15

I t sounded like Maxwell knew exactly what that price was, but he clearly didn’t plan to elaborate. Not here. Not now.

Overwhelmed by the dizzying weight of his grief now pouring into her too in this place, Rebecca had to take this shifter at his word.

He’d given it with all intention of providing her an explanation later, which meant she had to accept it, grin and bear the nearly unbearable curiosity driving everything now, and wait for the right moment.

When that right moment would be, she had no idea. But he’d left her no other option.

So with a nod, she reluctantly removed her hand from the shifter’s arm and joined him around the side of the house and toward the back. Where they’d all been invited.

Diving blindly into something she couldn’t even begin to understand. With dangers and consequences she was painfully unequipped to predict, prepare for, or even handle, if it came to that.

She really hoped it didn’t, because for the first time in a long time, she’d just willingly put herself in someone else’s hands.

Maxwell’s, yes, and the hands of the gray-haired man who’d opened the door for them.

As they walked around the side of the house—the sun almost hanging at its highest point now and lighting up the farmland that seemed to go on forever in every direction, speckled with groves of trees along rivers and small ponds—an entirely new perspective entered her awareness.

This must have been exactly how Maxwell had felt following her around through all her past secrets, and elven politics, and shitty connections over the last few weeks. Especially in that rotting temp trailer in the woods with Rowan.

Just as the shifter had no understanding of or experience with her world, she was completely out of her element now in his.

The best thing for her to do now was to watch and listen and try not to get involved before she fully understood what she was dealing with.

Something told her that last bit would be far more difficult than the others, especially with the changes in Maxwell since the moment he’d told her this was Shade’s only real chance.

But she would stay beside him through all of it. She’d made that silent promise to them both and fully intended to keep it.

When they rounded the back corner of the farmhouse, the sight spreading out before them would have filled her with awed gratitude and relief under normal circumstances.

Rebecca’s capacity for feeling such things had filled nearly to bursting, thanks to her connection with the shifter and his endless storm of emotions far too complex to grasp.

But she could still appreciate the beauty of this place, regardless.

Calling it a back yard would have been a massive understatement.

This single property was so much larger and more expensive than immediately visible from the front. Open farmland stretching out behind the house nearly as far as she could see, all the way up to the woods trailing in a line acres away, with the barely audible rush of a river softly underlying the odd chirp of crickets and the constant cicada droning apparently unaffected by the sunrise.

The property lines marked by high fences in the distance surrounded at least ten acres, though probably more, behind the farmhouse. Settled a quarter-mile back beside a thick row of blackberry brambles was a two-story barn. The window in the loft hung open to let in the buzzing, lazily muggy air.

Behind that was a second barn, though, Rebecca couldn’t see much through the thick trees that had sprouted up around it.

To the east were several cornfields, the crops already immensely high. To the west stretched a seemingly endless sea of golden wheat stalks swaying in the breeze, even with the growing burden of wheat-heads bending them toward the ground.

Comfortably spaced apart within the back yard surrounded by the growing crops, several other outbuildings dotted the freshly mowed grass. Doubtful these were working barns in the traditional sense. There was no sound of animals or hint of their odor in the air. Just the muggy, sweet scent of the lawn now dry after the morning dew had long since dissipated and the wheat fields in the distance.

Though Rebecca did spot a small, thin-looking dog trotting across the back of the property, the animal could have belonged to anyone.

Something told her, in this part of the state, leash laws and the fear of strange animals on one’s property were far less prevalent here.

All that she took in just at a first quick glance.

Closer to the main house were a dozen or more picnic tables scattered randomly, with plenty of remaining space to double their numbers.

Among the other outbuildings, Rebecca recognized the differences in a number of erected yurts and small trailers parked along the property, clothes lines strung up between them and the outer edges of narrow fences.

Apparently, they’d stepped into some kind of compound, or at least a property that frequently housed large groups of visitors on a regular basis.

Or guests , as Maxwell had made abundantly clear.

Shade members milled around the open space, shuffling across the grass, eyeing their new temporary sanctuary with curiosity dampened by exhaustion. Plus the fact that no direction had been given, leaving a suspended uncertainty lingering over the entire situation.

Only the pulsing buzz of cicadas and the faint rush of the river beyond the property’s stretching line of trees in the distance filled the otherwise peacefully lulled air.

Then a door at the back of the farmhouse opened, letting out another flood of the same overpowering odor of the meal cooking inside. An exterior screen door creaked slightly as it opened next, then the same gray-haired man who hadn’t actually greeted them on his front porch stepped into the muggy shade of his house, his boots clomping across the much smaller wooden deck in the back.

This time, a woman joined him. About the same age, though her hair was mostly a rich dark brown with streaks of aging gray, the top of it pulled back in a loose half-ponytail behind her head. She also wore jeans and leather work boots, though whether she preferred the button-down long-sleeved shirts like her partner was unclear; she’d also donned a thin gray sweater.

But she stopped beside the gray-haired man to stand at his right, tall and proud and watchful as she surveyed the unexpected strangers now turned refugees inhabiting the back of her property.

A shifter matriarch, perhaps? Rebecca could only guess. She knew nothing of Maxwell’s world and constantly reminded herself of that.

