Page 20 of Shift of Morals (Shifter Lords #2)

Chapter

Twelve

A t dawn the next morning, the shop doors blew open, the bells jangling a discordant tune, and a small, fearsome woman walked in, her strawberry-colored hair floating away from her shoulders even though the wind outside was still.

Her eyes were a freakish ultramarine blue color, her gaze sharp and intelligent. Hazel had an odd way of being able to read everyone in the room and their emotions to boot. She wasn’t a Seer that I could tell, but I felt positive Hazel got flashes of the future sometimes.

She was way too observant not to.

Hazel carried a battered leather duffel that crackled with power. She tossed it down, blew her hair out of her face, and let her gaze sweep the shop before she turned, her sharp gaze landing on me.

“Tea,” she demanded in her smoky, accented voice. “Hot, black, and fast.”

Moira scrambled to get it for her. The vampire was scared of few things, but Hazel both fascinated and scared the shit out of her. She also held quite a lot of respect for the witch as Moira never would have met me if Hazel had left me to die in that Scottish field of thistles.

The witch studied me for a long moment, then nodded as if she’d convinced herself of something.

She held her arms open, and I went to her as if hypnotized.

Hazel wasn’t the most demonstrative witch, but when she asked for a hug, you gave it to her, because usually Hazel wasn’t the one who needed it.

She crushed me to her small frame, the hug smelling of a dozen different herbs and magic. Hazel stroked a firm hand down my hair and patted me on the back. “Your magic smells different, my dear. Is your tattoo acting up?”

I nodded, my face buried in her shoulder.

“Well then,” she said decisively. “I’ll get to work on that soon, then.”

She stepped away just as Moira held her teacup out. Hazel took it with a thankful grunt and settled herself on the couch.

“Cream or sugar?” the vampire asked.

“Both, please.”

As Hazel fixed her tea, Ash and Tess came out, the dryad giving me a curious glance.

“Hazel, this is Ash and Tess, friends of mine. They also work at the shop.”

Hazel’s startling eyes narrowed. “We used to have many dryads back home. They’ve all retreated to the deeper forested areas.”

Ash smiled. “I have some family in Scotland, though I haven’t seen them in years.”

“If you ever decide to visit, my home is open to you.” Before Ash could respond, Hazel’s attention was on Tess. “Dangerous to have a banshee as a friend with your mother coming around, Evie.”

Tess floated closer. “I sense the queen before she appears.”

Hazel’s lips quirked. “Allowing you to haul ass?”

Tess let out a little squeaky moan in agreement.

“And you,” Hazel said, turning her attention to Moira, “sucking on many veins these days?”

Moira rolled her eyes. While she had a healthy fear of Hazel, she wasn’t afraid to talk back. “I prefer it straight from the tap these days.”

Hazel snorted. “Liar. I can smell O negative in that mug of yours.”

Moira’s brow furrowed as she looked down at her tea. “Seriously?”

Hazel tapped the side of her nose. “A hereditary witch has an excellent sense of smell. Though your donor was a touch anemic, my dear. Don’t be surprised if you’re hungry again in only a couple of hours.”

Moira swore. “Dammit. I knew there was something up with this batch! I’m going to ask for a refund.”

I stared at the vampire. “You couldn’t tell?”

“That she was anemic?” Moira scoffed. “I’m not a doctor, Evie.”

Her tone was exasperated, and it made me laugh. “Sorry. I wrongly assumed vamps could tell that sort of thing like a built-in survival instinct.”

“Maybe in the past, but I’ve always taken bottled blood. Part of the way I was raised.”

Hazel’s eyes narrowed, but Moira ducked her head and turned away. Hmm. Maybe Moira hadn’t always been a well-behaved vamp.

No judgment here. I hadn’t been the best-behaved Floromancer lately, either.

“Let me finish this tea, and we’ll take a look at that bouquet.”

We chatted about her trip and the weather, all inane things, as Hazel sipped her tea.

She’d always been a small thing, but power didn’t always come in large packages.

I didn’t know much about witches because I’d never had many run-ins with them.

Most wanted to be left alone, and they lived far from civilization.

That wasn’t always true, but Hazel had happened upon me because she was out foraging and had sensed a disturbance. Pure luck.

Or so she said.

When she finally set her teacup down and rose, I led her to the walk-in. Hazel grimaced and moved her fingers in an odd pattern. A moment later, a warm, comforting spell had settled over our shoulders.

“Something dark lives in that fridge,” Hazel murmured. “Better safe than sorry.”

Ash and the others took a few steps back. I opened the fridge and held the door open for Hazel.

The small witch stepped inside and let out a litany of curse words that made me blush.

Ash chuckled under his breath.

