The siren’s mouth is pinched in a disapproving line, expression made more sour in contrast to the pretty ’50s housewife look she’s rocking.
“Selena Evermore. The witch council member. And Juan Greymark, the Of the Claw council member.”
“We know each other.” Greymark’s words carry the underlying message,And I don’t like her.
I’ve always respected the beta of my pack, but he’s rubbing my fur the wrong way this morning.
Tamping down my annoyance, I watch as Clem absorbs all the introductions. Her only reaction to Greymark’s words is a barely audible sigh.
Folk Haven is a small town, and she probably also encountered Moira, Selena, and Georgiana at least once while growing up here. But she was still a teenager when she left. Doubt she remembers them much, if at all.
“And that’s”—Clementine points toward the guy quietly sitting at the farthest end of the table—“Owen?”
A smile lights up his naturally friendly face. “You got it. Owen MacNamara. But I’m not on The Council.”
Before she can ask why he’s here, the sound of the front door opening cuts her off, quickly followed by the appearance of Carl. My friend has changed into civilian clothes, but he’d be better off in pajamas with how worn out he looks. Working a night shift and finding out your sister has an unhealing wound will do that to a guy.
“Clem.” He hurries to her side. “How are you feeling?”
She sits straighter and smiles up at him while giving a thumbs-up. “Well enough, considering. Griffith made me food.”
“Got a plate for you too, buddy.” I clap him on the shoulder and head back to the kitchen.
I knew there was no way Carl would go straight to bed, so I doubled up on everything. He accepts my offering, settling himself on the arm of his sister’s chair.
“Clementine”—Moira regains the attention of the room—“would you please tell us what happened with the hunter?”
Clementine finishes her orange juice with a large gulp, wipes her mouth, then spends the next ten minutes running through the same information she gave Carl and me last night. The date, the fight, the wound, her fleeing here.
“Do you have any idea how they knew what you were?” Georgiana asks. The siren can be a hard woman to deal with, but I don’t sense any judgment in her voice, only worry.
Clementine sighs. “I don’t. All the people I associated with in public were human as far as I know. I haven’t shifted in more than six months.”
Some of the mythics at the table wince at the idea. I have the same discomfort, not wanting to even imagine going that long without slipping into my wolf form.
But in a world of oblivious humans, that’s survival.
“We’ll need you to describe all the hunters you encountered,” Selena insists. “We’ve tried to keep the wards strong, but we just don’t have a witch with the right discipline.” Her fingers flex on the tabletop as if the inability to cast the proper spell aggravates her. “If the hunters show up here, it’s likely they’ll be able to get in.”
“We’ll run patrols,” Juan offers. “Along the road and through the woods.” He faces Clementine. “Do you have anything with their scent on it? The clothes you fought them in? Something the one you dated, Luke, touched?”
In my mind, I imagine a shadowy figure running his hands over Clementine’s body. The urge to growl is difficult to bite back.
She grimaces. “No. I changed at my apartment. And Luke never gave me anything that I kept.”
For some reason I don’t want to think too hard on, that knowledge soothes my wolf.
Carl rubs her shoulder in comfort. Clementine wasn’t raised to think like a wolf. To consider the best way to hunt.
“We don’t know that they’ll make their way here, but we need to be prepared if they do,” Moira says.
“We’ve been preparing,” I point out, nodding toward Owen.
The selkie has been quiet this whole time. He’s Moira’s brother, but he doesn’t technically hold any official power in this town.
That doesn’t mean he’s not important.
Owen returns my nod and stands to address the group. “Honestly, I’m surprised it took this long for us to deal with a threat from hunters. So many mythics living in one community. We’re a treasure trove for them. But we can keep our people safe as long as we stay coordinated.” He rubs his hands together, a thoughtful expression tilting his brow. “We’ll need to be creative without the wards. And Clementine can prepare us for what to look out for.”
