He heaved himself back up and walked the long way back to his small bed and breakfast overlooking the harbor. The bed was comfortable, but it didn’t help. He spent the entire night staring at the ceiling while his thoughts churned. Should he turn around and go back to Wales, or should he face her again? What was the best way to get to Gordon? Especially now that he’d acted like he didn’t know her and could no longer appeal to her former friendship.
He couldn’t go back to the bakery and suddenly become Zach. He was going to have to try some other way.
The next day, he made his way back to the town’s high street, found himself a bench with a view of The Holly Tree, and settled in to wait.
People came and went. Customers let themselves into the small bakery and came out with paper bags and cups of coffee. Nothing suspicious or out of the ordinary happened. If he didn’t know better, he would have thought it was exactly what it seemed—a successful bakery in a small tourist town.
He let the morning rush die down, then made his way inside The Holly Tree. It was just as warm and cheerful inside as it had been the day before, but no doubt still hiding the same dark Shadows.
This time he knew they were there. This time he was prepared. And this time he didn’t have to look. In fact, it was better not to. If he kept his mind shuttered, closed to the Shadows around him, then he didn’t have to see how warped Emma’s Shadows were. It was the only way he could get through this without his revulsion showing on his face.
He strode up to the counter where Emma was helping customers and forced himself to stand there, not allowing himself to turn around and walk away. “Coffee, please. Latte.”
Emma blinked up at him, her hand settling briefly on the gold locket she wore before she dropped it away again. Could it possibly contain something dangerous? Blood Shadows, perhaps? Was she warding herself as James had?
Zach glanced around the room, careful not to look at Emma or her Shadows, and opened himself for a moment. The room was bright and vibrant and the Shadows softly haloing the customers were healthy and strong. There were none of the swirling dark Shadows that James had hidden behind, and no wards that he could see. The darkness must be entirely concentrated on Emma.
Zach swallowed, closed down his vision of the Shadows, and forced himself to smile as he turned back. He nodded toward the baskets on the wall behind her. “And one of those croissants.”
Her eyes widened, perhaps in surprise, but she turned to grab a pair of tongs without comment. She selected a croissant for him, made his coffee, and put them on the counter before she turned to the register.
“I hope you enjoy your pastry,” Emma murmured. She had a soft accent, no longer Welsh and not quite French. Something in between. If he hadn’t known that she was working with blood Shadows, it would have sounded charming.
“I will, I’m sure…. I regretted not getting one yesterday,” Zach replied.
She wrinkled her nose at him skeptically. “Did you?”
What he’d really regretted was running away like a coward without learning anything, but he couldn’t say that. “They smell delicious.”
“Thank you. I like to think they taste even better.” She smiled then—a wide, genuine smile—and damn if it didn’t stab at him.
Now that he had shut his vision to her Shadows, all he could see was the bright gleam in her eyes that he’d once known so well. Emma was genuinely proud of the bakery she worked in, and secure enough in herself to say so. Something about that quiet strength contrasted with the lie she was living in a way that made him deeply uncomfortable.
She was just like James. James had hidden a secret apartment and had spent years working with his uncle, the man they all thought he hated. He’d even attacked innocent Duine. James had tried to kill Ethan, hurt Kay, and control Zach. And he’d done it all with a smile on his face, pretending they were friends.
God. He couldn’t bear to look at Emma for another second. Zach flicked his eyes down to the engraved locket she wore, also depicting a holly tree by the look of it, and searched for something reasonable to say. “That’s a pretty necklace.”
“My mother gave it to me just before she died,” Emma replied.
He almost flinched, but he held himself still. He wasn’t there to feel sorry for her. He was there to learn something. He forced himself to lift his eyes and meet her quiet gaze. “Your mother? Is she French?” he asked, gesturing toward the array of continental pastries.
Emma laughed. “No. Not at all. She was Welsh… like you.”
He ignored her unspoken question and raised an eyebrow. “Youdon’t sound Welsh.”
Her smile faded. “I left Wales when I was very young. My mother died. And then my father….” She blinked and let out a small huff of breath. “Sorry. I don’t know why I’m telling you this.” She took a step back and started tidying the counter.
“I asked,” Zach said, quietly damning himself. He was supposed to get close enough to find out more, not frighten her off on the first attempt. This was exactly why he was a Guardian—he would have been much more comfortable if he could just pull his Shadows into a sword and fight for the information he needed.
Emma hummed in disagreement. “You just…. You look like someone I used to know.” She smiled again, but this time it seemed forced. “Enjoy your croissant.”
He grunted a response and left with the coffee and croissant, strode up the street, and dumped it all in the same bin as before—which hurt a little because it did smell delicious—while his Shadows churned and stretched back the way he’d come.
It was almost as if they were reaching for Emma, which was ridiculous. Everything about this was ridiculous. How was he going to learn anything by buying coffee? He ignored his Shadows, returned to the same hard bench he’d sat on the day before, and settled in to watch.
He sat for long hours while shoppers and tourists came and went. Lunchtime passed. The afternoon crowds built and thinned. Seagulls fought over an abandoned bag of chips. The sun slipped down toward the hills, and the local stores began to close. When last had he simply sat and allowed time to pass? He couldn’t even remember.
The two students who worked in the bakery both left, laughing at some joke between them. And then, finally, the older woman he’d assumed was the manager let herself out, turning the sign on the door to closed before she shut the door behind her. Zach watched as she waved back through the window, presumably to Emma still inside.
