The Falcon's Full House

by Candace Colt

  With an eye on the folder, Ian filled two more drink orders and came back to Rachel. "So, you like it?"

  "The water?" She took another sip. "It's fine. I see some bottles of Moonbow in your case back there. I wish somebody would tell me about this special water thing."

  Ian made a quick headshake and waved. "Later. In here isn't a good place."

  "Huh?"

  "Trust me. But I meant, did you like the portfolio?" He asked.

  "Oh, gosh yes. I've never seen anything quite like it before." She turned it to face Ian. "Look. It even has my initials on it."

  "Your handiwork, Ian?" The second bartender asked as he passed behind.

  Rachel cocked her head, looked at Ian and back at the leather folder.

  "You made this?" She asked.

  He nodded.

  "Wow. Just wow. You stitched and tooled it?"

  He nodded, again.

  "Man, you do good work."

  "And he makes a mean fruit drink. You should try one," the second bartender said.

  "No alcohol today, please," Rachel said. "But I'm ready for a coffee. Any good places around here?"

  "The Hallowed Bean's a couple blocks over," Ian said.

  "Great. Will I see you later?" Rachel hopped off the barstool, gathered her belongings, and waited for Ian's reply.

  "I don't get off work until five," he said.

  "Once I run errands, Solange doesn't have anything planned for me tonight. She wants me to get familiar with the town, so, how about I come back when your shift ends. We can go to the parade together." She turned to leave, then doubled back. "Maybe I should get your phone number just in case."

  Phone number. Umm. There's a bit of a problem.

  Ian hadn't gotten around to buying a phone gadget. He'd lived this long without one, why start now?

  More critical, Rachel cleverly got one past him. Had she set a time to meet him for what sounded like a date?

  As long as he lived, he'd never get used to these modern women.

  SEVEN

  Only the clueless believe birds don't eat much.

  Rachel grew up in a big family with a grocery bill to match. But this Ford brood was something else altogether. Granted, Solange's son Ryan and his family lived here, too. Still, there was a lot of eating going on in this household.

  After stowing canned goods, snacks, meat, fish, cheese, fresh produce, and a boat-load of condiments, Rachel sat at the breakfast counter. She unfurled the foot-long register tape and confirmed her bags contained everything on Solange's list. All three-hundred and six dollars-worth.

  Good thing Solange suggested Rachel take the SUV. Though the sexy Jag sitting next to it in the garage was to die for, it wouldn't have been practical for transporting this load.

  Before her store run, Rachel had sipped coffee at the Hallowed Bean and reread Solange's Expectations. Not many bases uncovered.

  Weekly grocery run and errands. Check.

  Evening meal preparation. Check.

  Bartend for parties. Check.

  Assist Solange as needed with business affairs. Check.

  And the dreaded last line found in every job description. Various duties to be discussed later. Rachel had no inkling what those were. But short of bank robbery or murder for hire, how bad could it be?

  Solange even detailed the evening menus for an entire month. Tonight, scallops in garlic butter served over jasmine rice with a side of asparagus. Ryan was vegan, so his meal would be prepared separately. All to be served promptly at five-thirty.

  No big deal. Rachel's vagabond stint included working in some of Europe's best restaurants. Once the kitchen was tidied, and the Fords seated, her responsibilities for the day ended. There was plenty of time to meet Ian.

  The only dilemma she had right now? What to wear.

  This wasn't truly a date night. Ian seemed connected to everyone, so she figured he would be an excellent person to hang with and meet people. Thinking back, she wondered if maybe she should have explained it to him. She didn't want him getting the wrong idea.

  He was super nice. Attractive. And after watching him haul a full keg like it was a laundry bag, he was strong. He looked about her age. But he was an old soul.

  There was an aura of wisdom about him, especially in those eyes. He'd be a perfect friend.

  Just what she needed since she had no plans for romantic relationships. Those wore her out and interfered with her lifestyle.

  Solange came into the kitchen just as Rachel finished wiping down the counters.

