by Sam Burns
“You really gonna do me like that, man? I love you.”
Devon shivered. “What is up with you Hunters today? Does impending disaster just wring out confessions of love? Is it a compulsion?”
“Whoa,” Jesse pulled a hand off the steering wheel and held it up. “Confessions of love? First, dude, of course I love you. You’re my best friend. But, uh, ‘we Hunters’? I’m sure you haven’t been fielding confessions from Uncle Nate, so . . . Wade, huh?”
Devon let his head fall against the headrest. It was surprisingly well-cushioned. “Yeah. I mean, I guess it’s not shocking, but it was kind of a surprise that he decided to say it while I’m in full-on panic mode. He would have had to try hard to find a worse time.”
Jesse snorted. “You’re complicating things, as usual.” They turned and looked to each other, both with eyebrows raised, and Jesse grinned. “Yeah, I know: pot, kettle. Still, you are. When Wade worries, he turns all protective and tries to give you what you need. But you don’t need much, and that drives him up the wall. So he gives anyway. Everything he’s got, ’cause it’s you, and he loves you. Dumbass.”
“Him or me?”
Jesse smirked at that. “Can’t it be both?”
“Makes us a heck of a trio,” Devon answered. “Poor Sean.”
Devon was a little worried they were going to get into an exceptionally childish mock-shoving match while Jesse was driving, but Jesse held back, and Devon leaned back against the headrest.
After a few moments, Jesse spoke again. “It’ll be okay, man. You love each other. You’re just scared.”
“Terrified.”
“I know.” Jesse pulled into the small lot where they always parked to go see Oak. They got out of the car in silence, but Jesse came around to the passenger side and engulfed Devon in a hug. “I swear, it’s gonna be okay. Whatever is going wrong now, we got this. And I assume if it were something important, you wouldn’t be making me wait.”
Devon rolled his eyes and turned to march into the forest. Thankfully, he’d worn his boots, so at least he wasn’t destroying his sneakers trudging into the woods.
A few minutes into the walk, Jesse shivered. “Dude, it’s getting cold. Hasn’t been this bad most of the winter.”
“Yeah. It’s going to get worse. Soon.” The words felt like they were creeping up his throat without his permission, a sensation that always left him feeling queasy. Devon was never sure, in these situations, whether he should try to continue, to get as many facts out as possible, or to clamp his mouth shut and insist on never talking again. For better or worse, he erred on the side of talking. “It’s going to start snowing tonight. We might as well cancel school tomorrow. And Monday. It’s going to be big.”
“Crap,” Jesse whispered. “That’s not what I was expecting. Is this what we’re going to see Oak about? A snowstorm?”
A brittle branch cracking ahead caught their attention, and both turned toward it.
Oak was standing in their clearing, running a hand up and down their scarred leg. They looked up at Jesse and Devon as the two men entered the clearing. “It causes some discomfort when the weather changes suddenly,” they said by way of explanation.
Devon nodded. “I feel like this is my fault. I could have warned you. I just didn’t know.”
“Hard to warn someone about something you didn’t know,” Jesse pointed out. “Someone told me you said it was gonna snow last night, but it didn’t. Everyone in town was surprised.”
“That’s because it hasn’t started yet. It’s going to snow. It’s going to be the worst storm the harbor has seen in a century.” The forest had gone silent around them. Jesse and Oak were watching Devon intently, and he felt like everything else was too. Sick as it made him feel, Devon kept going. “I’ve been seeing the clouds for more than a week. I thought it was normal for February in Oregon. It’s going to snow all weekend. We’ll be stuck. And we’re going to be so cold . . .” Devon trailed off, his voice losing strength. He almost felt like he was there as he spoke the words. The shimmering heat of a fire in the air. Teeth chattering. The hum of a familiar lullaby. A small whine—not a wolf, but something smaller and infinitely less dangerous.
“Devon?” Jesse was shaking his shoulder. “Devon, you gotta come back. What was that?”
