by Sam Burns
“Trying?” Devon asked.
Fletcher took a drink of tea to avoid talking for a minute. Devon seemed to sense that he needed a little space, since he got up and went to rinse his cup in the sink. With Devon’s back to him, he took a deep breath and spoke. “I can turn into a fox, and that’s all. My mom could turn into anything. I should be able to do that, but I can’t. When she was alive, she tried to teach me, but after she died, there was no one left to try, so I didn’t bother.”
Devon didn’t say anything when he finished with his mug, just set it in the drying rack and busied himself organizing his tea collection. He was listening but giving Fletcher space.
“I thought maybe when this is all over, if I live, I might try again. I don’t know why she was having me practice the things she was having me practice, but maybe if I try hard enough, I’ll figure out how my ability works.” It sounded inane when he said the words out loud, like he was pretending he could teach himself astrophysics if only he sat and stared at the twigs on his kitchen table for long enough.
He smiled to himself. Conner hadn’t known what to make of those, especially not after he found out that they were a gift from Oak. He hadn’t been nervous about them, just confused. It had felt like a good sign, that he’d wanted to know but hadn’t thought of them as sinister.
“Oak might not know how to do what you do, but I imagine anything they have you doing will help,” Devon said, his voice breaking into Fletcher’s imaginings. “We can ask some other people in town if they know anything. Check the library for references to shape-shifting.”
“So I’d be more useful?”
Devon returned to sit across from Fletcher again. “You’re plenty useful. You serve this community constantly—”
“Not right now,” Fletcher muttered.
Devon narrowed his eyes and pursed his lips, paused, and started again. “You’re a police officer. You work your ass off for this town. Needing a few days off because you’ve been injured while protecting Rowan Harbor—” Fletcher opened his mouth again, and in a rare show of annoyance, Devon held up a finger to stop him. “Being possessed counts as an injury, and it happened when you were trying to stop a kidnapper who almost killed your partner. Don’t try to tell me this isn’t an injury in the line of duty.”
At least, the proclamation meant that Devon believed what he was saying. It was hard to argue with that. Still, Fletcher wanted to stop talking about himself. “What about you? You’re working on control. How’s that going?”
Instead of answering, Devon played with the jar of honey and made a face that reminded Fletcher of a kid bringing home a bad report card.
“That good, huh?”
Devon shrugged. “Not as well as you and your meditation, that’s for sure. But hey, it would be pretty cool if you could turn into something that could fly, wouldn’t it? I dream of flying sometimes.”
“It would be cool. Mom loved to fly. She was good, too.”
Salli poked her head around the corner. It was probably a bad sign that neither of them had noticed the front bell ring when she’d come in. “You two decide to get a head start on lunch?”
“Only if tea counts as lunch,” Devon said, pointing at Fletcher’s mug. “You want your usual order down at the bakery?”
She frowned at him for a second but nodded before heading back out into the shop. “Whenever you want to go, feel free.”
“What was that about?” Fletcher asked.
Devon leaned forward on the table and rested his cheek on his fist. “She thinks I shouldn’t give the bakery my money because Helena’s mean to me. I keep telling her Helena’s anger isn’t about me, but she doesn’t think it matters.”
“I get her.” Fletcher took the last drink of tea and went to the sink to rinse his own mug. “Helena’s pretty mean to you. If the attitude isn’t about you, she shouldn’t take it out on you. Hell, she shouldn’t do that, anyway.”
“You guys are all sweet for worrying about me, but I can handle my own battles. I’d rather not have a battle at all if I can avoid it.” Devon gave him a little smile when he turned back and shrugged. “My mother trained me well. I don’t think I learned the lessons she intended, but I learned. Nothing is accomplished in screaming matches, yelling people are usually angrier with themselves than you, and if you escalate, they’ll escalate back, and before you know it, there’s violence.”
“From what the town says about your mother, no offense, but I think you learned really different lessons than she was planning to teach.” He set the mug in the drying rack and turned to look at Devon. “We could go over to the Half Moon. It would give me a chance to warn Hana I’m going to be there for dinner with Conner.”
