Page 25 of Shift of Heart (Shifter Lords #1)

Chapter

Twenty

A sh, Moira, and Tess were already at the shop when I arrived the next morning.

I opened my office to see Ash sprawled on the couch, his nose in the pages of his newest fantasy obsession.

Moira was at my drawing desk, a pot of tea and all the fixings scattered around her, while Tess was conversing with one of the pothos.

The banshee liked talking to my plants, and I didn’t have the heart to stop her, though I made a mental note to move the pothos closer to the window and give it an extra boost before I left for the day. Tess tended to depress the poor things.

“Why’s everyone here so early?” I asked as I tossed my purse onto the desk.

Ash lowered his book. “I take it you didn’t check the email.”

I was too busy plotting revenge against everyone’s favorite wolf. “No. I was busy repotting a plant, and I went to bed early.”

Moira fixed me a cup of tea and passed it over. “We’ve been invited to the Night Market.”

I almost dropped my tea. “What?”

“You heard me.” Moira smirked. “The notice came in last night.”

“I—I didn’t even apply this time.” The Night Market came to Joy Springs twice a month, and I’d spent the last four years trying to get in, only to be rejected every single time. Last month, I decided to stop trying. A girl could only take so much rejection before it felt personal.

“We know,” Ash said. “So, we did the application for you.”

Moira snapped up a sheet of paper and waved it at me. “Three days from now, you have one of the front spots at the market, renewable without an additional application for the next twelve months.”

I gave her a dubious stare. “We have a front spot for the next twelve months?” That seemed far-fetched. Or...like someone had pulled some strings.

“Sonofabitch,” I growled. “Caelan.”

Moira grinned. “Seems that way, but we shouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth. You’ve been trying to get into that market for years now. It’s great for us, great for the store?—”

“And one more way Caelan owns us,” I finished.

Ash made a humming noise. “He does seem way too interested in you, Evie.”

Tess moaned and floated over. “I think I should talk to Caelan’s ghosts.”

Three pairs of eyes swung her way. It took me a moment to unscramble my brain so I could formulate a response. “I’m sorry. You just said Caelan’s ghosts? Does he have ghosts?” Sometimes Tess said the weirdest shit and expected us to react like everything about it was normal.

Tess nodded. “Everyone has ghosts.”

Moira choked on her tea.

Ash sighed. “Tess.”

She moaned. “Am I being weird again? I’m sorry. I always assume people know things only to find out they don’t.”

I pinched the space between my brows. “Let’s get back to the ghost comment. What do you mean, everyone has them?”

“Spirits linger close to those they love. When someone passes over, sometimes their ghosts don’t travel on like they’re supposed to. Stronger bonds make it harder for spirits to pass on to their afterlives.”

“Shouldn’t we be able to see them?” Moira asked.

“None of us have any,” Tess pronounced. “I made sure of it.”

None of us knew how to respond to that ominous announcement, so I chose to ignore it. “Can you get close enough to Caelan without him sensing you?”

Tess nodded. “Easy peasy. Shifters ignore spirit traffic because there’s so much around. One more won’t bother him.”

I shook my head. “Too dangerous. I’m new and shiny. That’s why he’s interested.”

Moira’s lips quirked. “And your solution is to not be so interesting?”

I shot her a dark look. “Time is the solution. We ignore him, and eventually he’ll find something or someone else to obsess over.”

Ash set his book down. “I don’t think our Evie understands how obsession works.”

“If you’re thinking about turning the market invite down, it’s a terrible idea.” Moira poured herself another cup of tea. “Caelan might have secured the invite, but he doesn’t get any of the extra money you’ll pull in.”

“Who knows?” I muttered. “Maybe he takes kickbacks from all the vendors.”

“Like a wolf mafia?” Ash drawled.

“I’ve seen stranger things.”

The market would be great for our shop. Practitioners visited from all over the state, and few people could pass up fresh flowers when they spotted them.

Since it was a magical market, I could enchant the bouquets I sold, and people could request specific charms. This might lead to more business and more connections in the magical community.

