by Molly Harper
“All right, but if you need anything, call and I will come running. Even if it’s just clean towels.”
Dani held up her fingers in what looked like a Girl Scout salute. “I promise I will.”
“In the meantime, I can take you back to town to get the rest of your things,” Zed offered.
Jillian jabbed a finger towards his chest. “Dani does not need the full Near-Death-Experience-on-the-Back-of-Zed’s-Harley just yet. Besides, don’t you think maybe you should concentrate on fixing the shower?”
“That’s your Springer Soft Tail Classic out front?” Dani asked, delighted.
Jillian muttered, “The one with the extremely unsubtle claw marks painted down the body?”
Zed’s grin ratcheted up even further. “Sure is. You know bikes?”
“Only because a boyfriend in college rode one. He taught me how to drive because I threatened not to give him…”
Zed’s eyebrows rose.
Dani didn’t look remotely embarrassed. She just grinned cheekily and added, “Handshakes anymore. Very firm, loving handshakes.”
Zed smirked at her. “Mmmhmm.”
“Nice save,” Jillian added.
Unabashed, Dani gestured to her shoulder bag. “Besides, there’s no need to run back into town.”
“That’s all you brought?” Zed asked, side-eying her bag.
She jiggled the bag lightly. “Everything I have in the world.”
Zed shuddered. He wasn’t a dragon when it came to hording stuff, but he enjoyed his cave and its creature comforts. He had no desire to live anywhere else. He couldn’t imagine a nomadic life where he could carry everything he owned around in a backpack.
Dani laughed, a rich, bright sound, like thrumming a harp. “I’m just kidding. I have equipment and clothes coming in a few days. It’s being shipped. I like to travel light, but I’m not pathological about it.”
Zed snorted. “Yeah, I had that coming.”
Dani grinned at him, and he went all warm and gooey inside, like he’d just drunk a mug of hot apple cider. He shook his head, as if wiggling his brain back into place. Maybe he did get a concussion from the tub.
Jillian patted his arm, as if she could sense his distraction. “Okay, it’s so hot out I can feel the sweat between my toes, which is not a good look. Zed, how about you focus on fixing the shower and I’ll show Dani around.”
Zed found that he didn’t want to agree. He wanted to follow them through the strange fairy tale house and see Dani’s face as she saw all of the charming little quirks, the trees lit by spirit bottles, the haint-blue porch crowded with hanging baskets of geraniums, the odd little tower where Miss Lottie had held her rituals. And the bed that swung from the ceiling on ropes made from spider-shifter silk, that was always a point of interest.
But instead, he chose not to behave like a lovesick preteen girl, looked at the mess he’d made of the shower and realized he was going to have to visit the hardware store. In his effort to try to catch the tub, he’d stepped on several of his pipes and bent them beyond repair. Sure, he had the strength to force them back into shape, but they’d never thread together properly and run water without serious leaks.
“Hey, bebelle! I’m gonna have to run into town!” he yelled through the kitchen door, into the house.
“Put on a shirt!” Jillian shouted back from upstairs. “Otherwise, Bael will arrest you for public indecency!”
Zed called back. “Not likely! He’s been in a much better mood since you moved in! He’s only a grumpy bastard every other day!”
Zed pulled his wet shirt over his head, Jillian’s bell-like giggle ringing through the open door. The shirt clung to him like an overprotective mother, but thanks to the summer heat and the breeze from riding his motorcycle, the material had almost dried by the time he reached the town square. His bike rolled smoothly down Main Street and its collection of shops. The town square centered on a wooden gazebo and a large fountain, carved by dwarvish craftsmen, featuring nearly every creature included in the town’s population, all sheltered by a dragon’s unfurled wings. The Boones weren’t exactly subtle about their “patronage” of the town.
The Boones owned almost everything: the bank, the boat dealership, the grocery, the apothecary shop, the beauty salon, the hardware store, the book shop and, of course, the pie shop marked with “Bathtilda’s Pie Shop, Home of the World’s Best Chocolate Rhubarb Pie.” Each building was freshly painted and decorated with baskets overflowing with bright red geraniums. It was practically the town’s official flower, what with its mosquito repellent scent.
