Page 1 of Slaying With Sylphs (Haven Ever After #6)
CHAPTER ONE
LOU
“ N ow drop the amethyst in slowly, so it doesn’t hit the bottom of the pot too hard.” Malik’s instructions sound simple, but I know from attempting this potion three times this week, it’s not that easy.
Relaxing my jaw so nervous energy doesn’t filter through the quartz, I stir as I reach down with the amethyst in my fingers. Malik’s steady, huge presence should be a comfort as he hovers by my side, but instead, I worry I’ll fuck up the potion a fourth time in a row.
Three times was not a charm, as it turns out.
Come on, Lou, get it together.
I release the crystal into the pot, continuing to stir the blue mixture carefully as I listen for it to land on the bottom. Instead, it hits with a thunk, my heart sinking just as fast. The edges of the cast iron pot begin to vibrate as the mixture simmers wildly, purple sparks shooting up out of the liquid. One hits me in the face, singeing my left eyebrow as I sigh and step back.
Malik slings a pale muscular arm over my chest, curling his fingers into my skin. His left wing, covered in pale purple feathers, curls around me, shielding me from the sparking pot.
I sigh and cross my arms, infuriated by my fourth failed attempt at finishing his signature sleeping potion.
Glancing up at my new friend and boss, I sigh again. “It shouldn’t be this hard, Malik. At this point, I’m costing you more money than it’s worth for you to have an assistant.”
The big pegasus tsks, pale pink lips curling into a smirk as he looks down at me. “When Richard suggested you become my assistant, I knew it would take time to impart my knowledge to you, Lou. But I also knew it was a task worth doing. You’ll get it. It took me decades to get to where I am.”
I snort. “It helps that you’re a warlock, I’m sure.”
“Of course.” He dips his head in agreement. “And it helps that I put in thousands of hours of practice at the academy when I was younger. And then spent decades honing my skills to get to this point. A sleeping potion sounds simple enough, but making a good one is like creating any work of art, my friend.” His fingers leave my side, his wide wing retracting backward against the white horse half of his body.
“You’ll get it, Lou, and we will practice until you do.” He winks as he nudges me with his elbow. “In the meantime, you get to clean up the mess you made, mineirah.”
Mineirah . The pegasi word translates loosely to “deep friend,” almost like the pixie concept of a soulfriend. I know what Malik means. From the moment Richard, the pack alpha of the shifters, introduced us, I liked Malik. More than that, I respected him.
Malik gets me.
Even now, he stares, luminescent blue eyes sparkling. Something about the way Malik looks at me makes me feel like he’s looking right into my soul. I’m as transparent as a piece of glass in a window frame, and Malik’s got both hands over his brows, peering inside.
His assessing gaze moves back to the pot. “Give it a few minutes to cool, then dump it out back.”
With the other failures, he means. There’s a nice gooey pile of unusable sludge behind Malik’s potions shop, Alkemi.
When I acknowledge his directive, he clip-clops toward the front of the shop and begins to unpack a box of crystals that arrived this morning from another monster haven.
Blowing out a frustrated breath, I uncross my arms and lean against a table covered with crystals and gems of all sorts. Most are familiar to me from my time working in a potions shop back home in upstate New York, but many are specific to the monster world.
I glance at a transparent black crystal at the center of the table. It’s something called pegasite, a crystal that only comes from a haven on the far side of the world where most pegasi originate from. Pegasite grows in the depths of a volcano there. Every century or two, the volcano erupts and spews the beautiful onyx crystal out onto black sand beaches. A small community grew at the edges of the volcano, and when the beach is full of crystals, they harvest them and send them to potion shops all throughout the monster haven system.
My gaze travels from the pegasite to a sprinkling of amethyst and aragonite. The beautiful varied colors never fail to amaze me. It’s easy to get lost in those sparkling, angular depths. I like to imagine that every crystal is its own unique, magical world. One day, if I learn enough about them, maybe a magical portal will open up and pull me inside. It’ll be like Journey to the Center of the Earth , except my real life.