Devon shrugged as he stood from his chair. “Fine by me. We’ll just have to find out what Salli wants from there. Or I guess we could drop by the bakery for her on the way back.”
“Nope,” Salli told him as they walked into the main room, obviously having heard the conversation. “You’ll get me Hana’s California roll sandwich with salt and vinegar chips. Off you go, out of my hair, and I’ll see you in an hour.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Devon agreed, and they headed out for a nice, quiet lunch.
Walking into the Half Moon with Conner in the evening was a lot different than walking in with Devon in the afternoon. Hana tried to smile at Conner, but it was a restrained, worried smile. Though he wasn’t on shift, Andrei Volkov was sitting at the counter picking at a sandwich. Fletcher didn’t fool himself into thinking that was a coincidence. Volkov was a chef, and a quiet, affable guy, but he was also a very large werewolf when the situation required it. He nodded to Fletcher when they came in.
“That guy wants to kick my ass,” Conner said in a near whisper. Andrei grinned at him. “And he heard me. Shit.”
Fletcher tried not to smile and gave Andrei a hard look. It failed, because Andrei grinned at him too. He held up his hands as though baffled by Conner’s conclusion.
Hana led them to a booth near the back, and almost shoved Fletcher into the side with his back to the wall, leaving Conner’s back open to the whole diner. He accepted the position with grace, smiling at Hana and thanking her. She gave him a grudging nod as she handed him a menu.
“They don’t mean—”
“They mean to protect you,” Conner said. Most of the worry was gone from his voice. “You can’t think I’m going to complain about that. They’re good people, and they’re worried about you. I would be too if a friend of mine was on a date with someone who associated with a murderer.”
When Volkov nodded, Fletcher gave the back of his head a glare. “You didn’t know Bob was a killer before I told you about him.”
Conner frowned, setting the menu down and looking at Fletcher instead. “I still feel like I should have. But it didn’t even occur to me. I assumed everyone looks at it the way I do.”
“And what way is that?” Hana asked, back to drop glasses of water off at the table. That, and apparently to pick a fight with Conner.
He gave her that sweet, sincere expression that made Fletcher’s knees weak. “Like innocent people are innocent people, human or not. I’ve never even looked for anyone unless they killed people.”
She looked dubious, but nodded and set a glass of water in front of him. “That’s not a bad start.” She opened her mouth to speak again, but Fletcher cut her off.
“Hana, this is date night, not Conner-interrogation night. If you want to talk to him, I’m sure he’d be happy to chat, but can it be another time?”
Glancing back over at Conner, she nodded. “If he wants to drop by for breakfast Saturday, I’m sure the council would like to talk to him.”
“The guy from the bar? Max?” Conner looked like a deer caught in headlights. He probably didn’t want to admit that he knew Max was a vampire. “Doesn’t he work late nights? I doubt he’d want to be out first thing in the morning.”
“Jesse Hunter,” she countered, and Fletcher buried his face in his hands.
Conner looked to Fletcher and back at Hana. “Related to Deputy Hunter?”
“He’s Deputy Hunter’s older brother. And Devon Murphy, and maybe Madame Cormier. You’re right, Max doesn’t do breakfast. But you’d be Jesse’s problem anyway, and they have breakfast here on Saturdays.”
With an enormous sigh designed to get attention more than relieve stress, Fletcher held out his menu to Hana. “Could I have the cod sandwich with fries?”
She eyed him for a moment, then nodded. “And pie.”
“And pie. Oh, can I have a milkshake? Chocolate?”
That seemed to get the rest of her attention; it made her look like she wanted to reach out and pinch his cheek. It was a weird expression from someone who looked his age. “Of course you can, dear. You should eat as much as you can. Need to keep up your strength.” She turned to Conner, and Fletcher had to give her credit—she tried to keep her smile up. “And you, Mr. . . . ?”