Resisting the muscle memory that demanded he pull the bike into its usual parking spot in front of the parish hall, he parked in front of Boone’s Hardware and Dry Goods. He picked at his damp shirt and sauntered into the store, with its strange collection of tools, hardware, pixie traps, and bottles of toadstool remover. Waving to Burton Boone, a stooped, ancient dragon-shifter with mutton-chop sideburns meant to hide his abundance of ear hair, Zed searched the plumbing section to replace the supplies he’d damaged. He crouched in front of a display of couplers, trying to remember the size he needed.
“I thought you’d already bought the supplies to fix Miss Lottie’s shower,” Bael said.
Zed jumped slightly and glared up at his closest friend in the world, who happened to be leaning against a rack of wrenches, his arms crossed over his tan uniform shirt. Zed prided himself on his senses, his ability to keep track of any predators that might try to sneak up on him. But dragons had almost no natural scent, and they moved as quietly as death. “Couillon! You know I hate it when you do that.”
“Watch your language in my shop, Mayor Berend!” Burton yelled from the front of the shop.
Bael scoffed at him. “You hate that I’m able to do that.”
“That, too,” Zed admitted, standing from his crouch. “I thought you were writing tickets out by the school this morning.”
“Eh, I caught Emily McAinsley speeding on her way to the yarn store again and we were both so traumatized by our last experience that I decided to call it a day.”
Zed gave a sage nod. “Probably for the best.”
“So what happened to the pipes you bought already? You step on ‘em and turn them into U’s?” Bael grinned.
Zed winced, scratching the back of his neck.
“I was just kidding!” Bael cried. “What did you do?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Did you break anything that was meant to hold up the house, that’s all I want to know. If it collapses, I’ll have to fill out a shit-ton of paperwork . . . Wait.” Bael stepped closer, sniffing lightly. “You smell like Jillian. Did she drop by the house?”
“Bael, you’re my best friend, but please don’t smell me. We’ve talked about this.”
Bael shrugged. “When you have a mate, you’ll understand.”
“I doubt it. A lot,” Zed told him. “But yeah, she drove that new League consultant by the house to show her around.”
“The dark-haired one? Dani? With the, uh…?” Bael paused to find the right word.
“Really nice llamas?” Zed suggested.
Bael nodded emphatically. “That’s the one.”
Zed’s dark brows rose and Bael jerked his shoulders. “I’m happily mated, not blind.”
“She is a looker, that’s for sure,” Zed responded. “And she and Jillian seemed to be getting on pretty well, which means she could be around a lot, so you should try to be a bit more blind to her llamas.”
“Thanks, but I am also not stupid.”
Zed carried his supplies to the counter, where he paid cash for them. Burton had not extended credit in the two hundred years he’d been in business. Zed noted that Burton did not so much as nod at his distant cousin in acknowledgement. Bael had been on the outs with most of his family since his relationship with Jillian had gone public. Bael was already considered drole among his family anyway, to the point that Bael was in danger of being disinh
erited by his grandfather, and being cut off from his portion of the family’s treasure horde. Once it got around that Bael was mated to a woman who was human? It didn’t even matter that Jillian had been transformed into a phoenix, after living so close to the rift’s energy. As far as the Boones were concerned, once human, always human, and Jillian was not worthy of carrying their precious dragon babies or the family gold. Bael was cast out and officially disowned.
Of course, for Bael that just meant he was left his own football-field-sized horde, as opposed to being Bill Gates-rich. But still, it was a big deal to dragons.
Zed watched Bael slide his aviator sunglasses on, as if being cold-shouldered by his own family didn’t gnaw at him. Burton was known to be a grade-A asshole when a beer hit him wrong, and had been personally driven home by Bael on multiple occasions instead of being charged with drunk driving. And yet, here he was, ignoring his cousin like Bael was somehow less of a dragon for falling in love with someone who was smarter and nicer than the awful scaled harridan that had been making Burton’s home life miserable for more than a century.
