my screen, pressing the device to one of the slits on the side of my head I use to hear.
“Hello?” a feminine voice answers the call, and my gut twists in a painful jerk, made all the worse because I didn’t brace myself for the hurt.
“Hi,” I croak the word, frog-like, and then clear my throat of the amphibian tone. “Hello. My name is Satine, and I live on 913 Dark Wood Road. I have a deliveryman here, experiencing vehicle troubles, and he asked I call you to come pick him up.”
“I’m sorry, who?” the lovely-voiced person asks.
“Satine.”
“No, I got your name. Who’s the delivery guy?”
“Oh … uh, just a second.” I cover the receiver with my webbed fingers. “What’s your name?” I yell through the door.
“You don’t know my name?”
“No.” I always refer to him as Delivery Guy. Keeps a needed distance between me and dangerous emotions. “Heath just called you his cousin.”
There’s a mutter that sounds likeunhelpful assholeand then, “Well, I’d like to formally introduce myself. I’m Mahon VernonDeepcave the third. But you can call me Mahon. Or any other complimentary name you think up for me. I’m flexible like that.” He lets out a rumbling laugh. “Yeah! Make a note of that. I’mveryflexible.”
I stare at the door, slowly blinking both sets of my lids, wondering for the first time if the creature on the other side of the entry might be stranger than me.
“Hello?” The voice from my phone recaptures my attention.
“Sorry, I’m still here. He said his name is Mahon.”
There’s a groan and then a muffled shout that has me thinking this person is doing the same hand-over-the-phone maneuver I just did.
“Calder! The silly bear broke his scooter again and wants to use my truck.”
Calder. I know that name. Calder MacNamara is a selkie in town. And if the gossip I’ve heard during my stealthy excursions is right, the water mythic just found his mate. Is that who I’m talking to? For some reason, the idea eases the wave of queasiness in my stomach.
“What are they saying?” Mahon calls through the door.
“Hey, Satine. Tell him Calder will be there in a bit. This is Delta, by the way. Hopefully, Mahon’s not giving you too much trouble.”
“Satine?”
Every time the shifter says my name, my scales tingle.
“Delta says Calder’s on his way,” I call. Then, into my phone, I say, “Thanks. And he’s fine. You can give Calder this number in case he gets lost and needs to call.”
“Weird to think there might be a corner of Lake Galen he doesn’t know, but thanks,” the woman muses. “I’ll do that. Try not to stab the whiny bear while you wait. He means well. Nice to talk to you, Satine.”