As much as I hated that Caelan pulled some strings, Moira was right. Saying no out of stubbornness would be foolish.

“Fine,” I sighed. “We’ll do the market.”

At my words, Moira and Ash hooted. “Finally!”

“But,” I interrupted their celebrating, “all of you have to work late until market night.”

“We planned on it,” Moira said.

Around lunch time, another delivery truck pulled up, this one labeled with the local luxury furniture maker’s mark. Two burly men hopped out, one with a clipboard, and headed toward the door.

“Must be the replacement table,” Ash said. “Want me to intercept?”

I’d spent most of the morning working in the back enchanting bouquets and had only come out to get another cup of coffee. “I’ll take care of it. The table has to be made in a specific way, so I’ll send it back if I need to.”

Ash nodded. “You should know the furniture maker is a dryad. Doubtful you’ll need to send anything back. He’s well-versed in Floromancy.”

Many years ago, I commissioned a well-known Amish furniture maker to create a massive wooden table for me.

The wood had to be untreated and unstained, sealed with only natural materials like oil and beeswax.

I refused to work on any projects involving flowers or plants on a chemically treated workspace.

The craftsman had asked no questions about the reasons why and seemed to appreciate the parameters.

He charged me a fair price and delivered a stunning table two months later.

The legs and supports were made of stainless steel, but the main workspace was a large piece of mahogany, polished to a high shine and treated with beeswax and olive oil.

I cherished the table and brought it with me when I moved. When Caelan destroyed it, a little piece of my past had died with me. The maker was only in Washington for a brief time before he moved out to be with his family in the Midwest. Tracking him down might prove difficult.

“I really loved the table I had.”

Ash gave me a sad smile. “I know you did, but I think you should give this one a chance. I know his work. You might be surprised.”

I nodded and followed him to the door. “I hope it’s not too expensive.”

Ash snorted. “Oh, it will be. This guy has a waiting list a year long. He must have set everything aside to work on this project.”

Ash didn’t see my wince. I could see my bank balance going up in flames.

The men entered, their eyes lighting on me as soon as they walked in. “Miss Quinn,” the taller one asked. “We have a delivery for you.” He handed the clipboard over for my signature.

“Do you have a bill?”

They exchanged a glance. “We do not.”

“No bill, no signature,” I said sweetly.

“Ma’am, we’re under strict orders to deliver this to you today.”

“And I need a bill.” I smiled. “It’s easy enough. Just send me the invoice the maker sent the Shifter Lord. Once I have it, you’re more than welcome to come in and drop off the table.”

We stood there in a polite stalemate until the second one nudged the first. “We have a tight schedule today, Rick. Just send it to her.”

I smiled at the guy who was not Rick.

But Rick shook his head. “We were told not to tell her the price.”

Not Rick scoffed. “Would you rather stand here and argue about this and be late to every one of our next appointments, or just forward her the email?”

“Dan!” Rick hissed. “We aren’t supposed to send it.”

“I won’t tell if you won’t tell,” I said sweetly.

Dan lifted his eyebrows. “See. The lady won’t tell. Now send it and let’s get the hell out of here.”

I laughed. “I like your style, Dan.”

“If he asks, this is on you,” Rick muttered as he took his cell phone out and scrolled. A moment later, my phone dinged. I opened my email to see a message from Rick Colby. Once I opened it to see there was indeed an invoice attached, I gestured for them to come on in.

Dan gave me a friendly wink and brushed past Rick. “Where do you want it?”

I showed them the spot where my old table used to sit. “Here, but I’ll need to inspect the table before you leave.”

Rick snorted.

Annoyed, I stopped and put my hands on my hips. “If you don’t stop being an ass, Rick, I’m going to kick you out of my shop and give all the credit to Dan.”

Rick’s eyes widened, and I felt a little guilty about my subtle threat. But damn, I hated men like Rick, who couldn’t be bothered with any kind of change or inconvenience, no matter how tiny.

Dan slapped Rick on the back hard enough to make him wince. “Let’s get this inside for the lady, shall we?”

Rick winced and nodded. Both men disappeared outside and got to work.

