by Chant, Zoe
So off she’d gone, even over her protests. But he’d missed her while she was away. The house had been so empty without her. It made him afraid of the day that she packed up and moved out for good, which wasn’t far off. She was planning on going to college, and he knew that she could very well end up one of those young people who went off and settled somewhere far away.
But if that was what she wanted, he’d support her. More than anything, he wanted Hayley to be happy.
And safe.
And to that end, he shifted in the yard and threw himself into the cold air. It was already dark, as winter settled in around them. It had snowed a few times here in town, but hadn’t stuck around quite yet. They were due for the first big winter storm soon.
Maybe that would convince the lions to keep away. They were equatorial animals, after all. They couldn’t enjoy the snow very much.
Although frankly, he’d think that that would mean they’d settle somewhere further south, even if they had stuck to the city instead of coming up into the mountains. He supposed that if comfort were a big issue for humans, no one would ever have left the equatorial regions at all, and there was no reason to think it was different for shifters.
There were always other factors. Like wanting to invade and take over.
Well, Victor had been thwarted, and Malachi’s second patrol of the day was revealing no lion presence in the town or the surrounding woods so far.
The dark didn’t bother him much, fortunately. Malachi was descended from a line of dragons who were designed to take cover at night; his dragon form was coal-black, and he was almost completely invisible when flying in the dark. Correspondingly, his night vision was better than any other dragon’s he’d ever met.
It made night patrols much easier. He usually took them, although Flynn, whose griffin form had come with a cat’s night vision, was also very good at seeing in the dark.
Malachi had been out for an hour, with no sign of any large animals or humans lurking in the woods outside of town, and was about ready to turn home, when he heard wingbeats.
He banked and wheeled around, expecting to see Flynn, or maybe even just one of the other town shifters out for a flight because they felt like it. People hadn’t been doing that much since the hostilities had started, but maybe now they were starting to feel safer again.
It wasn’t Flynn.
It wasn’t a dragon he recognized, either.
He thought for a split-second that it was Ronan, because no other dragon in town had that dramatic dark red color. Then he thought that he must be mistaken about the color in the dark, because it definitely was not Ronan—Ronan’s crest was shaped completely differently.
But he wasn’t mistaken about the color. It was a red dragon, and it was not Ronan.
Adrenaline slammed into him. Opening his wings, he made his silhouette as large as possible, unmistakable. The other dragon wheeled around, coming to face him.
For a moment, they both hovered in the air. Then Malachi started forward.
He wasn’t sure what was about to happen. He’d never been in a real midair fight before, only mock battles for fun or practice with the other locals. But if the other dragon was hostile, he was ready to win his first one.
It didn’t stay to meet him, though. As Malachi picked up speed, the red dragon turned and winged its way away, heading west away from town.
Malachi slowed, watching the dragon go. He toyed with the idea of following it back to wherever it had come from, but quickly discarded it: if the dragon was heading back to some kind of home base, there might be more of them waiting for it. Malachi wasn’t about to walk right into some kind of trap.
If that was what it was. The dragon could have just been an innocent traveler, flying through Pennsylvania for reasons of its own, and had been surprised to run into another shifter’s territory.
Nope. Malachi didn’t believe that for a second.
Especially given that they’d had intelligence just a few weeks ago that Victor had been attempting to set up an alliance with a clan of red dragons.
It was looking like Malachi should have taken Elizabeth up on her offer of a strategy meeting.
Chapter 11: Elizabeth
Elizabeth drifted awake once again.
At this point, she wasn’t confused about where she was any longer. She’d had to get up to pee a couple of times overnight—she really hadn’t thought that that symptom of pregnancy started so early! The baby couldn’t be sitting on her bladder yet, it was still tiny!—and each time, she’d opened her eyes to a sense of well-being.
Even when it was totally dark. It seemed like she’d learned that the scent of Malachi and Hayley’s guest bedroom meant safety and comfort.
Home, her lioness purred in her chest.
Don’t get used to it, Elizabeth warned. We’ll have to leave soon enough. Remember, we’re not overstaying our welcome.
But as usual, her inner lioness had absolutely no interest in listening to reason. Home, she repeated, and Elizabeth rolled her eyes and went to take a shower.
Which she could do much more easily than she had at Lila’s, now that she had all of the soaps and shampoos that she could possibly want.
She still couldn’t believe that a bunch of strangers had just given her all of this stuff. It wasn’t even about the cost—it would have been a lot for any one person, but it must not have set anyone individually back very far.
It was the idea that they’d all decided to do this, and put it together, in just a few hours, which must have taken some serious coordination and effort. For someone they’d never met.
Well, she wasn’t used to charity, but since she truly needed it and all these people had been kind enough to provide it for her, she was going to appreciate it. She took a shower and used the soap and the shampoo and the razor and the loofah, and after she got out she used the fancy lotion—which felt luxurious on her skin; she was going to have to remember the brand and buy it herself if she ever got a job again.
When she was all clean and nice-smelling, she found the pile of borrowed clothes back in the guest room.
