A weird warmth blooms in my chest, and I scoop up a forkful of eggs so I can blame the heat on the sauce.
I expect Griffith to rejoin whatever meeting is taking place in his house, but he grabs a steaming mug that smells like coffee and returns to my side, standing in between me and the visitors.
“Is Carl still working?” I ask while spreading a thick coating of jam on my toast.
“He got off not long ago. He’s bringing your car here. Should be back soon.”
I nod and chew and commend myself for the fact that Griffith and I have been in each other’s vicinity for almost fifteen minutes without tossing insults at one another. As long as you don’t count hiswreckedcomment, but that was more of an observation than anything.
“Who are your guests?” I wave my fork toward the quietly talking group.
“Finish your breakfast.”
“I can eat and listen at the same time.” To prove my point, I take a big bite of sausage and chew it slowly, my cheeks puffed with food as I glance up at him expectantly.
The wolf stares at my mouth for a moment, and I wonder if he’s had a chance to eat.
Eventually, Griffith blinks and tears his hungry gaze away, clearing his throat before responding, “They’re the current members of The Folk Haven Mythic Council.”
“Hungry members,” a vaguely familiar woman with a shaved head, onyx skin tone, and subtle air of power calls out. I swear I saw her around town when I used to live here, but as a teen, I didn’t pay much attention to adults who didn’t directly influence my life. “I expected some food at this morning meeting. A witch can’t live off black coffee alone.”
“He’s not obligated to feed you,” a broad-shouldered man rumbles. Despite the years, I still recognize him—JuanGreymark, beta of the local werewolf pack. His daughter, Rosa, was in my class and might have gotten caught up in a few of my schemes.
Doubt he’s a member of my fan club.
Is he the alpha now?If so, that means he can give Griffith orders.
Not sure why, but I don’t like that thought.
Juan glares at the woman who called for food like she personally offended him in some way before he turns his attention to Griffith. “But I think we’ve waited long enough.”
“Long enough for what?” I ask in a stage whisper.
The wolf meets my eyes with a hard look. “To hear about the danger you brought to our town.”
8
GRIFFITH
I hazard a glare at Juan,not liking the way he’s dumping the blame on Clementine for being found out by a hunter. Even though it is strikingly similar to a sentiment I voiced last night.
I never expected my home to become a council room, but I’m grateful I have the space for the sudden influx of power players. If I couldn’t host everyone here, the leaders of this town probably would have demanded Carl and I bring his sister to Town Hall, and Clementine still looks dead on her feet despite the healing and hours of sleep she got.
It wasn’t a true healing.
The thought has my hands clenching around my coffee mug. Knowing that she’s injured and suffering and I can’t make it stop—it has me feeling useless. I might not be Clementine’s biggest fan, but that doesn’t mean I want her hurting. I just wish her out of Carl’s life. But in a safe, non-painful way.
I open my mouth to tell Juan to give her a break, only for Clementine to cut me off, her tone dry, even as her eyes spark.
“I did not seek out a hunter. I did not draw him a map here. I was living my life—quietly—and he found me.” Clementine may appear weak and worn out as she uses two hands to cradle her orange juice, but her voice is pure steel. “And if you want me to speak to you all about what I know, then you can shove that victim-blaming mentality up your ass and choke on it.”
The room is silent, Juan’s shoulders stiffening as the insult lingers in the air. Then a bark of laughter breaks through the quiet, and I realize the response came from Selena. The witch council member does always seem to be the least serious of the bunch, though that might be a shield to hide exactly how powerful she is.
Just as I’m wondering if I’ll have to referee a bickering session between council members, Moira MacNamara stands, claiming the room’s attention. Her height might have something to do with her automatic authority, especially because selkies aren’t mythical creatures who usually inspire intimidation. But that didn’t stop her from earning her seat on The Folk Haven Mythic Council, and now, as Moira pushes her curly hair over her shoulder, she silently demands the spotlight.
“Hello, Clementine. I’m not sure if you remember me, but I’m Moira MacNamara.” The selkie’s voice is calm and respectful, a woman who knows how to be tactful. “Currently, I’m the Of the Fin representative on The Council. This is my mate, Levi Abadi, the monster representative.” She gestures toward the man at her side, who gives Clementine a nod and a gentle smile, even as he gently bounces the baby strapped to his chest.
“Georgiana Stormwind, the Of the Wing council member.”