“I don’t know.” He closed his eyes, trying to make sense of the distorted image. It flew apart in his mind and refused to re-form, like one of those annoying magic 3-D pictures. He shook his head and opened his eyes to look between Jesse and Oak. “I just know it’s going to be bad. And you two can’t help us.”
Jesse looked gutted, but Oak gave a solemn nod. “I trust that you will be able to handle this matter yourself, Devon Murphy. You are most capable, particularly when others are in need of your aid.”
Devon hoped they were right. He gave them a weak nod. “So, um, that was it. I started seeing the clouds a long time ago. And I’m getting a cold, which Wade thinks is important. I think he’s just being overprotective.”
“But that’s not fair,” Jesse whispered, still stuck on the previous subject. “You can’t—you can’t just tell me I can’t help.”
“It was not a demand, Jesse Hunter. I am certain no one sensible would refuse your help if they had the choice to accept it,” Oak said, calm and measured as ever. “It would seem that this is something Devon Murphy must handle on his own. You will likely be doing your part to protect Rowan Harbor as well.”
Jesse pursed his lips, and Devon could hear his teeth clamped together, grinding.
“Oak’s right, Jess. Especially if I can’t be there to help, the town needs you to take charge.” Devon put a hand on Jesse’s shoulder, then stopped and rethought his words. “Wow, that sounded self-important.”
Jesse leaned into him, giving him a shoulder shove. “It can be self-important and still true. This town needs you, to come together like we should. You better be okay, you asshole.”
“I will.” Devon brightened. “See? I’ll be okay.”
They nodded to each other, and Oak had learned enough about human interaction that they kindly refrained from pointing out the obvious—that Devon could probably live through a lot, but what about everyone else? Devon had said “can’t help us,” and they had no idea who else that might mean, or whether they would be as hardy as Devon.
“When this danger has passed, I must speak to you regarding recent and future events,” Oak announced, apparently deciding that the conversation about the storm was over.
Jesse looked as confused as Devon felt at the request. “Not now?”
Oak shook their head, just once, and slowly, as they did everything. “No. I require the presence of Fletcher Lane, Isla MacKenzie, and Cassidy Simon also.”
“Cass?” Jesse asked. “Have you even met Cass?”
“I have not, but I must do so.”
“Okay, Oak. We’ll bring them next time we come, after the snow passes,” Devon agreed. He didn’t know what Oak could want with the vampire bartender, or any of the rest of them for that matter, but if Oak made a request, he’d fulfill it if he could. He looked up at the forest canopy and the ever-darkening sky beyond. “We just need to get through the blizzard first.”
“Devon,” Oak said quietly, and that stopped him short. He didn’t think Oak had ever called him that before. It was always the polite and formal “Devon Murphy.”
He walked over to where they stood and leaned in. “Is everything okay?”
They put a hand on his shoulder and leaned in until their faces almost touched. “You need not fear the snow. It means you no harm.”
If it had been anyone but Oak, he’d have laughed it off as them messing with his mind, but they were completely earnest at all times. “I didn’t think it did. It’s just a storm.”
“No,” Oak said, blinking their huge, glowing eyes. “Never assume that. But remember that the snow is not as dangerous as the rain.”
And they turned around and headed back toward their tree, leaving a
confused Devon and Jesse watching after them.
3
The Blizzard
By the time they got back to the yarn shop, preparations for a blizzard were well underway in town. The grocery store parking lot was as busy as Devon had ever seen it. Something instinctive told him to stop and buy food, even though he was sure the apartment was stocked with enough food for himself and Wade for a week.
He chose not to think too hard on the fact that he’d automatically included Wade in that estimation. It was only sensible; Wade was always around.
Stinger, perfect and shiny as ever, was parked in the same place as usual, right in front of the shop. He looked up at the sky, and some tiny part of him wondered if he got into his father’s car and drove, if he could escape the storm.
Salli looked up at them when they came in. “Woo boy, you don’t look like that went well.”
“Have we had many customers?” Devon asked her.