  "My dear, the scallops were done just as I like them." She inspected the contents of the refrigerator, nodding approval at what she saw. "Good work."

  The key to success here would be precision and accuracy.

  "Glad you enjoyed it." Rachel glanced at the clock on the stove. If she hurried, she'd be back to town on time. "If you don't need anything else—"

  "There is one more thing to discuss. Something rather sensitive." Solange took a seat at the breakfast counter.

  Rachel took the cue to sit across from her. She had a creepy premonition she was about to get the first duty as assigned. She hoped it wasn't something she had to do tonight.

  "This isn't in your handbook." Solange adjusted her position.

  Rachel nervously waited until Solange ended her long pause.

  "It's about shifting," she said.

  "Shifting?" Rachel blinked and shook her head.

  "Elenora Ellingham is a fine woman, and without her family's generosity, this town and the whole community wouldn't exist. I'm sure you're aware, there aren't many places where we can live in peace," Solange said.

  Rachel tightened her folded fingers until she thought they'd break. One thing she hated above all else was a lengthy preamble to the point of a conversation. This so felt like the beginning of a discipline lecture from her high school principal or her father.

  "But there are some rules," Solange continued.

  Here it comes. Expectations.

  Rachel was about to burst. "You mentioned shifting."

  "Never before nightfall." Solange wagged a finger. "And never, under any circumstance, shift in town or anywhere where the tourists might witness it. There are occasional emergencies, but those are too rare to note."

  For once in her life, a rule made sense. Humans would die on the spot to witness the transformation to a falcon. Or a wolf. Or a bear. She'd heard there were many kinds here.

  "I understand," Rachel said. "But how do you resist the temptation? The woods behind your estate are perfect."

  "Nothing prevents a night flight out here. And you're right about our perfect location. We all take advantage of it. I won't lie to you. I've risked a day flight too many times. But I don't dare again."

  "I see." Of course, the no-shifting rule immediately lit Rachel's desire to fly. "If I may, I'd like to go now. The Parade's tonight."

  "Certainly. By the way, my sons and their wives are planning to take me on a ten-day Caribbean cruise for my birthday."

  "Wonderful," Rachel said.

  "You'll be fine here with the twins. But we can talk more tomorrow. Have a wonderful time tonight." Solange slid off the stool. "Oh, and if you want, take the Jag. Ciao."

  Rachel sat stone-faced for a full minute before it all sunk in.

  Drive the Jag tonight. Check.

  House to herself for ten days. Check.

  Take care of the twins. What?

  "Wait a minute, Solange."

  Rachel rushed through the kitchen, the dining room, living room and to Solange's closed office door. Inside Solange was on the phone. The woman had made it clear when the door was open, Rachel was welcome. Otherwise, not.

  She had to nip this in the bud, but diplomatically. Why would this family trust their infants to a woman they'd just met? Turning this down might well mean her job was history. Goodbye fancy home, good money and cute little town.

  "You might have
a long wait."

  Rachel snapped to attention and turned around.

  "She's on a conference call," Jess said. "Anything I can help you with?"

  "Uh. Maybe. Solange told me about the cruise. I have a couple of questions," Rachel said.

  "I'm sure you do. I suspect she told you about taking care of the babies."

  "I'm not sure I'm the best choice."

  "Nonsense. I have a sense you'll be perfect. In fact, it was my idea and Ryan and I planned to talk to you first. I guess my mother-in-law took the bull by the horns, again. Tell you what. If I can get someone to watch the girls during the day, can you take over at night? How's that for a compromise?"

  Half days sounded a little better. Babies sleep at night. So, there shouldn't be much to do besides hanging around the house. She could manage fine for ten days.

  "Before we leave, we should let you take care of the girls by yourself to get used to their routines." Jess tapped her chin. "Here's an idea. Tomorrow Solange, Ryan and I need to go into town. You can help me with the girls' baths before we leave you with them for a few hours."

  Bathe a baby? Leave them alone with her tomorrow? Wasn't it too soon?

