Dan shook his head, loading up another forkful of mince and potatoes. "Why don't you send it to me?" he said. "I'll have a look." He had absolutely no interest in buying a five-bedroom luxury mountain retreat, but sometimes it was better not to argue with Auntie Tess.
"I'll do that now," Tessa said, mollified. "I've sent you a care package, by the way. Just a few bits and pieces."
"I don't need–" Dan started, but he stopped himself. "Thank you," he finished.
It was useless to argue about the care packages too. 'A few bits and pieces' would turn out to be some trendy company's entire organic skincare line, more custom-made shirts than Dan had clothes hangers for, and a set of expensive kitchen knives that he'd never use. Except maybe to open the box of the next care package. He didn't need any of the things Auntie Tess insisted on sending him, although now that he was on the other side of thirty, he had begun to use the moisturising sunscreen that she insisted was a necessity. But he knew it made her happy to give them to him and he wasn't enough of an asshole to deny her that pleasure.
"You really do need to take care of yourself, Dan," Tessa said again, concern evident in her voice. "Are you seeing anyone? You know, I met a lovely girl at Reformer Pilates the other day. Very pretty, and she's single—"
"Please don't," Dan said, screwing up his face. "You know I'm not interested in meeting anyone. Please don't give my number to any more lovely girls you meet at the gym."
"Oh Dan, it's been years since . . ." Tessa paused. "Since Lily. You can't stay single forever. You can't keep blaming yourself for what happened with her."
The mention of Lily's name was still enough to cause a visceral reaction; a hot, painful surge of guilt, shame, and regret in his gut. Dan swallowed hard, almost losing his appetite. Almost.
"I really don't want to talk about it," he said shortly. "Please, Auntie Tess." There was a faintly plaintive note in his voice that embarrassed him. But he couldn't stand that particular topic of conversation.
Tessa sighed. "Okay, Dan. Suit yourself," she said. "But I worry about you. All alone, up in that hovel—"
"It's a cabin," Dan corrected, without much energy.
Tessa, wisely, decided to drop it. "So, when are you coming to see me? How about lunch? Last Sunday of the month? You can't pretend to be busy, I know you're not."
"I'm not busy," Dan said. "Never too busy for you, Auntie Tess." Auntie Tess might be pushy, she might disapprove of his choice of home and skincare, but Dan knew she loved him. Truly loved him. And he knew that she was the only person in the world who did. His parents weren't terrible people. They had just never been very interested in being parents, preferring to spend their time jet-setting off to exotic destinations where a small boy would have been a burden. Auntie Tess had always been more of a parent to him than they had ever been.
"You're a good boy, Dan," she said approvingly. "I'll put it in the diary, then.
"I'll see you soon," he said. "Um, I'd better go. Need to get ready for work."
"Just try to make time for fun," Tessa cut in.
"Bye, Auntie Tess," Dan said and ended the call.
He stood up, stretching his long limbs and knotted muscles. He'd need to shift tonight, he thought. Dan could feel that prickle in his skin, the jaguar demanding to be set free. But not now. Now, he had a job to do.
✽✽✽
Dan pulled in behind the Mountain Glen Allied Health Centre. It was an old stone building, housing everything from physiotherapists to psychologists, like himself. He just happened to be an exceptionally specialised psychologist. Dan served the greater Sydney area's paranormal community, helping them with their personal problems. Witch with an overbearing mother? Call Dan. Vampire with anxiety? Call Dan. Demon with delusions? Dan was the man, though he hadn't actually ever met a demon.
Slamming the door of his pick-up truck (not the kind of car a clinical psychologist ought to drive - if you asked Auntie Tess), Dan made for the front door. He passionately hoped that he wouldn't have to make small talk with anyone on the way to his office at the end of the corridor on the second floor.
No such luck.
Dan ducked his head, looking down at his own brogue-clad feet to avoid eye contact with any passing acquaintances. It worked well, generally speaking. But not this time. This time, he bumped into someone he'd rather avoid.