She shook her head. “A few of the regulars, but you know the town gossip network. It moves fast. They say you’ve predicted the snowpocalypse, and everyone’s grabbing the things they want most and heading home. Alex called and asked if he needed to come in tonight, I told him not to bother. I also made a sign,” she said, pointing to the window, “to say we’re closing early. I’m sure half the town has heard about it by now, so if they need something, they’ll come sooner rather than later.”
Devon was always grateful for Salli, but he’d never been more grateful than he was right then. “Good plan. You can go home too if you want. Or to the grocery store or wherever you need to go.”
“Eh. I’ve got enough frozen fish to last till summer, and even if the power goes out, it’s not like it’s gonna thaw in this weather. Plus, I’ve hardly used any of my firewood yet, so I’m covered.” She grabbed her knitting bag and pulled out a pair of brown socks. “Finished these. Thought you might want them.”
She threw them to him, and he caught them against his chest. For a moment, he just marveled at the perfect rows of tiny, smooth cables.
“Dude, are you jealous of Salli’s knitting skills?” Jesse asked, leaning over Devon’s shoulder and looking at the socks. “It’s only socks, man. It’s not like a sweater or something. You can buy socks anywhere.”
Devon and Salli both turned to glare at him.
He threw his hands up defensively. “Okay, shutting up now!”
“Thank you, Salli.” Something in his brain suggested that he should put them on. He should bundle up now. It was going to be cold later. “You know what, I’m going to go change into warmer clothes. I’ll be right back.”
He changed quickly, putting on no less than three layers. Maybe it was uncomfortable now, but he figured it was better than freezing later. Thunder rumbled outside as he changed.
“I know, I know,” he mumbled at it. “You’re a jerk, by the way. Stupid storm.” There was a laugh from downstairs, and Devon figured Jesse had heard him. “You’re a jerk too. Stupid best friend.”
The laughter got louder. When he came back into the shop, Jesse was grinning at him and Salli was shaking her head in exasperation.
“Anyway,” she said, interrupting Devon’s glaring. “Apparently there’s going to be a town meeting this afternoon, assuming the snow hasn’t started yet. It’s weird that there’s thunder. Is that normal with snow?”
They both shrugged at her.
“I think I remember it happening before,” Devon said. “Maybe when I lived in Detroit? I’m not sure. I was eight or nine then.”
Salli nodded, but her attention was focused on the window. “Okay, you two should go next door and eat. Don’t tell me it’s only eleven, I’m sure you didn’t eat breakfast,” she said, pointing at Devon. Then she turned to Jesse, “And you’re basically a bottomless pit. You’re both going to need to be well-fed, so go. And bring me back food.”
Rather than argue with Salli, which never worked, they went. The bakery was quiet, but the shelves, usually full of breads and pastries, were also nearly empty.
Lachlan MacKenzie was leaning on the counter staring into space, and looked exhausted. He startled when they came in, then gave them a goofy grin. “Hey, you guys. Lunch? I hope you’re not here for bread. I mean, I can totally make sandwiches, but we’re out of almost everything else.”
“Lunch,” Devon agreed. “And Salli’s to go when we leave, please.” As he always did in The Gingerbread House, Devon pulled out his wallet and put money on the counter.
Lachlan, like most business people in Rowan Harbor, didn’t like to charge Devon. They called it the “council tax,” and said that it was their way of paying for the council members’ service to the community. He was getting used to the treatment from some people, but he was never going to take anything for free from the bakery. So instead of making things uncomfortable with Lachlan, he left his money on the counter and pretended that was normal.
As they were settling into chairs, the reason for Devon’s hesitance to accept free goods from the bakery breezed in. Helena Mackenzie. Lachlan’s mother, the bakery’s owner, and Devon’s grandmother’s archnemesis. When Gran had left town, she’d decided Devon was a good substitute for her ire.
She pursed her lips and looked at them, practically ignoring Jesse. Devon wondered if she got some kind of tunnel vision when she noticed him. He wished he understood why she was determined to hate him, no matter how nice he tried to be.