“Mason,” he answered. “But please, call me Conner. And may I have the same? Except the milkshake.”
“You don’t want a milkshake?” Her words were tart, lips and brows drawn together in mild offense. That was strange, considering that she didn’t like making milkshakes and often complained if Fletcher ordered one.
Conner’s eyes widened, and he looked at Fletcher then back at Hana nervously. That was fair, really. Even if Hana couldn’t hurt him, she could kick him out of the only full-service restaurant in town. “I would love a milkshake, ma’am, if you’d like to make me one. Vanilla?” He asked, watching her expression.
She gave him a sharp nod and took his menu. “All right. But you’ll be here Saturday?”
“Hana!”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Fletcher rubbed his eyes. Maybe if he rubbed long enough, he wouldn’t have to look at the train wreck that was this date. The only date he’d ever been on, and Hana was acting like an overprotective parent who wanted to take him aside and warn him that boys only wanted one thing. He wanted to go back and have frozen meals and beer in his apartment.
“It’s okay, Fletcher,” Conner whispered. “If I’m going to be around, I should probably have a conversation with the council anyway, right?”
“They’re not really—I mean yeah, they’re the town council, but they’re my friends. It’s like I’m a teenager. My friends want to interview you.” He let his hands fall to the table and sighed.
Conner reached out and took one hand in his. “That’s okay too. I’d have to meet your friends at some point. But it’ll be weird if you’re not there. I won’t be comfortable talking to anyone about ‘us’ without your input.”
“I’ll be there,” Fletcher promised. “My boss won’t let me work right now, anyway.”
Conner glanced at Andrei and back at Fletcher, obviously hesitant to say what he wanted to with an audience. Finally, he settled on, “Are you okay?”
“Honestly? I don’t know.” Fletcher thought of Aldric and the magic that was trying to overcome his own. He hoped the witches figured out something soon, because until they did, he was just stuck.
Squeezing Fletcher’s hand, Conner nodded. He didn’t seem appeased, but he didn’t push.
“Are your friends still in Portland?” Fletcher finally broke the silence. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know, but he didn’t want to sit there obsessing about Aldric, either. “It’s been more than a day. I figured they’d be back by now.”
Conner gave an unsettled little frown and shook his head. “They’re still there. I called Frank this afternoon, and he said they were staying in Portland today. I’d wonder if they were questioning my loyalty, but in retrospect, Frank’s been acting suspiciously the whole time.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean I feel like an idiot. There’s no logical reason he’d believe White’s still here unless he had inside information.” Conner leaned back against the seat, giving a dramatic sigh almost worthy of Jesse. “He’s been following White for a long time. You said someone in Scotland hired White to find—” He stopped and looked around, then back at Fletcher, one eyebrow up in question.
“It’s fine. Pretty much everyone in town knows that there was a book.”
Conner cocked his head quizzically but shook it and continued. “If someone hired White to search and he never came back, it’s reasonable to assume they’d hire someone else to find him, assuming he’d either failed or made off with the book himself.”
“Mrs. MacKenzie said there was some kind of organization of magic users, and she reported him to them,” Fletcher said. He wanted that organization to have handled Hector MacKenzie. He never wanted to meet the man in person.
Aldric shivered, deep in his belly. Wrong. Broken. So, so angry.
Fletcher couldn’t help it; he shivered too.
“Something wrong?” Conner asked, and in response, Andrei turned around and Hana stuck her head out of the back.
He sighed at all of them, exasperated. “I shivered, guys. It’s winter.”
“But it’s warm in here,” Andrei said.
When Fletcher looked at Hana, and then Conner, they both gave him wide-eyed, innocent expressions. Hana disappeared back into the kitchen to work on the milkshakes.
“So the magic people were supposed to catch him, but you don’t know if they did?” Conner asked when Fletcher turned his attention back to the table. It was obvious he wanted to ask about Hana and Andrei’s reaction, but he was holding back.
