“I’m supposed to be meeting with the pack,” Declan said.
“That’s not until late,” Arwyn reminded him.
“Yeah, but who knows how long this will take. It’s the full moon tomorrow. I can’t reschedule a moon run.” He rubbed his hand over his face in frustration.
“Go,” she said, patting his knee again. “We can handle it without you.”
His hand dropped and he looked at her like she was nuts. “I’m not letting you run off into danger without me.”
“Letting?” she echoed, eyebrows raised.
Arthur growled. “You two bicker on your own time. It’s been a long day and I’m tired.”
Declan sighed. “I’ll figure it out.”
They all stood and began moving toward the back door. Arwyn paused beside me. “Thank you for letting us take over your shop again.” Her hand flew up, barely covering her yawn.
“She’s been killing herself trying to finish a huge commission,” Declan began. “She hasn’t been resting enough.” He nodded to me as he walked her toward the back. “Straight to bed. We need you awake and alert tomorrow.”
Nick hung back, his warm brown eyes filled with concern. “You could still open. Some of your customers might be awake and in need of a book.”
Glancing up at the clock on the wall, I nodded. “That was a quick meeting. They barely stayed thirty minutes.”
He shrugged one beefy shoulder. “We usually get a couple of days’ notice before a meeting. We can adjust our schedules, take naps, whatever. I called for the meeting today, so they were dragging. Me too, if I’m being honest.”
He reached out and brushed a hand down my arm. “If you really want to go back right now, though, I’ll go with you.”
I shook my head. “No. Go home and get some sleep.”
At the back door, he paused, almost leaning in to me before he caught himself. “Good night. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Nodding, I waved him off and then locked the back door. I picked up the empty plate and water glasses, put them in the dishwasher, then tried to decide what to do. I could open, as Nick suggested, but I’d already given Jeremy his book. No one else was expected and most of my customers arrived by midnight if they were coming.
I could start a new book. The fact that I’d finished one last night and still hadn’t started another was unheard of.
I reached for the overhead pendants and then stopped. I wasn’t in the mood to read—a singular experience in my life. I worried about other animals like Maisie and all those other bones under that bridge. I was already mounting my stairs before I’d accepted my decision. I knew, even if the rationalizing portion of my brain had yet to catch up.
My turret bedroom was dark, and I left it that way. I saw better in the dark than the light. Quickly undressing, I felt a momentary fire sweep through me as I shifted to feather and claw before I was soaring out the window and into the night.
Owls are silent flyers. It was what made us such excellent hunters. They never heard us coming. The cold ocean air rushed over my wings as I scanned the ground below. Senses alive, no sun to burn my eyes, I was in perfect harmony with the world.
I caught movement—a small rabbit—but continued on. I didn’t have the time for a meal. It was a long flight and the closer I got, the more uneasy I felt. I was an apex predator, but I didn’t think that mattered with whatever lived under that bridge.
The woods were quiet, far more quiet than they should have been at this hour. When I arrived, a chill ran under my feathers. Circling high in the air, I scanned the rocks and water for the bridge dweller. I couldn’t see him, so I flew lower. Still nothing. I did, however, notice a backpack bobbing in the rising tide.
A wave washed it off a rock and dragged it out of the inlet toward the open ocean. Swooping down, I plucked it from the water, flying it up to the clifftop and dropping it beneath a tall pine. This wasn’t a pet collar. A backpack meant human.
Ocean spray from the crashing waves coated my feathers as I flew under the bridge, searching for the invisible outline I’d seen earlier. Nothing. I tried a few more times and then flew to the pine where I’d dropped the backpack, landing on a well-insulated branch to wait and watch.
Perhaps it was out hunting again.
The sound of the roaring ocean settled my nerves. After a bit, I began noticing other sounds. The creaking and shushing of branches in the wind surrounded me. What was missing, though, were the skitters, squeaks, trills, snuffs, growls, and thumps that belonged here. I knew the sound of a healthy forest. This wasn’t it.
As the sky showed the barest hints of dawn, the lowering tide left the inlet with drying rocks. My mind was wandering through books, with the occasional interruption of Nick’s warm eyes and distracting dimples, when I felt rather than heard something approaching.
Ruffling my feathers, I scanned the ocean and the tree line, not knowing his natural habitat. Headlights appeared in the distance. A pressure was building in my head, but I couldn’t see that telltale hazy outline yet.
As the lone car neared, a shimmer of air appeared in its headlights. The sound was immediate and deafening. The sedan had to have been driving at least sixty miles an hour when it smashed into nothing and accordioned as though it had hit a wall. The shimmer of air swirled and the car flew off the side of the cliff, straight down into the water.