  Rachel's head buzzed. Until she was almost in the city limits, Rachel hadn't appreciated she was driving one sweet car.

  Still, one question churned in her mind.

  What were those babies' names?

  EIGHT

  Who knew parking would be a nightmare?

  Breathless after sprinting six blocks from where she left the car, Rachel spotted Ian towering over the crowd. She called his name but there was no way her voice carried through the shoulder-to-shoulder packed humanity.

  She wiggled through dozens of costumed kids and adults, and around lawn chairs. Until she sidled up to him and tapped him on the shoulder.

  "Sorry, I'm late," she said.

  He acknowledged her with the sweetest smile. "No problem. You didn't miss anything."

  Since both she and Ian were tall, they stepped back to allow a better view for the shorter children and their parents.

  Several people had babies. Some strapped in backpacks or front-loaded carriers.

  Rachel looked around for those about the same age as the Ford twins. Those she saw were content for the most part, or asleep.

  Ian bent to her ear. "The band's coming around the corner."

  A family nudged in for a better view and Rachel motioned to them to step in front of her. The father hoisted a child on his shoulder and as the kid's legs swung around, one foot smacked the back of Rachel's head.

  The father apologized and Rachel mouthed it's okay as she rubbed her head anticipating an imminent goose egg.

  People closed in for a better look, pushing Rachel into Ian. He juggled his angle so she stood in front of him, her back protected from further attack.

  And put him tight against her.

  Electricity skittered over her, but not from the pain of a head kick. Perhaps if she stood still, it would pass. And maybe he'd step back. And Santa Claus would bring up the end of a May parade.

  He didn't move. She didn't move. And the sensation didn't subside. She had to focus on something. Thank God for the high school cheerleaders in their black and orange outfits.

  Behind them, the band played "Thriller." Then came the Garden Club ladies dressed as Tippi Hendren in 1960s suits and pillbox hats; straight out of the Birds movie. Behind them marched a group of adorable children dressed in crow and seagull outfits.

  The Tippi's tossed packets of flower seeds to the crowd. As one flew their way, Ian and Rachel reached for it, and their hands joined as they grasped the prize. Ian paused a moment before he released, allowing Rachel the win.

  Fortunately, the sun had almost set, disguising her blushing face. She hoped.

  Behind the birds was a group of adults dressed in remarkably well-designed costumes. One man wore a scientist's lab jacket. One of his arms was an insect pincher and his head was an all-too-real large fly. Another person walked past wrapped in gauze like a mummy. Two space aliens held hands and pushed a baby carriage.

  Rachel blinked her eyes. Another baby? Are they everywhere?

  Three witches pushed a cauldron, stopping now and again to recite Shakespeare's 'Toil and Trouble' and toss beads to the crowd.

  Interspersed were floats of all creepy and not-so-creepy kinds. A colorful red and gold Chinese dragon snaked past followed by a float covered in crawly spiders. A giant pumpkin opened like a jack-in-the-box. When Freddy Kruger burst out, the crowd raised a collective gasp.

  The delightful show continued for another half-hour. Floats, people in costume on stilts. A ukulele band dressed as clowns strummed and sang the theme from the Adams Family.

  As the final entry passed, Rachel didn't want it to end.

  She and Ian stood a few minutes while the throng around them thinned. Ian stepped a courteous distance away as Rachel realized he'd been cocooned against her the entire time.

  "That was so much fun," she said. "Is it all over?"

  "The party goes on in the park. Most stores stay open late tonight and if they aren't too crowded, I can introduce you to some of the shopkeepers."

