Page 20 of Kiss for My Kraken (Fairhaven Falls #8)

“ O rder up! Table twelve!”

Nina grabbed the loaded plates from the pass-through window and loaded them onto a tray. The savory aroma of garlic and herbs rose from the hearty dishes, making her mouth water despite having sampled the special earlier.

“Need a hand with those?” George asked, his golden eyes flicking momentarily from the beer taps.

“Got it covered,” she said with a confidence that would have surprised her former self. Although she still preferred working in the kitchen, she’d also taken a few shifts as a server when Annabelle or Molly couldn’t make it in.

She wove easily through the packed tables with the heavy tray. The lunchtime crowd at the Moonlight had grown steadily since she’d started working in the kitchen and word had spread about her additions to the menu.

As she delivered the plates to a werewolf couple at the table by the door, the female grinned at her, revealing intimidating fangs.

“This looks amazing,” she said, her eyes gleaming with appreciation. “I heard you’ve been adding your own touch to the cornbread.”

“Just a little honey and jalapeno. Nothing fancy.”

“Well, it’s delicious. We come in twice as often now.” The female winked. “My mate would eat it every day if I let him.”

Moments like these still caught her off guard—the casual acceptance, the easy banter, the sense of being not just tolerated but valued.

Back in Haven’s Grace, she’d been taught to keep her head down, to be invisible, to serve without expectation of recognition.

Here, her contributions were acknowledged and even celebrated.

“Let me know if you need anything else,” she said, her cheeks pink as she returned to the kitchen.

Ben was hunched over the grill, his ears twitching as he flipped burgers.

Despite his perpetually grumpy demeanor, she’d learned to read the subtle shifts in his mood.

Today, his ears were angled slightly forward—a good sign.

When they flattened completely against his head, that’s when they all knew to tread carefully.

“Twelve’s sorted,” she reported. “I’ll start prepping the appetizers for tonight now.”

Ben grunted as she moved to the prep station and started pulling out vegetables.

“Nina!” Annabelle’s blue head poked through the door, iridescent wings shimmering. “Molly’s running late. Can you cover her section for another fifteen minutes?”

“Sure thing,” she replied, wiping her hands on her apron. “Ben, can the apps wait?”

Another grunt, this one slightly more irritated but still within acceptable parameters as she slipped out of the kitchen.

The lunch rush was winding down, but several tables still needed attention. She moved between them, refilling drinks, clearing plates, and answering questions about the menu with the expertise of someone who’d been there for years rather than weeks.

At table seven, a mixed group of humans and Others were engaged in an animated discussion about the upcoming Halloween festival, Elara among them.

“Nina!” Elara waved her over. “Perfect timing. We need an unbiased opinion. Is it better to have the fortune-telling booth near the food stalls or by the duck pond?”

“Definitely by the pond,” she said thoughtfully. “The reflections on the water at night will add to the mystical atmosphere.”

“See?” Elara turned triumphantly to the others. “I told you.”

A huge troll—a local mechanic, if she remembered correctly—shook his massive head. “Fine, fine. But if Gladys’s duck gets possessed again like last year, I’m blaming you both.”

The table erupted in laughter, and she found herself joining in, even though she had no idea what had happened with Gladys’s duck. It didn’t matter. She was part of the conversation.

This is what belonging feels like, she realized with a sudden, warm certainty.

The tavern door swung open, letting in a gust of crisp autumn air along with Molly, her pale vampire complexion flushed with uncharacteristic color.

“Sorry I’m late!” she called, rushing over to the bar. “Family emergency. Sort of. My cousin accidentally shipped himself to Boston in a coffin. Long story.”

Nina handed off the section with a smile, returning to the kitchen where Ben was working on the appetizers she’d started. She resumed her position at the prep station.

“Not terrible,” Ben commented gruffly, nodding towards the dining room. “Your serving.”

Coming from Ben, this was effusive praise. She ducked her head to hide her smile. “Thanks.”

The rest of the lunch shift passed in the usual comfortable routine. By mid-afternoon, the tavern had emptied except for a few regulars nursing drinks at the bar. She wiped down the kitchen counters, mentally cataloging ingredients for tomorrow’s specials.

“Go home,” Ben ordered, appearing beside her with his arms crossed. “Split shift today. Back at six.”

She glanced at the clock. She’d been scheduled for a double, but the unexpected break was welcome. “You sure? I can stay if you need me.”

Ben’s nose twitched in what Nina had come to recognize as his version of amusement. “No, you can’t. You’re going to the Festival committee meeting this afternoon at four. You’re on the committee now.”

“I’m what?” She blinked in surprise.

“On the Festival committee.” Ben turned away to get something out of the refrigerator. “You can leave the mutt here—unless you want to take him to the meeting.”

She stood frozen, dish towel in hand.

“I don’t understand. I’ve only been here a few weeks,” she protested weakly.

“Nothing to understand. Elara nominated you as the food coordinator, and the council approved it.” He straightened, ducking under the hanging pots. “The town knows good people when it finds them. Now get going. Town hall. Four o’clock. Don’t be late.”

Before she could respond, he disappeared into the walk-in freezer, effectively ending the conversation.

Food coordinator for the Halloween festival? The thought was simultaneously thrilling and terrifying. In Haven’s Grace, women—especially unmarried ones—were kept firmly in the background, their contributions anonymous and uncredited.

She quickly untied her apron, hoping she’d have time to shower before the meeting.

