Noah appears excited as he takes a big bite—excited for the day ahead, excited for the life he lives, oblivious to the dangers of the world.
I'd like to keep it that way, but it's becoming challenging when I've built my life around needing to protect him at all costs. I just can't bury the sinking feeling that I won't always be able to protect him. Not while I'm in Salem, all alone.
***
A set of plump, aging fingers rap on the counter in front of my face, springing me out of my daze and tearing my gaze from the computer.
“Miss Sanchez…” Warren, the owner of the diner, clears his throat. “Table three,” he says bluntly before lightly slapping his palm on the counter and walking off toward his office to count his day's earnings.
Groaning, I glance at the time on the clock hanging above the front door, but the couple at table three seems oblivious to the fact that we're about to close. I print the bill, tuck it into a black leather folder, and round the counter to make my way to the table behind the window.
Just as I'm about to approach the couple, a shadow gusts by the window, as if a passing wind carried the silhouette. While the couple didn't seem to notice, it was evident enough to stop me in my tracks, a cold shiver slithering down my spine as my breath chills and catches in my throat.
What was that?
The goosebumps pebbling the flesh on my forearms already alert me that I didn't just imagine that, that I'm not dreaming. But it doesn't stop me from pinching my skin between my thumb and pointer finger, feeling the sting as clearly as I saw the passing shadow.
“Miss…?” The man at the table waves me over, and I quickly steady my composure before hurrying to their table, eyes flickering to the window as I pass him the check.
“Sorry about that,” I quickly plastered a smile on my face for the sake of the patrons. “We're about to close.”
“Of course,” the man smiles behind a pair of thick eyeglasses. “You must have been worried that someone else was gonna walk in, right?”
“Right,” I nod curtly, maintaining my smile as he slips a fifty -dollar bill into the folder before passing it back.
“Keep the change,” he smirks as he holds out his hand for the woman, who appears smitten by the chivalrous gesture.
Grateful that I’ve just bagged twenty dollars as a tip, I wait for the couple to leave before breathing out a sigh of relief when the door closes behind them. I'm just jittery from being chased in my dreams; that's why I remain observant even as I shut the blinds on the windows and lift the last pair of chairs onto the table.
After bidding Warren goodbye, I hang up my apron and lift my bag onto my shoulder, about to head out when another icy chill skims my spine and freezes me on the spot. Even with the blinds shut, I notice a shadowy mist passing the front of the diner, and this time, the lights flicker inside.
A fearful gasp escapes me, that inner voice chanting those two words repeatedly as if it's trying to guide my next move.
Go home…go home….
I shake my head to rid myself of that nagging, persistent voice, mustering the courage to leave the diner and get back to Noah. That's all that matters, and I ignore my inner voice, because it shouldn't matter.
I didn't spend the last four years of my life denouncing the beliefs I'd grown up with for nothing. It's the only reason I refuse to shift into wolf form and use a shortcut through the forest to get back to my cottage from the diner.
I've built a life for Noah and me in Salem, among the humans who have no idea that the supernatural exists. Even if they do suspect that a world exists outside of theirs, they'd never fully embrace it.
That's why I can't shift, and why I've kept my true identity a secret since I moved to Salem. I haven't shifted since giving birth to Noah, and I can't do it now, even as I cross the street and feel an unsettling wave of paranoia trickle down my spine when I briefly glance at the small gathering of trees behind the buildings. I gulp when I feel the fine hairs on the back of my neck prickle as if in warning, and I hug my arms tightly over my chest as I step onto the sidewalk across the diner.
Slowing down momentarily, I scan my surroundings, mapping my way down the street under every lit street light to avoid being caught in the dark. The eerie chill doesn't leave me, and I'm suddenly hyper-aware of every sound, as if it's my inner wolf's hearing that I'm tapping into.
The screeching of tires as an odd car whooshes by, or the flapping of wings as a bird flies past in a desperate attempt to join its flock…I can hear everything. The most petrifying are the gentle gusts of wind passing that bring with them more bitter chills and the feeling that I'm being followed.
My footsteps are quick as I march down the street, keeping my head lowered while my ears are on the lookout for any sound that's out of the ordinary. When I get to the end of the street, I dart to the left and enter the residential area, jogging down the street that's darker than the one I'd come from. With only a few houses occupied with their lights turned on, I have to maneuver cautiously to stick to the illuminated parts of the street.
I hate feeling like I'm being followed, and I know it's probably my mind playing tricks on me, but I just can't seem to shake off the wariness of my inner wolf that has me on high alert. It's only when I reach Lyra's porch that I let out the breath I didn't even know I was holding and tap on the door thrice.
The door opens, and Lyra appears with Noah on her hip.
“Mama!” he calls out excitedly as he opens his arms toward me.
I step forward and take him into my arms, hugging him with relief washing over me, closing my eyes. When I open them again, Lyra is frowning at me, her blue eyes curious orbs of speculation.
“What's wrong?” she whispers so that Noah doesn't hear her with his head buried on my shoulder, nuzzling close as if he missed me as much as I missed him.
