“You’re just new again,” Whit said. “It’s like a re-initiation. You forget how weird it all is until something bites you in the ass.”
Holden leaned back against the wall. “So what, I’m supposed to just get used to this? Engagements decided by the town, glowing creatures saving us from shadow monsters, and people talking like it’s all normal?”
No one answered him right away. Flora handed him a mug instead. He took it without looking at her.
“It’s not about getting used to it,” Beau said. “It’s about being here long enough that it stops feeling strange.”
“That doesn’t sound better,” Holden muttered.
“I don’t think it’s supposed to,” Whit said.
The room settled. The warmth from the stove spread slow and even, the soft hiss of the kettle now the only sound. Milo had dozed off, head on my thigh. Pickles was finally quiet, watching us all with her tiny, bugged-out eyes, still tracking every movement Holden made.
I shifted closer to Beau. He pulled me in like it was instinct.
“Areyouokay?” I asked, barely above a whisper.
His eyes dropped to the ring on my hand. “Yeah.”
I didn’t ask if he meant it. I just held on tighter.
Flora dimmed the single lamp by the window and moved to a small cot tucked into the corner, dropping a heavy blanket over it. “Get what sleep you can,” she said. “The woods will get bored by morning…and you’re safe here.”
Nobody laughed that time.
Delilah stretched out on the floor beside Whit, their shoulders brushing. Shane stayed curled in his chair, staring at the ceiling. Holden hadn’t moved from his post by the wall. And Beau…he stayed beside me, solid and warm andforever.
I felt him doze off in the cozy light of Flora’s cottage…felt Milo on my other side, snoring in his sleep. My hand rested on Beau’s chest, the ring glinting, and I moved my fingers to look a little closer.
I didn’t know where he’d gotten it, but it suited me. Amethyst was my favorite gemstone; silver my favorite metal. If I’d had to make a ring myself, I would have made one that looked a lot like this.
But the thing that got me the most was the moonstones.
Twin gemstones on either side of the amethyst…glowing like eyes in the dark.
I didn’t know what the Shadow Painter was. I didn’t know what it wanted, or where it had come from, or how long it had been here. But I was starting to think it hadn’t come to hurt us. Not me. Maybe not any of us.
Maybe it had always been a guardian.
Or maybe it had chosen to be.
I didn’t realize how tightly I was holding Beau until his breath hitched under my arm. I eased up, smoothing my hand over his chest in slow strokes. His heartbeat was steady. His warmth kept the rest of the world at bay.
I looked one last time at the ring before tucking my hand back against him, fitting myselfaround him.
Outside, the wind picked up. The wind chimes on the porch sang their slow, eerie song…the same song I’d heard a thousand times as a child, hiding under the blankets during those violent thunderstorms in the Ouachita Mountains.
Something rustled in the trees—too big for a bird, too quiet for a deer—but I didn’t sit up. I didn’t move.
I wasn’t afraid.
Not anymore.
My eyes drifted shut, the scent of herbs and firelight pulling me down into sleep.
And somewhere just past the edge of sleep, I could almost feel it again. Watching…waiting.
Protecting.