“It’s not—I mean, the town isn’t all magic users. The coalition of international magic users or whatever they call themselves—they don’t report to us. I’m sure Wade’ll try to get answers from them once he realizes we didn’t, but I don’t even know if they’ll tell him.”
Hana bustled out of the back with her tray, milkshakes and glasses perched precariously on top. “They should have reported to you. You told them about a dangerous murderer, and they should have at least thanked you and Jesse for discovering what happened.” She set to laying out their ice cream while tutting over the ungrateful magic users like a disappointed grandmother.
“You and Jesse?” Conner asked. He’d dropped all pretense that the conversation was just himself and Fletcher and turned to include Andrei and Hana.
Worst date ever.
“And some other people,” Fletcher admitted with a sigh. “We worked together. Figured out what White was up to, and why, and stopped him.”
“But mostly you and Jesse,” Hana added. She nodded at Conner, expression daring him to question her about it.
Conner offered a charming, lopsided smile.
She returned it with an assessing look. “I’ll go ask about those sandwiches.”
The table was quiet for a moment after she left. Andrei had turned back around as though he weren’t still listening in. Fletcher sighed. “Go home, Andrei. I’m not in danger, and neither is the diner. There’s no reason for you to be here.”
Without looking at them, Andrei slid off his stool, taking his plate into the kitchen. He could still hear them from there, but at least it was less obvious.
“There’s a lot I don’t know, isn’t there?” Conner asked. He didn’t seem angry. If he was trying to hold back an emotion, it looked like amusement. His lips pursed but kept trying to turn up at the corners.
Fletcher thumped his head against the wall behind him. “This is the worst. It’s like we’re not even on a date. Eating cereal on my couch would have been more romantic.”
“We’ll have time for romance,” Conner told him, his expression defaulting to that sweet, hopeful one Fletcher liked more than he should. “As much as I’d like to ignore everything but that, we might want to focus on getting through this alive. If Frank is knowingly working for someone who hired White, it means this whole hunt—um, thing—has been disingenuous from the start.”
Andrei came back out of the kitchen with a to-go box. He looked hard at Conner. “I hope you’re as nice as Fletcher thinks. His friends will make you into pa
ste if you try to hurt him.”
“Oh god. It’s like a town full of protective parents. You’re barely older than me, Andrei!” Fletcher called after him, scowling.
Conner looked back at him, smiling. “He’s worried. I know, you’re not a kid. But I get it. Between Bob, me, and what happened to White, you’ve been through a lot lately. You look like you haven’t slept in years, Fletcher. They’ve got reasons to worry, and I’m the only one they can affect without serious consequences.”
“They don’t know there won’t be serious consequences. You could bring others like Bob and Frank down on us.” Fletcher grabbed the straw in front of him and stabbed it into his milkshake, glaring at it like it had done something wrong. “I don’t think you will, but that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t be careful.”
“I’d like to say they have faith in your taste, but I’m not sure why they’re not worried. Maybe just because I already know about you and I’m still here.” He grabbed his own straw and tried to take a drink of his milkshake. “How are you using a straw on this? Are you a vacuum cleaner? This requires a spoon.”
Fletcher couldn’t help chuckling at that. “I so want to make a sex joke, but I’m not smooth enough to pull that off. I’d come out sounding like an idiot, and you’d never want to sleep with me.”
Conner almost choked on his spoonful of ice cream and spent a minute coughing to clear his windpipe.
That was even worse than putting the man off with his awkwardness. “See? I’m the opposite of smooth.”
“I don’t think wanting to sleep with you will be a problem,” Conner said. He was smiling again, even after Fletcher had almost inadvertently caused his death by ice cream. “I kind of like you being awkward. It’s cute. Is that patronizing?”
Fletcher raised an eyebrow. “Do I look like I care? If it makes you okay with my terminal awkwardness, I don’t care if it’s patronizing. I’ll tell you if you cross a line.”
“Please do,” Conner said.
When Hana came back again with their food, she didn’t try to start another conversation. Just gave Conner that assessing look and nod. “We’ll see you Saturday morning.”