"Oh, hello Dan," Sally said, looking delighted to see him. "Don't you look well! Been working out a lot?" Her gaze travelled over his body in a distinctly non-professional manner, and Dan knew she was looking at the way his biceps filled out the sleeves of the expensive pale blue shirt than Auntie Tess had given him.
"Not much," Dan grunted, trying to sidestep her. Sally was an entirely too friendly physiotherapist. He tried his very best to avoid her, particularly after she had offered him a complimentary assessment of his physical form.
"Did you know that a new psychologist is starting soon on your floor? Andy told me!" Sally said, her eyes lighting up with enthusiasm.
"Er, right," Dan said, wondering why he was expected to be even vaguely interested in this information. There was a small group psychology practice on the same floor as his office, but all they shared was a kitchenette, and Dan liked to keep it that way.
"Andy said she's only just registered. Coming up from Sydney, I think. Or was it Melbourne?" Sally wondered, as though it mattered. A city girl, Dan thought. Just what the community of Mountain Glen didn't need more of. There were already far too many transplants from the big cities moving into his quiet small town.
"Well, I guess I'll meet her soon," Dan said, trying again to sidestep Sally. "I, er, need to get on. Got to prepare for a client."
"Busy-busy," Sally sing-songed after him. "Got to make time for fun, Dan!" she let out a laugh, and Dan grimaced as he made his way up the stairs.
✽✽✽
Safely in the sanctuary of his office, a closed door between him and any further advances from Sally, Dan checked his watch. Ten minutes to three. Easton would be here soon. He was never late and faithfully followed Dan's request to arrive a couple of minutes before the start of their appointment. Fae always did take everything so literally.
He set up a notepad and pen, opened the thick blackout blinds covering the window to let in as much natural light as possible, checked that none of the potted houseplants looked sickly, and waited.
At two minutes to three, a knock came on the door. Just as Dan had known it would.
He opened it, putting on his best professional, reassuring smile. "Hello, Easton," he said. "Why don't you come in and take a seat."
Easton looked at him gravely. "There are many reasons why I might not come in, Daniel Sommers," he said. Dan breathed an internal sigh. Fae were among his most challenging clients. They didn't lie, but they sure as hell evaded answering even the most benign of questions.
"Of course," Dan said evenly. "But would you like to come inside and make yourself comfortable?"
"Perhaps," Easton smiled faintly. He slipped past Dan and sat cross-legged in the middle of the sofa in the direct path of the afternoon sun.
Easton was almost as tall as Dan himself, but far more delicately built. As usual, he was dressed all in green, and Dan would have bet good money that everything he wore was made from hemp. Easton's silvery blonde hair was tied up in a bun on top of his head in a look that had become inexplicably popular with human men in recent years. His skin glowed almost golden, and his fine features were arranged into a carefully neutral expression. His bright green eyes, however, were fixed on the wall clock above Dan's desk, watching and waiting.
Dan sat in the armchair opposite Easton, his notepad on his lap, and waited too. He knew better than to say a word before Easton deemed it appropriate. He polished his glasses on his shirt to pass the time.
When the minute hand of the clock reached exactly twelve, Easton's eyes flicked to Dan himself.
"Now," Easton said. "We may begin."
Dan smiled slightly. "How have things been, Eas
ton?"
"Many things have been," Easton replied, steepling his long fingers. He paused. "But I suppose you refer to the subject of our last meeting."
Dan repressed a sigh. It had taken him some time and considerable background research to be able to build a working relationship with Easton. But he didn't resent the effort. As far as he knew, he was the only registered clinical psychologist aware of the existence of the various non-human beings that inhabited the greater Sydney and Blue Mountains area. And he was undoubtedly the only one qualified to help them.
"Do you want to continue discussing your family?" Dan asked, keeping the question open-ended. Fae hated to be entrapped with what they deemed too direct a question.
"It would, perhaps, be beneficial to do so," Easton said. He looked away from Dan, running one long finger over a potted fiddle leaf fig. The plant quivered slightly, and Dan could see it stand up just a little straighter in its terracotta pot as though invigorated by Easton's touch.