Then I consider how living in a hidden monster town is pretty much the same thing. The tiny haven of Ever is protected by magical wards, ensconced in a gorgeous valley in Massachusetts. No human could ever find it unless specifically called here by the town’s magical homing beacon map.
That’s how I got here, thanks to my nieces and the town’s previous Keeper, the mayor of sorts, if monsters have a mayor.
I twirl my strawberry blonde braid around my finger as I consider my dramatic arrival. It turns out all monsters aren’t nice, and I got firsthand knowledge of that on my way here. Thinking back to the bites I sustained trying to get into Ever, I scratch at the back of one arm, grimacing at how tender yet itchy the skin still is.
As soon as my potion pot is cool to the touch, I unhook it from its spot over the fire and walk-rush to the back door, trying not to let it slosh up over the pot’s thick cast iron sides.
At the back door, I shoulder my way through and set the pot down on a patch of moss. It’s beautiful behind the long row of shops Alkemi is part of. Like a magical monster strip mall, backed by gorgeous, dense forest. Trees as wide as cars soar above my head, blotting out the sky, ferns growing thick and lush at their bases.
I grimace as I glance down at an oily, sticky-looking puddle outside the back door. Sighing, I push the potion pot over, frowning as the ruined potion joins its predecessors, forming an even deeper pool.
Movement at the building’s edge draws my eye. A pointy red hat appears, followed by the tiny face of its owner.
“Messed up again?” His voice is impossibly small, like a mouse, as he jumps around the edge of the building and crosses his arms.
I resist the urge to reach over and splash sludgy potion on him with my shoe. “Yeah, Bellami. As you can see, I messed up again. Thank you.”
The tiny gnome male snorts. “You’re not great at this, Lou.”
I breathe deeply through my nose. “Obviously.” I wave my hand dismissively in his direction. “Don’t you have something to do? Malik told me you’re expanding the gnome village. You should get to that.”
The gnomes are horribly straightforward. Last time I had a bad day, one of Bellami’s brethren asked me if I actually ate shit or just looked like I had.
Case in point. Bellami uncrosses his arms to straighten his hat with a grunt. “There’s potion all over your hands.”
I look down, turning my hands over to see what he’s talking about. After a second, I get it and loose an irritated breath. “Those are freckles, Bellami. They’re permanent. It’s part of my skin.” And I happen to like them, thank you very much.
He gives me a blank look. “Whatever you say. Anyways, I’m not here for that. I came to ask for your help. Your niece, Wren, told me you were good with organizing. I’m thinking you should try helping us for a while since your career in potion-making looks like it’s gonna be short.”
“Jesus, Bellami,” I snap. “I’ve been at this for all of two weeks.”
“Precisely,” he says with a snort. “If you were gonna get it, you would have. My people could use help from someone—” his eyes rove over my much taller figure, “—broader.”
Damn. How rude can this diminutive male be in a two-minute encounter?
“What kind of help?” I hedge.
He glances at the black puddle where I’ve been dumping my potion. “Hauling plants and small trees. Moving rocks. Lifting mushrooms. You know. Gnome village stuff.”
Lifting mushrooms.
It’s on the tip of my tongue to deny him help simply because the gnomes are so…bossy. But then I consider that I, too, am very bossy. It takes a bitch to know a bitch. That being said, if I can do something to help, I will.
“Okay.”
Bellami gives me a clipped nod. “Good, just show up whenever you have free time, and we’ll put you to work.”
Before I can answer, he turns on a heel and stalks back around the side of the building, his tiny legs moving at super speed. The gnomes are always so purposeful, so quick to go wherever they’re going. Damn, the one time they offered to help me learn how to throw an ax at Bad Axe, a half dozen of them crawled all over me shouting directions. They don’t do anything in a relaxed way.
I wonder if they’re into potions like most of the other monster residents of Shifter Hollow, outside of downtown Ever. Now that I think about it, I haven’t ever seen them in the store during my shifts. Some calming tea is what they need. Or a chill pill.
“Everything okay?” Malik’s soothing voice echoes from inside the doorway to my right.