Ash’s eyebrows lifted when our eyes met. “Subtle,” he drawled.

Moira cackled from across the room. “Let’s see what Rick does if he has to haul that table right back out.”

The odds were high that’s exactly what would happen, but I’d give this craftsman dryad a chance.

Rick and Dan hauled a massive, wrapped piece of wood over the sidewalk. I held open the door for them, trying to make out any features of the table, but it was wrapped too thoroughly. They headed back out for the legs while I got busy inspecting the table.

Dan shooed me out of the way when he got back inside. “I have the right tools. Allow me.”

I stepped away and let the man do his work. A few minutes later, a stunning piece of mahogany with a faint tinge of magic sat tipped on its edge against the wall.

Dan handed me an envelope. “From the maker. He asked for you to be the only one who opened this note.”

Curious, I loosened the wax seal and pulled out a piece of sandalwood scented parchment.

Miss Quinn,

I must confess I was quite surprised when I received a request to recreate your work table.

The Shifter Lord brought me a large piece of the top and sketched out how the original looked.

Please send my compliments to the original craftsman who created it.

I recognize quality work when I see it, though I could also tell the creator possessed no magic.

I hope you won’t mind, but I took some liberties with this new creation.

I know you are a Floromancer, and from Caelan’s words, one of quite impressive power.

The magic ingrained in this table is subtle.

First, you will rarely need to condition and oil this table, once a year at most. Second, any cut flowers you store on top or are working on will no longer require a preservation spell while you work.

It is the least I can do for someone who took in my nephew and showed him such kindness.

If you ever have need of my services again, please reach out to me directly.

The note was signed Septimus , and a phone number was written in painstaking print below the signature.

I tucked the note into the envelope and turned to the dryad. “Nephew?”

Ash had the grace to look abashed. “I didn’t realize he’d send a note.”

Dan and Rick handled the table carefully, gently screwing in the base and legs. When it was finished, and they’d turned it right side up, a gasp escaped me.

This was a true piece of art. Shaped almost identical to the original, this one was also made of mahogany, polished and smooth to the touch.

The legs were different from the original, hand-turned, and allowing the natural whorls in the wood to shine.

But what was so different was the faint hum of magic vibrating from the top.

Moira and Tess came over.

“Stunning,” the vampire murmured.

“It’s a shame such a beautiful tree had to die for you,” Tess said, which was high praise indeed from the banshee.

“My uncle does not cut down trees for his work,” Ash said. “Every tree he uses has fallen naturally on his land. Mahogany trees don’t grow here, so he most likely sourced it from another dryad in another territory. No dryad kills trees for their own use.”

Tess turned to look at him, not saying anything for a long moment. “Everything dies, Ash. Even trees.” She paused.

Ash looked crestfallen.

“Though I will say it is nice to know they’d met their natural end before being made into such a beautiful creation.” Tess gave Ash a hesitant smile and walked back to the register area.

The dryad’s brow furrowed before a wide smile tilted his lips up.

I ducked my head and turned away. Moira winked and went back over to the coffee area.

Banshee/dryad romance. Weird, a little depressing, but also very cute.

Dan cleared his throat. “Would you like to take a final look before you sign off?”

I nodded, even though I had no uncertainty about using the table in my practice. Running my fingers over the wood, the dryad’s power hummed against my skin, friendly and welcoming. I’d like to meet Septimus one day, if only to see Ash around another family member.

The wood responded to my touch, and I almost jerked my fingers away. It was alive, but not. My first table was inert, only a table. This one was a living piece of art.

I signed my name and handed the clipboard back to Dan. “Thank you. Everything looks great.”

Dan nodded and pulled Rick away. “We’ll get out of your hair then. Have a nice day, ma’am.”

When they were gone, everyone gathered around the table.

“I’m not sure I should look at that invoice,” I said in a hushed tone.

Moira chuckled. “Yeah. Your bank account is in danger.”

I had a plan to return Caelan’s money, but it would take a few days to get everything ready. The tuft of his fur had changed things. He’d get his money and a little payback in return.

And if he messed up my table again, I might have to let him see the beast living under my skin.