  "It's only eight," Rachel said. "Let's go."

  ~~~

  What was this curious feeling?

  Ian swore his heart skipped a beat when he spotted Rachel waving at him as she weaved through the crowd. He'd about given up on her.

  He felt his heart stir again when she stood in front of him. Even in the human crush around them, he detected the fresh, clean scent of her skin. And he couldn't help staring at the curious lock in the shape and color of a feather, in stark contrast to the rest of her ebony hair.

  He'd tried to maintain a gentleman's distance from her, but the crowd didn't cooperate. Several times he'd brushed against her backside. It had been a long time since he'd responded in that way.

  She had watched the parade with the same excitement as the children around them. A pleasant surprise. Perhaps under her hard exterior lived a joyful, childlike woman. While they walked to the park, he answered Rachel's bucket full of questions. Encouraging to know she had a healthy interest in learning about the town.

  He had questions of his own, but ones he couldn't ask.

  Ian had no idea how old she was, but he guessed in her twenties. For Solange to take her into her home, Rachel must have impeccable references and experience. For Ryan and Connor's sake, Ian wanted to get a better reading into her heart. But this crazy setting wasn't ideal.

  And she had some big shoes to fill. Everyone who knew Sabrina loved her. When she left, people wondered how Solange would manage.

  Though Ian didn't live in Nocturne Falls when Sabrina arrived, he'd heard she came here a wounded soul. The Sabrina he knew was confident and self-assured. Life in Solange's household wasn't all bad.

  Ian bought two bottles of water and an order of hot cinnamon and sugarcoated pecans. They sat on a bench in the town square, shared the pecans, and watched people.

  "I've been meaning to ask since the night at Solange's, how do you tell non-magicals from magicals?" She asked in a low tone.

  "During festivals like this, unless you know them personally, you can't."

  A large gargoyle ambled through the crowd and caught Rachel's attention. It paused occasionally to nod or wink, and pose for photos.

  "It's one of those robot things at the theme parks, right?"

  The gargoyle slowly approached Ian and Rachel. When he was close, he bent over and whispered, "Hey, Ian. Good to see you tonight. And you too, lovely lady."

  He straightened and strolled to the next bench.

  "Clever, clever, clever. It called you by name." She scanned the crowd. "So, where's the computer operator? I don't see one anywhere."

  Ian made sure no one was close enough to overhear. "He's real."

  "Real what?" Rachel popped a handful of pecans in her mouth.

  "
Gargoyle."

  Rachel spit the nuts out, showering her lap.

  "You're joking."

  Ian handed Rachel her water. "No. I'm not. They think we are actors and performers. We must be careful and not let the tourists see our real identities."

  He tucked a strand of his hair behind his ear. "All of us have to be careful."

  Rachel sat tall and looked at his ear again. "It's real, too? Not altered or something?"

  He flashed a bashful smile and flicked the point. "When tourists see these, they think they are part of a costume. Go ahead. Touch it."

  "Oh, I couldn't. I mean, it would be rude." Her eyes riveted on the ear. "People might see me and think I was crazy." She paused. "Maybe if I just untucked a strand."

  She moved the lock from behind his ear for a second and patted it flat.

  Her face blanched. "Oh, my. Real flesh, isn't it?"

  He slowly nodded.

  "You were born like this?"

  "I was."

  "You're an elf?"

  "Half-elf."

  She took a deep breath. "Where can we go to get a drink?"

  "I know just the place."

  NINE

  Talk about feeling right at home.

  Rachel's energy level shot to the moon as she walked into Howler's Bar.

  "Hope you won't be disappointed," Ian said as they took a seat across from each other in a booth.

  "Are you kidding? I love it. And do I smell food?" She asked.

  "Well, Ian Hunter. Out slumming tonight, eh?" A tall auburn-haired woman stood by their table. Her smile revealed shiny pearl-colored teeth.

  "Hey, occasionally I need to see how the other half lives. Bridget, meet Solange Ford's new assistant, Rachel."

  Bridget's firm handshake meant business. Was this a subtle warning to stay away from Ian, or was she naturally dominant? Rachel picked up another subtle signal. The woman was a shifter. But what kind?

  "Good to meet you. Welcome to my fine establishment. It might not be as classy as the Pub, but our customers like it," Bridget said.

  Ian rolled his eyes and laughed. "Okay, Bridget. You're laying the guilt on quite thick."