She wasn’t used to going out into the world in anything less than the armor of a suit. When she’d been in law school, a mentor had advised her, Always dress how people think a lawyer is going to look. You’ll get the respect and attention you deserve.
She’d taken that to heart. Even when she wasn’t going to work, if she was going to be out among strangers, she pretty much always dressed in a decent suit. It gave her a boost of confidence, an energy and purpose—serious clothes, for a serious woman who was out to accomplish her goals.
And her mentor had been right: people did react with attention and respect when you wore a nice suit. It was almost magical, the different responses she’d get when she was in a suit as opposed to jeans and a T-shirt.
But she’d been wearing that suit for days. The skirt and even the jacket could probably have kept going, but the pantyhose and the shirt were absolutely finished. She wondered if there was a dry cleaner’s in Oak Ridge or not.
Probably not. She set her own clothes aside with some regret, and went to look at the fruits of everyone’s generosity.
Nothing was going to fit quite right, but she found a blue flared skirt that settled on her hips about like it was supposed to, and a knit top to go with it. After a glance out the window at the flurries coming down, she added a sweater. Nothing to do about shoes, of course; she wished she’d brought her boots, but all she had were heels.
Of course, she didn’t know if she was going out at all. Maybe shoes wouldn’t be a problem.
Rest, Dr. MacAllister had said. What did that mean, exactly? He hadn’t said bed rest, which was something she’d heard pregnant women sometimes had to do, and she had a vague impression that that meant staying in bed all the time.
God, she hoped she wouldn’t have to do that. She’d go absolutely stir-crazy. Malachi would have to brick the bedroom door closed to keep her from breaking free and esc
aping.
Not that she’d necessarily be here long enough for it to be Malachi’s problem. Not that any of her problems were necessarily Malachi’s problems even while she was here.
There was a knock at her door. “Elizabeth?”
“Yes, come in,” she said, turning to see Malachi’s head peeking through the open door. It was charming how he did that, looked carefully to check that it really was all right before he stepped fully into the room.
“Good morning,” he said. “Did you sleep well?”
“Very well, thank you. It’s—” she checked the alarm clock on the nightstand and winced, “—almost afternoon, really.”
He smiled. “You needed the sleep, I know. It’s good you slept so much, and I bet Reid would say the same.”
“Probably,” she admitted.
“Are you hungry? I think Hayley cleaned the cupboards out without me noticing, but we could go to Lachlan’s Diner if you’re feeling up to leaving the house.”
Elizabeth almost said yes automatically, and then stopped, glancing down at her stomach. She wasn’t just responsible for her own health anymore; she was responsible for the baby’s. She had to be a little more careful with her body.
So she actually took a moment to assess how she was feeling. The bone-deep exhaustion had lifted a bit—she would hope so, after sleeping for about sixteen of the last twenty-four hours!—and she felt like she had a little more energy.
Plus, and this was the most astonishing part, she was hungry. Again. Twice in two days!
“I would love to go to the diner,” she told Malachi honestly, still amazed at the sensation coming from her stomach. Hunger.
She would’ve thought, before the last couple of months, that if she never had to get hungry, that would be incredibly convenient. She could just eat whenever she had time, as much as would be enough to nourish her, without having to be a slave to the demands of her body.
But she would’ve been so very, very wrong. Eating food when she wasn’t hungry was an awful chore, and she’d found more than once that she felt terrible—weak, tired, achey—as though she was getting sick, and then had realized that it was only because she hadn’t eaten a thing that day and it was coming up on dinnertime.
Which couldn’t be good for the baby.
So it was just...nice, to have hunger back again. Very nice.
Even if her stomach was suddenly telling her that it was about to start eating her insides if she didn’t get some food into her.
“Anytime you’re ready to leave is good for me,” she said to Malachi, keeping her tone polite, rather than the ravaging Feed me immediately or face the consequences that wanted to come out.
“I’m ready now,” he said with a smile. “That’s a nice outfit.”
She looked down at the skirt-and-sweater combo. “Oh—thanks. I should find out whose clothes these are and thank them, too.”
“’Fraid I don’t know,” Malachi said ruefully. “I don’t notice women’s clothes too much, unless Hayley’s wearing a T-shirt that says something rude on it.”
Elizabeth chuckled dutifully, but her mind had caught on the logical flaw in his statement. He didn’t notice women’s clothes—but he’d noticed hers just a second ago; that was the only reason they were talking about clothes at all.
It doesn’t mean anything, she told herself firmly. He’s just making conversation. “Shall we go?”
Food was more important than anything right now, anyway.
***
Elizabeth had been to Lachlan’s once before, but that had been clandestinely, at night, to meet Lila without Victor knowing that she was looking for evidence against him. She hadn’t ordered any food, and probably wouldn’t have been able to eat it if she had.
At the time, she’d thought of the town as a bit sinister-looking, and the diner as a standard low-down meeting place, like somewhere a detective might talk to an informant in a cop show.
It was strange, how different it seemed now, in the light of day, when she actually knew some people in town. And wasn’t consumed with anxiety about whether Victor was going to find out what she was doing.