She wanted to make a good impression. She hurried down the narrow hallway towards the back door and almost ran into Flora.

Despite her small size, she somehow managed to block the entire passage.

Today, she wore a hot pink tracksuit with “JUICY” emblazoned across the chest in silver sequins.

“I’m sorry, Flora. I didn’t see you come in.”

“Of course you didn’t, dear.” Flora’s black eyes twinkled mischievously. “I have my ways. And one of them is recognizing that glow.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” she said, aiming for nonchalance and missing by a mile.

Flora cackled, the sound both merry and slightly unnerving as she reached up to pat Nina’s cheek with one gnarled green hand. “That’s the glow of a woman who’s being properly tended to.”

Heat rushed to Nina’s face, confirming the accuracy of Flora’s observation. “Well, um…”

“No need to be embarrassed,” Flora said, waving her hand dismissively. “It’s about time Sam got his head out of his inkpot, so to speak. He’s a fine boy. You’ll have strong babies.”

She choked. “I don’t think it works that way. Besides, I’m on birth control.” Her blush deepened as she realized what she’d just admitted.

“Things have a way of happening unexpectedly, especially in a town like this.” Flora winked, but she refused to take the bait.

“I’m sorry, Flora, but I really have to run. I’m supposed to be at a town meeting at four.”

Flora stepped aside, allowing her to pass. “Oh, I know. We’re on the committee together. See you there, dear.”

The town square was bustling with mid-afternoon activity, by the time she’d showered and changed into her one “nice” outfit—a simple green dress with a vintage flair she’d found at Posy’s thrift store, paired with a cardigan to ward off the autumn chill.

She felt slightly self-conscious as she crossed the square, aware of how different her life had become in such a short time.

A few weeks ago, she’d been sleeping in her car, nearly drowning in the river, desperate for any job that would keep her fed. Now, she had a home, steady work, friends—and Sam. The thought of him sent a pleasant warmth through her. She couldn’t wait to see him again.

Lost in these pleasant thoughts, she didn’t notice the small gathering near the gazebo at first. It was the familiar cadence of the speech that caught her attention—the rhythmic, sing-song preaching she’d grown up hearing.

“…and deliver us from the Devil’s creatures that walk among us, tempting the righteous with their unnatural ways…”

She froze mid-step, her blood turning to ice in her veins.

A small group of people in plain, drab clothing—the women in long skirts and head coverings, the men in somber shirts and pants—were gathered by the gazebo.

They were handing out pamphlets to passersby, most of whom shook their heads with bemused expressions before continuing on their way.

But she recognized the pamphlets. Recognized the people.

The Chosen. The people she’d fled two years ago, leaving behind everything she’d ever known.

Panic surged through her. She turned quickly, hoping to retreat before being spotted, but her sudden movement caught the attention of one of the women, and their eyes met across the square. She ducked behind the closest stall, her heart pounding, but she knew it was too late.

She saw me. She knows I’m here.

She hurried along the perimeter of the square, keeping her head down as her thoughts raced frantically.

Why were they here? Fairhaven Falls was over two hundred miles from Haven’s Grace.

The Chosen rarely ventured beyond their own small town except for necessary supplies.

And proselytizing? That was even more unusual.

The community preferred isolation, viewing the outside world as irredeemably corrupt.

But perhaps that had changed. Unless…

Unless they’re looking for me.

The thought sent a fresh wave of terror through her. She quickened her pace, no longer caring about the town hall meeting or making a good impression. All that mattered was getting away, putting distance between herself and the people who had controlled every aspect of her life for so long.

She hurried down the back streets and past the tavern to the river path, her legs shaking so badly that she almost fell down the riverbank. She clutched the closest tree, fighting to control her breathing.

They found me. After all this time, they found me.

Did they know she was in Fairhaven Falls? Where she lived? Where she worked?

What would they do now that they’d found her? Try to force her to return? Hurt her? Hurt her new friends? Her new life felt suddenly precarious, as if the foundation she’d been building might crumble at any moment.

And Sam. Oh God, Sam.

Her heart lurched painfully in her chest. The Chosen’s reaction to discovering one of their own was involved with an Other—especially one as visibly non-human as Sam—would be swift and merciless. They would see it as their duty to “save” her, by any means necessary.

In Haven’s Grace, she’d heard whispered stories of the Chosen using extreme measures against those they deemed ‘corrupted.’ She’d thought it was just hysteria, exaggerated tales designed to reinforce their beliefs and control the congregation, but she’d found out that she was wrong.

Her hands gripped the tree, the rough bark biting into her palms as she fought to calm her racing thoughts. Maybe she was overreacting. The Chosen had never come after her before, why would they start now?

Maybe they weren’t even here for her. Maybe their presence in town was a coincidence, nothing more. She only wished she could believe it.

She forced herself to start walking again, her fists clenching at her sides as she approached her home.

The familiar sight of the small shack, which had become so precious to her, now seemed vulnerable, exposed.

She scanned the river for any sign of Sam, and spotted a faint disturbance in the water near her dock. He was there, waiting for her.

Relief surged through her, followed immediately by a renewed spike of anxiety. She needed to warn him, to explain the danger. But how could she make him understand the threat posed by a handful of humans in plain clothes?

She hurried down to the dock, her heart racing, praying that he would understand—and that they would have time to figure out what to do before her past engulfed them both.

“Sam,” she called urgently, dropping to her knees at the dock’s edge. “Sam, we have a problem.”