“Here’s your change, Mr. Mayor. Now please take that person out of my store,” Burton drawled, without looking at Bael.
Zed shoved his change in his pocket. “You’re an asshole, Burton. I’ve always thought so.”
Burton’s mouth fell open as Zed snatched his bag off the counter. Bael followed at a sedate pace as Zed stomped out of the shop.
“That wasn’t necessary,” Bael told him. “I appreciate it, but being called an asshole isn’t gonna change Burton. Also, you probably just lost his vote.”
“Well, it chaps my furry ass to see your family treating you that way when you’re the best of the lot. If they want to know real family shame, they should come meet some of my cousins.”
The corner of Bael’s mouth lifted, which was practically gushing since he wasn’t one for bro hugs.
Zed asked, “What were we talking about again?”
“Your fascination with the girl with nice llamas.”
“I wouldn’t say ‘fascinated.’ I just want to know who’s going to be living in one of fair town’s beloved landmarks.”
“Mmmhmm,” Bael murmured.
“What is it exactly that she does for the League?” Zed asked.
“I know it has to do with the rift, but not much else. Jillian said it was really complicated and I tried not to be offended that she didn’t think I was smart enough to understand it.”
“It’s probably not so much a question of smarts, as that time she was trying to explain ‘ethnomusicology’ to you at dinner and you fell asleep with your face in your pasta.”
Bael cried, “That happened once!”
“You snored. Loudly.”
“Once!”
Zed patted his friend’s shoulder. “That’s the sort of thing a girl remembers.”
2
Dani
Dani liked the look of the maison de fous very much. Most of the waterfront houses she’d passed had look like cracker boxes on stilts, all faded paint and slowly disintegrating wood. The layers of faded blue-gray stories were accented with eaves dripping with rust runoff. Each story had its own wraparound porch, protected by the scent of hanging geraniums. The top floor offered a cupola, which she imagined gave the inhabitant an amazing treetop view of the bayou. A dock extended from under the “ground floor” to the water, and some thoughtful soul and had set out a ring of comfortable looking, mismatched chairs, so one might enjoy the sunsets.
Dr. Jillian Ramsay, her liaison with the League, was leading her on a room-by-room tour of the house. As its last inhabitant, Jillian was clearly fond of each little nook and cranny. She pointed out the small animals carved from peach wood standing guard on the window sills, meant to protect the house from negative energy. She mentioned how meticulously Miss Lottie had cared for her furniture. And when they reached the bedroom that was to be Dani’s, Jillian just blushed and gestured for Dani to walk in.
It was a beautiful room, with high cathedral ceilings, white-washed walls and a huge bay window looking out on the trees. And the bed was . . . hanging from the ceiling?
Dani tilted her head as she examined the thick white silk ropes keeping the bed suspended from the high ceiling. “Hmm.”
Jillian’s cheeks were still tinged quite pink, but she found voice enough to say, “Actually, it’s a few years old. Theresa Anastas helped spin the silk for the ropes herself.”
“On a spinning wheel?”
Jillian shook her head. “Theresa is an arachnaed, a spider-shifter from Greece. She made the silk herself. She was very fond of Miss Lottie.”
Dani grinned broadly. She’d only met a handful of locals, but she liked this strange town full of nightmares and monsters. It wasn’t the smallest town she’d had ever stayed in, but it was close. Still, she felt safe here, despite the heat and humidity and the abundant wildlife that could do her serious harm. She’d spent so much time being different from everybody else. It hadn’t exactly filled her with angst. She was proud of her talent and the life she’d built with it. But it was nice to be in a place where she didn’t stand out. In Mystic Bayou, everybody was different, so no one was.
It had been particularly nice to meet the Mayor, Zed Berend, he of the god-like build and aversion to shirts. At first, Dani thought she was being set-up in some sort of awkward “welcome to the swamp” stripper prank, walking around the house to find a shirtless, wet man, shaking out his long dark locks in the breeze. But the show stopped at the shirt removal, not that it wasn’t enough to enjoy on its own. Because Zed had all of the muscles. She tried to be a better, more evolved person than someone who was attracted to a man because of his body, but seriously, all of the muscles.