"Have you talked to your sister since we last spoke?" Dan asked. While Easton was a Fae, his reason for seeking Dan's services was decidedly human. Easton had a large number of brothers and sisters, one of whom had decided to turn her back on tradition and take a human job outside the family's isolated mountain community. It had caused something of an uproar, and Easton was caught between the dictates of tradition and love for his sister, no matter how much he disapproved of her choices.
"I have many sisters," Easton replied. "But perhaps you mean Isla."
"I do," Dan said. "Have you spoken with Isla?"
"I have not spoken with Isla," Easton admitted. There was a long silence. "But perhaps I wish I had," he offered.
"Do you think we could make a plan for speaking with Isla?" Dan asked.
"It would be perfectly possible to make such a plan," Easton said. "I cannot see any particular impediments."
"Would you like to make a plan for speaking with Isla, right here with me, right now?" Dan asked, feeling his patience wear thin. There was another long pause, and Dan wondered if he had been too direct.
But Easton smiled faintly. "Yes," he said. "Yes, I think, perhaps, I would."
✽✽✽
Dan's appointment with Easton lasted exactly ninety minutes. When it finished, Easton had thanked him graciously, and swept down the hall, looking a little like a reject from a casting call for Peter Pan in his emerald green outfit and bare feet.
Stretching widely, Dan put down his pen and notepad. He'd type up the notes tomorrow, he decided. He wanted to go home. Sunset was coming, and he needed to shift as soon as he could.
But he was tired. Aunt Tess had been right about that. He'd grab a coffee first, just to give him enough energy to make it through the evening until the jaguar took over.
Mountain Espresso was something of a local institution. It boasted the best coffee this side of the mountains, and their delectable open-faced sandwiches and homemade cakes had an almost cult following. It also happened to be conveniently right next to the Allied Health Centre. As such, it was patronised by just about everyone who worked there.
The only problem, in Dan's opinion, was the owners.
"Dan!" a voice greeted him as he opened the door. "How nice to see you! Your aura seems a little dim! I think you need a pick-me-up."
Dan gritted his teeth. Tilly, one half of the Mountain Espresso team, was always commenting on his aura. She was no witch, though. Tilly had about as much genuine knowledge of the paranormal world as a wombat did of quantum string theory. But that didn't stop Tilly from filling the coffee shop with crystals and candles, or from dancing naked under the full moon. Which she had described to him in disturbingly vivid detail.
"Just a large flat white, thanks," he said, pulling out his phone and flicking through his total lack of messages in an effort to stop Tilly from talking to him. It didn't work.
"So how are you, Dan?" Tilly pressed. "How's business? You know, I've got some great cleansing crystals that might really help some of your—"
"Business is fine," Dan interrupted. "Busy," he finished shortly, still looking down at his phone and not at Tilly's eager face or her long, greying hair escaping from its loose bun decorated with fresh flowers.
He thought he was safe when a new customer came in, taking Tilly's attention away from him, but then a bearded face appeared from behind the espresso machine.
"Dan. My friend. Good to see," Gregor said solemnly, nodding at him. Gregor wasn't quite so loquacious as his wife. Perhaps it was a German thing, Dan didn't know. Still, Gregor was far too friendly and inquisitive for Dan's tastes.
Dan nodded back, hoping this would be the end of the conversation.
"Are you having good week? Busy with work, yes?"
"Very busy," Dan said, watching as Gregor expertly frothed the milk. If his calculations were correct, his coffee would be ready in 97 seconds. Then he could get the hell out of there.
"Not good to be too busy," Gregor advised him, looking grave. "Make time to enjoy life. Friends. Family. Love." At the last word, Gregor looked over at his wife. Their eyes met, and Tilly blushed like a teenager, giving Gregor a flirtatious smile. And that was something Dan really didn't need to see. He knew far more about Tilly and Gregor's sex life - still rampant, even in their fifties - than anyone would ever want to.
"Er, right," Dan said, still looking down at his phone. No messages, not that he expected any. And his only email was a sales alert, encouraging him to buy now and save on a great range of battery-powered torches. He had purchased one single torch online when he had first moved into his cabin. It wasn't the start of a collection. Why did they keep bothering him?
