[Kassandra Lyall Preternatural Investigator 03] - Bloody Claws

by Winter Pennington

  Lenorre, my mother, and my brother talked freely. Somewhere during their casual conversation and questions of how we met and how long we'd been together, Bailey sneaked up behind me and started begging for attention, which I gave, ruffling the top of her furry head.

  "Start setting the table," my mother said to me when the timer in the kitchen beeped. To Lenorre, she said, "You're welcome to help yourself to Bailey. She's been driving me bonkers all day."

  Lenorre tilted her head. I couldn't tell what she was thinking, but I reached out and touched her arm gently. "She's joking and they're harmless. Please, don't run screaming."

  The corner of her mouth twitched. "I do not run screaming."

  My brother put a hand on Lenorre's shoulder and said, "Then you'll fit right in."

  Lenorre might not have been the type to run screaming, but if Bailey didn't get off my heels, I was considering it.

  "Bailey!" I exclaimed as we made it into the dining room. "Get off my ass!" Bailey fell back, hesitating for a second with the command. I set the table, sparing glances at Lenorre.

  She smiled, reassuring me that she wasn't going to slip out the back.

  Halfway through my meal, I excused myself from the table to use my mother's bathroom. I turned the faucet on over the shell-shaped sink, washed my hands, and dried them on the designated blue hand towel.

  "Kassandra."

  I froze until a strand of hair tickled my cheek and I whipped around to face the mirror.

  It was only for a moment, a split second, long enough to blink. I saw Avaliah, her eyes burning with an inner fire.

  An owl hooted outside the bathroom window and I jumped, backing up too hard and too fast and hitting the towel rack behind me.

  When I looked back to the mirror, the image was gone. I clutched a handful of my shirt, trying to remember how to breathe. A light tap sounded on the door, sending my heart jumping back up into my throat.

  "Kassandra?" It was Lenorre's voice. "Are you well?"

  I opened the door with shaking hands. "I'm fine."

  "You don't look fine." She stepped into the bathroom, investigating.

  She brought my attention to the towel rack. I'd knocked a screw loose, leaving it hanging in a way that my mildly OCD mother would notice.

  "Shit," I said.

  "What happened?"

  "I ran into the towel bar, obviously," I grumbled.

  "That's not all, Kassandra."

  I shook my head. "Not here, Lenorre." I set about trying to push the loose screw back into the wall with my fingers, which worked out well enough to disguise the fact that I'd knocked it loose in the first place. Of course, it'd only disguise it until someone came along to use the towel to dry their hands.

  Lenorre took me by the shoulders, turning me to face her, her beautiful features etched with concern. "Kassandra, what happened?"

  "I'll tell you later, Lenorre. Not here. It's not a conversation for here and I'm not letting that bitch ruin my night."

  Lenorre's mind worked behind her eyes.

  "Avaliah?" she asked.

  I nodded.

  "When we go back out there, stay close to me."

  "You don't think she'd try to do anything here, do you?" I asked.

  "It wouldn't be in her wisest interest," Lenorre said. She took my trembling hands in hers, pulling me into the circle of her arms. I let her, breathing out a sigh and trying to force myself to relax.

  "Calm your beast, Kassandra."

  "I'm trying." I could feel her within me, her senses rocked to high alert, pacing uncertainly, uncomfortably, feeling my anxiety as her own.

  It made my chest tight. It made me focus harder on breathing.

  When I could feel my heartbeat slow against Lenorre's chest, she released me, her energy clinging to my skin like soft snow.

  "Thank you." I hadn't realized until she stepped away that she'd been helping, which said something of Lenorre's subtlety.

  She pressed her silken mouth against mine, murmuring, "You're welcome."

  I licked my lips, tasting her coolness.

  Lenorre buried her face in the bend of my neck, our scents mingling like a cool summer night.

  "Lenorre?" I interrupted the moment.

  "Hmm?"

  "You didn't poof on my family, did you?"

  Lenorre stood up straight. "Bloody hell," she said.

  I laughed.

  "What?" she asked.

  "I'm taking that 'bloody hell,' as a yes, and well, with your track record, they were going to find out about your poofing abilities, eventually." I laughed again. The corners of her mouth twitched before she let out a quiet chuckle.

  "Hey, lovebirds!" Keegan called from the dining room. "You going to join us again anytime soon?"

  I peeked out the bathroom door and yelled down the hallway, "Coming!"

  "Hope not!" Keegan responded. "Don't think mom would appreciate you using her bathroom for that!"

  I heard my mother exclaim, "Keegan!"

  When we made it back to the dining room, Keegan was grinning like a twelve-year-old boy.

  I sat down, ignoring Bailey as she stirred from the floor at my mother's feet to come sit on the floor by me.

  My father engaged Keegan in a conversation about sports as we finished our meal. I was only half-listening, focusing on the only slightly warm food in front of me when a chill made the back of my neck prickle.

  I dropped my fork, clinging tightly to the knife in my right hand.

  Not now, I thought. Fucking hell, not again.

  A voice whispered like the dance of leaves across concrete. Soon.

  Lenorre put her hand over mine, her energy washing over me like cool silk, drowning out that rustling sound and putting an end to the creepy sensation that crawled up my spine.

  "Not tonight," Lenorre whispered low enough not to be heard, her eyes slightly misty with power.

  "Dessert?" my mother asked.

  Lenorre blinked, her gaze returning to normal. She smiled beautifully. "No, thank you. Kassandra?"

  Slowly, I lowered the knife, keeping Lenorre's hand in mine. "Sure," I said. "I hope to hell it's chocolate."

  About the Author

  Winter Pennington is an author, poet, artist, and closeted musician. She is an avid practitioner of nature-based spirituality and enjoys spending her spare time studying mythology from around the world. The Celtic path is very close to her heart. She has an uncanny fascination with swords and daggers, and a fondness for feeding loud and obnoxious corvids. In the shadow of her writing, she has experience working with a plethora of animals as a pet care specialist and veterinary assistant.

  Winter currently resides in Oklahoma with her partner and their family of furry kids.

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