For all intents and purposes, she might as well have been on a different planet altogether.

After a long, silent moment of studying the Shade members scattered haphazardly across the back lawn, the gray-haired man finally lifted his chin and inhaled deeply through his nose.

In a proud, steady voice enhanced by commanding authority, he announced, “We receive guests today and a request for refuge and shelter from those in need. The request has been accepted, seven days offered. Welcome them as you would welcome our own.”

The man’s voice seemed to fill the entire property like air pumped into a balloon.

Though it was heartening to hear they’d all been officially accepted as guests, the off-putting fact that he made such an announcement to an empty yard and empty fields beyond didn’t quite offer the same level of reassurance.

There was no one else here.

The creak of rusty hinges behind her made Rebecca turn toward the sound just as a door within the closest trailer opened slowly, followed by a wide-eyed woman in her early forties peeking her head out to assess the new guests. She was merely the first.

The air quickly filled with the creak and groan of other doors opening, the soft whisper of bare feet or soft-soled shoes, and the familiar thump of heavy boots filled the air. Tent and yurt flaps ruffled aside.

The clack of a door gently closing came from the closest barn with the open loft window, all painted the same color as the farmhouse, but Rebecca didn’t see who had closed that door—if anyone had stepped out of the barn or had simply stolen a peek at their visitors before retreating back inside.

She was too busy watching what felt like a massive wave of people emerging from every outbuilding behind the farmhouse, all of which had previously seemed empty until proving otherwise.

Men and women of every age emerged from the buildings with calm, compassionate smiles, eyes wide in curiosity as they filtered among the Shade members standing there in numb realization.

Or maybe they were all too exhausted to react in any other way.

Then came the urgent, rapid patter of much smaller feet. Rebecca caught a glimpse of three small children, the oldest no more than nine or ten, racing out of one trailer only to dart behind the next outbuilding to peer at their unexpected guests from around the corner.

Several other children did the same. Some of the younger ones emerged with their mothers and fathers, hiding behind the legs of adults as they gaped at the strangers entering their world.

Two younger women carried bundles of swaddling blankets around silent infants in their arms.

It all happened at once. No time to count the figures emerging from their homes after the gray-haired man’s announcement. But it seemed entirely possible that there were more of them than there were Shade members standing on the lawn.

Every new face lit up with open excitement and obvious pleasure as they milled around the open space. No one seemed aggravated or discomforted by their new guests, as if the entire property and all its inhabitants were here for the sole purpose of housing and aiding and welcoming with open arms any stranger and traveler in need of a little extra help.

A middle-aged man with blonde hair cropped particularly short stopped in front of Burke and flashed him a brilliant grin.

“Mornin’,” he said, extending a hand. “Call me Terrence. Good to see ya.”

Burke looked entirely shell-shocked for a moment, but he quickly shook himself out of it and accepted Terrence’s open hand. “Burke. Thanks for…all of this. We really—”

“Naw, don’t mention it. We’re happy to help. Come on. I’ll show you around, then we’ll get you and yours settled in a bit, huh?”

Burke and the others around him exchanged surprised and grateful looks, then followed Terrence across the yard.

Then it seemed everyone was talking all at once.

“You look exhausted . Don’t worry, we’ll take care of that for you faster than you can say, ‘Where’s a bed?’”

“Well, look at the size of you . That barn loft’s definitely off limits, but we’ll find you something. Hey, have you ever pulled a field plow? I’d put money on you being faster than the damned mules. And smarter.”

Titus’s rumbling bellow of hearty laughter boomed across the property.

Then Rebecca could no longer pick out the individual conversations among the mingling dozens of them breaking out all at once.

The children crept from their hiding places behind the buildings, sneaking closer in groups of two or three, driven by an insatiable curiosity about such a large number of visiting strangers.

The shyness didn’t last long, broken instantly by a young girl’s bubbly, unfettered laughter when Nyx peered down at her. The katari summoned a glittering bubble of light on her fingertip before letting it burst in a shower of glittering specks and violet light.

Then the children ran wild everywhere, shouting at each other and laughing, asking poignantly direct questions in high-pitched voices as they quickly weeded out the more kid-friendly operatives.

No more shyness and confusion once courage and independence and insatiable curiosity took their place to quickly run the show.

Gentle support and encouragement came from every direction while the operatives broke away in small groups to follow the shifters who’d greeted them.

Soon enough, the rhythmic echo of hammers pounding against nails added to the noise, joined by chittering morning birdsong from the trees along the riverbank.

It seemed everyone had a place to be and a job to do. No one left behind in cluelessness or neglect while laughter rose in small pockets amidst the conversation.

Clearly, Shade now found themselves exactly where they needed to be, only too grateful for the kindness and hospitality of more strangers than they could count.

More shifters than they could count.

Rebecca had to keep reminding herself of that single poignant detail, which, at a glance, didn’t seem to matter much at all.

It was almost a miracle, honestly. If she’d believed in those.

Almost, but not quite.

Despite the undeniably joyful acceptance and open willingness this surprisingly large group of shifters exuded toward Shade, Rebecca still intensely felt the hidden emotions from one other shifter standing beside her.

And they did not match the setting.