“Devon Murphy. Is there some reason you’re sitting around my shop when the town has gone into a panic over one of your little ‘predictions’?” She said it like his word was suspect, even though he’d never told an actual lie in his life.
He heard Jesse take a breath, so he rushed to speak up first. “We’re here to eat. It seems like a good idea to do that before the storm moves in. Would you prefer we eat somewhere else?”
As she always did when she failed to get a rise out of him, she shrugged it off and turned her back. She marched through into the office, and they all jumped a little when the door slammed behind her.
Lachlan, who was still standing behind the counter, sighed. “That’s why you don’t come in as much as when you first got back, isn’t it?”
“Salli doesn’t like it. She says I shouldn’t come in here to be abused,” Devon said. It was sad, because Lachlan was the most amazing baker Devon had ever encountered. “Not that Salli’s the boss of me. But she kind of is, a little.”
“You should understand that, Lach,” Jesse said with a wide smile. Lachlan looked up at him nervously, obviously expecting a joke about how he was a mama’s boy who always followed Helena’s orders. Jesse wasn’t interested in the man’s relationship with his mother, though. “You’d like Salli to be the boss of you, too.”
Lachlan blushed bright red and turned to look at his work. After a second, he muttered, “You would too, if you weren’t gay.”
“Nothing wrong with liking strong women,” Devon agreed. “And Salli’s the best. I keep hoping she’ll just come down here one day and carry you off with her.”
The knife Lachlan had been using hit the counter in front of him with a loud thunk as his eyes glazed over. He recovered quickly, and somehow, blushed even brighter. His voice was almost a whisper when he spoke up again. “You know why Mom hates you, right?”
Devon blinked. That wasn’t the subject he’d been expecting.
“I asked my mom,” Jesse said, as though that weren’t a revelation to Devon. “She said it’s because Helena wants a seat on the council.”
“What?” That seemed shallow, as reasons went. Devon shook his head and looked between the two other men, who were nodding, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Then why me? Why not Jesse, or Max, or Madame Cormier?”
“Mr. Smith and Madame Cormier are scary,” Lachlan answered. “Like, really scary. And Jesse has a specific purpose on the council, and she doesn’t want to be that.”
Jesse gave him a dry, amused look. “So she’s arrogant enough to think she
deserves a spot, but not arrogant enough to think she can jump in as amateur general to a non-existent army? Does she not realize that D has a specific purpose on the council too?”
Lachlan shrugged helplessly.
For a fraction of a second, Devon entertained the idea. He could tell Helena to have fun with it and leave. Head for California without even eating his sandwich. The town wouldn’t accept her, but was that his problem? She wanted the position so much she was willing to treat him like dirt over it.
“You’re overthinking this,” Jesse said, without even looking at Devon. “Don’t let her get into your head, man. Do you really see Helena offering up advice on how to deal with personal problems? Oh kind, wise Helena, please tell me how to ask a cute boy to prom?”
Lachlan almost choked on nothing, taking a moment to compose himself before piling everything on a tray and bringing their food out. He was whispering again, despite the fact that there was no way his mother could hear them with the office door closed. “He’s right, Devon. I love Mom, more than almost anyone else. But she’d be terrible at helping people with their problems the way you do. I don’t think she gets that it’s part of your job.”
“She just saw a stranger come into town and take a position she wanted.” Devon actually felt a little bad for her. It would have been frustrating, someone decades younger than her, and with no experience, taking something she thought should be hers.
Jesse rolled his eyes. “Oh joy, the great prestige of being on the council, answering to people like her, and being on call twenty-four seven. Just what everyone aspires to.”
“I don’t know if she really even wants the job,” Lachlan said. After setting their food in front of them, he sat down next to Devon and leaned in conspiratorially. “She just sees it as a slight against the family, that there isn’t a MacKenzie on the council. We arrived after the town was founded, and she thinks they still see us as outsiders.”
Devon gaped at him. Outsiders? Helena had been born in Rowan Harbor. So had her children.