The diner was actually incredibly charming. It was a little brick building, with actual curtains in the windows, and when she and Malachi went inside, they were greeted by a smiling handsome blond man.
“Hi, Malachi, nice to see you. And you must be Elizabeth. How are you doing? Do you need anything?”
The man was holding out his hand, and Elizabeth shook, a little overwhelmed by his—everything. It felt like he was projecting an aura of...solicitousness. “I’m doing just fine,” she assured him. “I don’t need anything. The town has already been extremely generous. And you are...?”
“Oh, I’m Lachlan. Sorry. Should’ve introduced myself.” He smiled, warm and bright, and turned to lead them to the table. “You got the care package?” he asked over his shoulder.
So this was Lachlan. Elizabeth had to admit, he was just as advertised. “Yes, thank you. It was everything I could’ve needed. Really, you’ve all been more than helpful.”
“No more than anyone should’ve done,” he said, somehow managing to be serious and cheerful at the same time. “I’ll leave you to look at the menus. Check out the specials, they’re very good today.” He grinned and disappeared.
Elizabeth let out a breath, settling into the booth with a thump. “He’s...a lot.”
Malachi laughed quietly. “He sure is. I don’t know what the town would do without him, though. This diner is really the heart of Oak Ridge.”
“I believe it,” Elizabeth said softly. And she did. The whole place had a warm, homey feel about it, which made a lot of sense, now that she’d met the man who ran it.
Domestic goddess, Hayley had called him, and Elizabeth had to smile. It seemed to fit.
“I guess we should look at the specials,” she said, and pulled out the menu insert to see.
She blinked. Ginger pork soup dumplings was the first entry. And then, Braised rabbit with polenta and mushrooms. “This doesn’t look like diner food,” she said without thinking.
Malachi chuckled. “If you want a burger or pancakes and eggs, you can get them,” he said. “Just look at the regular menu. The specials are where Lachlan likes to play around with stuff he reads about in cookbooks. I overheard Cam saying once that one of his favorite things is to watch Youtube videos of old grandmothers making their signature recipes and telling their grandkids to turn the dumb camera off the entire time.”
That made Elizabeth laugh. “Wow. Okay. Well, I suppose I’ll have to order a special to see what he can really do. Soup dumplings sound good.”
Her stomach growled, and she blushed.
“Maybe we can start out with something first,” Malachi said, turning to look for a waiter.
But before he could flag someone down and ask for anything, Lachlan reappeared. He set a plate of biscuits and a little ramekin of butter down on the table. “On the house,” he said, and disappeared again.
Elizabeth stared after him, amazed at the weirdly perfect timing. “How did he do that?”
“Better not to ask,” Malachi advised. “Take a biscuit.”
Elizabeth did. She broke it in half, and steam came out of the soft center. Her stomach growled again, and she reached for her knife to spread some of the—was it butter? It looked softer and more...golden, somehow.
When she bit into the biscuit, she realized why. It was honey butter, and it complemented the cloud-soft biscuit perfectly. She realized belatedly that she’d closed her eyes, it was so delicious.
When she opened them, Malachi was watching her with a little smile on his face. Elizabeth blushed—she must have looked silly, going into raptures over a biscuit. “This is really good,” she said awkwardly.
“Lachlan’s food always is.” He took a biscuit for himself. “We’re spoiled, really. Most people have to go to a big city for food like this, and you still wouldn’t get the experience of eating at a place owned by someon
e you’ve known since he was a kid, full of your neighbors and friends.”
Elizabeth didn’t know what to say to that. It did sound nice. It definitely beat ordering sushi and eating it by herself in her apartment back in the city, which she’d always told herself she was lucky to be able to do.
“Maybe I’ll get the soup dumplings,” she said, to distract herself from the wistful thought that she probably wouldn’t ever have a place like this to go regularly. “Is it just dumplings in soup?”
“No idea,” Malachi said cheerfully. “But it’ll be good, you can bet on that.”
Somehow, before the waiter showed up to take their orders, all the biscuits disappeared. Along with all the honey butter. And Elizabeth was still hungry.
“It’s strange,” she said to Malachi after they’d ordered—she’d gone with the soup dumplings, and chosen not to ask what they were, because being surprised sounded fun. “To be hungry like this. It’s been a while.”
“Maybe Reid should check your—your blood sugar, or your iron levels, or things like that,” Malachi said, his brows drawing in. “I don’t know much about medical issues during pregnancy, but it can’t have been good for you.”
“It wasn’t,” Elizabeth confessed, staring down at the basket full of once-biscuit crumbs. “It was—it was very bad for me. I was alone, and anxious all the time—really, really scared, sometimes, that Victor would find out what I was doing, because after all, I was investigating him for killing someone for a perceived betrayal, and there I was doing the same thing. And I was throwing up all the time.”
She shuddered a little, remembering how awful it had been. “That first night—I’d thought I was just sick, you know, or that it was the stress and anxiety that was making me so nauseated. I’d just started investigating. I didn’t even know what I was going to do with the information I got. I hadn’t decided yet whether I really wanted to turn on my pack leader like that.”