I turn and force a smile. “Bellami was just here commenting on the state of my potion, and then had the gall to ask me for help after insulting me.”
Malik snorts, stamping one of his horsey forelegs as he crosses his human arms. “You know what you need, Lou? Another kind of potion.” His expression goes a little devious, elegant pale nostrils flaring.
“Let me guess. Milkshake?”
He plants both hands on his hips with a huge grin. “Milkshake. Get on, friend.”
It’s always an odd feeling for me to climb onto Malik’s broad back. It feels personal, like something a mate might do, and I am most certainly not his. In fact, I’m pretty sure he’s got the hots for Alba, the centaur who owns the Galloping Green Bean diner up on Main Street. So, when he takes me for milkshakes, it’s an excuse to visit her at work.
Even so, I smile as he bends his left foreleg, curling his fetlock so I can use his hoof as a step. I grab a thin fabric handle sewn at the bottom of the back of his vest, using the leverage to haul myself onto his broad back, careful not to kick his wings.
“Settled, Lou?” He glances over his top half’s shoulder as I tuck my feet between his sides and his beautiful big wings.
“Don’t know about settled,” I mutter, “but I’m on.”
Malik turns and clops carefully out his back door, his white wings tucked tightly over my legs. Like always, I have to resist the urge to stroke the beautifully detailed feathers. Up close, they’re iridescent, each one bursting with tiny rainbows of color.
He steps into the small clearing behind Alkemi and spreads his wings wide. He’s stopped telling me to hold on at this point because he’s flown me so many times. Flying seems to be Malik’s answer to everything wrong in the world. Stomach issues? Go for a flight. Feeling down in the dumps? Soaring through the treetops will fix it.
And honestly, he’s sorta right. I always feel better after flying with my friend slash boss. It’s a different perspective on the tiny monster haven that’s my new home.
His incredible muscles bunch underneath my thighs, and then he takes off into the sky, soaring between two enormous trees. I press into his muscular back, having learned the first time we flew that he is utterly unconcerned about being whipped in the face with branches. And he forgets that I am highly concerned about it.
When wind drags my hair behind me, I look around. We’re above the treetops, Malik’s wings beating the sky in steady, birdlike movements. I never took much time to stare at bird wings before I started riding Malik, but his are so large, it’s easier to see the full range of motion.
First they curl up into an inverted U, then they press forward straight ahead, and finally they swoop down and back up again into a U. Flight is such a wild and weird thing, but I often get lost in the movement of his wings when we fly.
Down below, the dense forest surrounding Shifter Hollow moves lazily by. Malik swoops low over the lake. From this altitude, the mermaids’ city below the surface is partially visible despite being set deep along the lake’s bottom.
We leave it behind as tiny gusts of wind dance over my cheeks and hair, tangling it into a knot that’s always a bitch to get out. I close my eyes and let my head fall back, loving how the wind kisses my skin, its temperature cool in comparison to the warmth of the sunrays that filter through Ever’s bubble-shaped protective ward.
The flight is over too soon, Malik descending gently out of the sky to land in the middle of Sycamore Street. His feet touch down, and he folds his wings back, as cautious as ever not to jostle me. I stay seated on his back for a moment, sad as the wisps of wind that always follow me disappear.
Malik shifts from one foot to the other, swishing his tail from side to side. I pop my eyes open to see him staring over his shoulder at me. “Everything alright, Lou? We’re here.”
“Yeah, I know,” I murmur. “I was enjoying the perfect sunny weather.”
He snorts. “Seventy-eight percent of havens pick a weather pattern and stick to it year round. That’s why it’s always the same here within Ever’s wards. But just under twenty percent of havens opt to follow the weather patterns of wherever they’re located. It’s fascinating to me. Can you imagine living in a haven where it was sunny one day and a blizzard the next?”
I match his disbelieving sound. “Uh, yeah. I lived in New York state when I was in the human world. I can absolutely believe that. The sun is what’s so nice of a change though. Normally in winter in New York, the skies are gray for a few months straight.”
“I feel so bad for humans,” Malik says on a sigh. “Not being able to control the weather, not having magic.” He crosses his arms and sighs again loudly.