And beyond the body, the man had a face forged by a divine hand—long, straight nose, ambitiously high cheekbones, and . . . probably a full mouth? It was kind of hard to tell under the thick dark beard. Dani normally preferred a clean-shaven face, after a boyfriend with a bizarre commitment to scruff had left her with rampaging beard rash on her thighs. But Zed clearly took care of his beard, probably with those artisan beard oils that always seemed to be on sale on Etsy. It looked really soft. She’d been tempted to reach out and touch it, but she figured that was a violation of personal space . . . and probably seven different kinds of etiquette here in Mystic Bayou.
His fog-over-ice gray eyes might have come across as hostile, if they weren’t so damn warm. They crinkled when he laughed, when he talked. If hints hadn’t been so broad about his bear shifter status, Dani might have guessed that he was one of those sexy woodsmen from a fairy tale. Or a sexy genie. Or a sexy huntsman. Basically any fairy tale stock character that required advanced upper body strength.
But she wasn’t here to ogle supernaturally attractive men. She was here to do a job. And she was being super-rude to Jillian by ignoring her tour.
“So why do they call it ‘maison de fous?’”
Jillian smiled at her. “It’s a long story. Do you want to hear it over a cup of tea? I think I left some chamomile in the kitchen cabinet.”
“I’d love a cup, even with this heat. I haven’t gotten used to the iced tea thing, yet,” Dani said.
Jillian gave her a sympathetic look. “Did you get confused when they offered you ‘sweet or unsweet?’”
“Yes. What in the hell is ‘unsweet?’ I’ve traveled around the world twice and I’ve never heard of it. And when I said so, the waitress at the truck stop in Houma gave me water.”
“You’ve mostly traveled outside of the American South, huh?” Jillian asked as Dani followed her down the rickety wooden steps to the tiny dollhouse kitchen, with its ancient refrigerator.
“I was born in Wisconsin, spent some of my toddler years in Arizona, and then I lost count of the places my dad decided we needed to visit. My passport couldn’t hold any more stamps by the time I was eight.”
“That sounds nomadic,” Jillian said as she pulled a kettle down from a hoo
k over the sink. Dani shrugged, sitting at the tiny breakfast table. “Well, for the record, they’re just asking if you want a plain glass of iced—unsweet. Some people prefer to sweeten it at their tables with the tiny colored packet of their choice. Others want the real deal—basically, rock candy added into boiling hot tea so the sugar dissolves evenly through the drink. I do not recommend trying it without a half-and-half mix of sweet and unsweet on the first try. Otherwise your dental enamel could spontaneously dissolve.”
“That sounds really complicated. I think I’ll just stick with Diet Coke.”
Jillian filled the kettle. “Probably for the best. Anyway, the house has been called maison de fous, the Fool’s House, since it was constructed more than a century ago. A sea captain named Worthen built it for a water sprite he’d fallen madly in love with. He retired from his navy commission and followed her into the bayou. He built the house to show her how much he wanted a life with her, to show her the sort of future he could give her. But she was just not that into him, rejected him pretty much at every turn, and he was so distracted by the constant refrains of ‘let’s just be friends’ that he didn’t really pay attention to what he was doing when he was building, or that his house in no way resembled anything that his neighbors lived in.”
“Are all sea sprites so freaking mean?” Dani asked.
Jillian set the kettle on the stove and pulled two mugs from the cupboard. One that said, “Loveland, Ohio—Home of the Loveland Frog,” and another that said, “Knitters grab life by the balls” in hot pink script over two round skeins of pink yarn.
Jillian spotted Dani staring at them and said, “They were a gift, which I should probably take home with me, before Mel’s feelings get hurt. I forgot them in the move. Bael already thinks I’m a mug hoarder, but he’s one to talk. But yeah, in my experience, they’re kind of the bitches of the sea. River nymphs, mermaids, rusalki, all much nicer.”