"Large flat white, my friend." Gregor interrupted his perusal of torches (why would anyone want a torch that projected disco lights?), sliding the coffee in its cheerful yellow biodegradable cup across the counter.
"Thanks," Dan said, taking it and turning away.
"Make time for life, my friend!" Gregor called after him as Dan exited the coffee shop in long-legged strides. "And love!"
"Always make time for love, Dan!" Tilly chimed in, giving him a cheery wave.
Dan grimaced and was glad to shut the door behind him. He dearly wished he could give up going there. But, he thought as he took a sip, the coffee was just too damn good.
✽✽✽
The sun was low - so very low in the sky - and Dan couldn't wait any longer. His skin was itching with the need to shift. He wished, almost every day, that he wasn't a shifter. It wasn't like he had any say in the matter. With both of his parents being shifters, it would have taken one hell of a strong recessive gene to avoid it. And so far, he had been entirely unable to find anything even vaguely resembling a cure.
Dan had used his entire paranormal network to try and find a witch or warlock capable of curing his condition, but it had come to nothing. Nothing but wasted money and broken promises. The closest he had ever got to a cure was an elderly warlock who had sold him a potion that had made all his hair fall out. The jaguar, too, had been bald for a few months, but it had still been very much present.
Dan slowly stripped off his far-too-nice collared shirt and tailored trousers, unlaced his smart brown brogues, slipped off his socks and pushed down his jocks. The entire outfit, right down to his silk and bamboo blend jocks, had been given to him by Auntie Tess. It was unnecessarily expensive, of course, but he was happy enough to use her gifts to look like the professional psychologist he was supposed to be. He took off his glasses last and placed them on top of the neat pile.
He could, in a pinch, shift without getting undressed. But he figured a jaguar wearing stretched purple jocks would be even more conspicuous than a naked one, so he didn't make that mistake too often.
He stood there, completely naked, and extremely grateful that his cabin was isolated and surrounded by tall eucalyptus trees and dense undergrowth. Dan stretched his arms over his head, rising to his toes. There was a hint of a breeze in the warm air, and he knew just how good it wou
ld feel to run, powerful and free, as the jaguar.
Before he could shift, however, a sound interrupted him. A very distinct meow. Dan turned, and saw, to his great surprise, a cat with sleek black fur slinking around the edge of his cabin towards him. And he suddenly really wished he wasn't naked. It felt strangely awkward to be naked in front of a cat.
"Er, hello," he said to the cat, holding his hands in front of his most sensitive parts in case it tried to swipe a paw at him. "Clear off home, this isn't house cat business."
The cat looked at him with its yellow eyes, and meowed again, jumping up lightly onto his veranda. It was like a miniature version of what Dan himself would soon become. The cat sat down and began to lick itself vigorously.
"Fine," Dan said, sighing. "Suit yourself. You can take a rest here, but then you need to go back to wherever you belong, okay?"
The cat took no notice of him. Dan shook his head, turning away. He wasn't going to let himself be distracted by a stray cat.
Dan took a deep breath, and shifted. It wasn't that he had to consciously force himself to change. It was more that he simply had to stop fighting his body's urge. It had hurt like hell, the first few times he had shifted. His skin splitting, bones lengthening, powerful claws erupting from his fingers. But now the process was swift, almost painless, and in a moment, a huge, mighty jaguar stood, alert and listening, where Dan had been just a moment before.
As the jaguar, he turned and saw the domestic cat still sitting on his veranda. Their eyes met. The cat didn't seem afraid of him, or even particularly surprised that what was previously a large human man had turned into a supersized version of itself. Instead, the cat just kept licking itself with an air of satisfaction.
Dan turned back and sniffed the air, his senses keen, his ears pricked for sound. He could smell kangaroos and wallabies in the distant bush. The scent was delicious, intoxicating, thrilling. It was time to hunt.
Witch Way Now: A Paranormal Romantic Comedy (Raising Hell Downunder Book 4) Page 29