“Thank gods we had potions and crystals though,” I remind him. “You’d love the little shop I worked in before I came here to be with my nieces.”
I slide off his back, brushing horse hair off my jeans. When I look up at my boss, he’s staring at an adorable red, white and turquoise retro-style diner in front of us. A flashing neon sign on a tall pole tells us it’s the Galloping Green Bean.
I elbow Malik in the side. “Did you see Alba through the window?”
He snorts like a horse and stomps a foreleg, his tail lashing against his sides. “Not yet. Perhaps she’s not working today, or her nephew, Taylor, is covering for her.”
“Well,” I say with a laugh, “let’s go see, friend.”
T en minutes later, we’re seated in a colorful booth on the far back wall of the Galloping Green Bean. I’m on a red bench seat, and Malik rests opposite me on one of the long, curved centaur benches they use in lieu of chairs. It seems like it should be awkward watching someone with four legs and two arms “sit,” but he makes it look graceful. If I glanced quickly, it would seem like a hot human guy was sitting across from me.
He sips at his water, glancing around surreptitiously, blue eyes roving the room. I know he requested this booth so he could look for Alba without having to glance behind him.
“See her yet?” I whisper over my menu.
He shakes his head, disappointment obvious on his handsome, angular features. Honestly, Alba’s missing out if she doesn’t take him up on it when he finally asks her out. He’s like Legolas and a centaur smashed together, with better style. The fitted vest he wears accentuates his broad shoulders and thick, muscular chest.
“She’s probably not here,” he murmurs. “I could have asked Taylor. I saw him this morning. Gosh, I’m an idiot.”
Reaching across the table, I place my hand on top of his. “Malik, just make the move. The worst that can happen is she says no.”
He visibly pales, reaching up to wipe a bead of sweat off his brow.
“Malik!” a brash female voice echoes off the shiny metal roof.
His worried expression falls, a broad smile replacing it as he rises from the bench.
I turn as Alba trots to our table, stopping next to our booth with a scratch pad in one hand and a purple pen in the other. She’s usually gruff and sarcastic—love that—but she beams at Malik. Only for Malik, I’ve noticed.
Gods, they’re so fucking cute.
He shifts on the bench and runs a hand through his hair, his fingers getting stuck in his manbun. Blushing, he rolls his shoulders and crosses his arms over his chest. “Alba, how are you?”
“Busy,” she says with a smile. “But glad you’re here. Do you need a few minutes with the menu?”
I resist the urge to kick his back leg under the table. We’ve talked so many times about him asking her out. The attraction is obvious. I try not to be the third wheel as he and Alba make small talk.
Movement outside the wall of front windows catches my eye. The shifter pack alpha, Richard, walks past with his Second, Connall. Time slows as I watch how Connall’s jean shirt pulls tight over his impossibly broad barrel chest. He runs a hand through auburn waves, green eyes flashing as he responds to something Richard says.
My heart rate kicks up when he reaches for the door to the diner and pulls it open. Both males disappear from view, blocked by the building, and then reappear inside the door. Shocking green eyes flash to me before a half smile tips Connall’s sensual lips upward.
I resist the urge to fan myself. I’ve always found him insanely attractive. It’s more than that, though. He’s such a comfortable, grounded presence. He should be, I guess; he’s the pack’s version of a therapist. I’m so much the opposite—I crave steadiness like he has. What would it be like to date someone who’s such a rock?
But then the door opens again, and a blue-skinned elemental sylph comes through, an absolutely wicked grin on his face. Electric blue lightning streaks jaggedly over his pale skin. He claps Connall on the back as I consider the rollercoaster of my thoughts.
Richard, the shifter alpha, sits at a table. Like clockwork, the sylph and Connall both look over at me.
And there’s the crux of my problem. Because Dirk has made his interest in me known from the day we met. But when I look at the two of them together, I find myself just as drawn to Connall. Seeing them looking at me like they both want me tears me up inside. How can I say yes to either of them? How could I ever say no?
It’s not like I can have them both.