Hazel moved closer, reaching out a finger to touch the pouch. She shook her head. “That thing is dangerous. Its magic is familiar to me, but I can’t place it. What I do know is there’s some kind of binding on it as well as concealment magic.”

The preservation spell holding the bouquet together flickered and died.

“Shit,” I muttered. “There won’t be much left if the preservation keeps failing.”

“Let me try something,” Hazel said. A faint emerald glow came from her fingertips as her magic rose, the scent of lavender and sage rising in the walk-in.

The bouquet thumped in its bag, retreating from Hazel’s magic.

A shocked gasp escaped me. “It moved!”

“It doesn’t like my magic,” Hazel said, a curious look on her face. “Put one more preservation spell on it, if you don’t mind. That will give me time to figure this one out.”

I did as she asked, the spell taking only moments. Hazel nodded with approval. “Your Floromancy has grown. You’ve practiced quite a lot.”

“Every day,” I said. “It’s easy enough to do with the shop and the greenhouse at home.”

“Good. It will keep the Chimera magic at bay.”

I wasn’t so sure about that these days. The beast lay just under my skin, waiting for a moment of weakness.

We left the bouquet in the fridge and settled at the front once more. The shop would open in half an hour, but until then, we had time to figure things out.

“Tell me everything you remember about that thing. Leave nothing out,” Hazel demanded.

Moira started at the beginning. Hazel listened intently, never interrupting even when I could tell she had a question. When she finished, Hazel nodded.

“When was it dropped off?”

Moira rattled off the date.

Hazel’s eyes widened a hair. “By whom?”

“Someone who said she was the bride’s mother, though we doubt that now.”

“Are you aware of the laws governing supernatural weddings?” Hazel asked.

“Err. Should we be?” I never thought to ask about laws, assuming supernatural weddings were the same as humans, except with a much scarier guest list.

Hazel’s look made me want to curl into the fetal position. “Any food or drink must be destroyed completely. Fire is the best way. Any flowers must be held in stasis for at least three weeks after the wedding, to allow any residual energies from the wedding party to fade.”

I blinked. “Moira, see if you can get a copy of those laws from…”

I looked at Hazel, who gave a put-upon sigh. “The Shifter Lord’s office usually has a copy.”

Moira wiggled her eyebrows. “Sure you don’t want to be the one to make that call?”

I shot her a dark look.

Hazel didn’t miss the exchange. “You messing around with the local Lord, Evie? That doesn’t sound like you.”

“Because it isn’t,” I muttered. “He hired me to do his wedding flowers.”

Hazel’s penetrating stare made me squirm. “Did you try to say no?”

“No,” Moira said, just as I said, “yes.”

“Et tu, Brute?” I whispered.

Ash snickered.

“I couldn’t refuse him,” I grumbled. “He’d make my life difficult if I tried.”

“Why would he do that?” Hazel asked, her sharp eyes missing nothing.

“You’ve missed quite a lot of shenanigans between our favorite Floromancer and the local Lord,” Moira said, grinning at me when I turned to mouth, “shut up” to her.

Hazel grunted. “We’ll address those shenanigans later.

The priority remains that cursed bundle in your fridge.

But…” her voice trailed off as she watched me with those hawk eyes, “it is the height of foolishness to get close to someone who has the potential to destroy your life so thoroughly. Chimeras are put to death on sight for a reason, Evie.”

I swallowed hard. “I know.”

Hazel was right. I was profoundly dumb for acting like Caelan was anything more than a deadly foe. Even if he made me feel special. The Lord had no idea who I truly was, so everything between us was built on a lie.

Trusting anyone except the people in this room could be a deadly mistake. Caelan already knew too much about me.

I thought about running, something I used to think about far more before I’d learned to control the dangerous flares of magic building inside me.

Somehow, I didn’t think I could ever run far enough that Caelan wouldn’t find me. The thought both lifted and sobered me.

Geez. I was cooked, wasn’t I?

Later that evening, I was working out my frustrations in the greenhouse when I noticed the new tray of thyme seedlings were struggling. Concerned, I pulled the tray closer, sending a tendril of tourmaline-colored magic out.

Several withered under my power. I gasped and extinguished my magic, grief welling inside me at the unnecessary death. Shaking the power from my fingers, I plucked the ruined seedlings from the tray and tossed them into the compost pile, whispering an apology as they disappeared into the darkness.

When I stepped outside sometime later, a voice whispered through the wind, Finn’s voice.

“You’ll come to me soon, Evie.”

Unsettled, I hurried inside the house, double-checking all the locks and windows, knowing I’d never be safe if Finn really wanted to bring me to him.

Sleep was a long time coming that evening.