Tuesday, September 30. Car. Work. Again.

I called Sarah as soon as I got in the car. It was late enough she should be in class. 

I’d leave a message, try to smooth things over, and then get on with the day.

Maybe, if I was lucky, I might even live through it.

I headed toward my apartment, already running through everything I had to do before facing work—and a pissed boss—while the phone rang. 

“Hello?”

Shit. I hadn’t planned on actually talking to Sarah this morning. I stumbled for a minute trying to find words.

“Uh, hi,” I said. 

Smooth, Nate. Real smooth.

“Hi—“

“I thought you’d be at work,” I said, cringing as the words left my mouth.

“I am. I stepped out.”

Because I never called her while she was at work. Which meant she was worried.

“Sorry, I’m fine. I was going to leave you a message.”

“Really, Nate? You’ve been blowing me off for days. Now you call during work just to say I’m fine—I really didn’t want to talk to you?”

Shit. She was pissed. 

“I didn’t mean it like that,” I muttered.

“You’ve been a ghost for the past week. It’s like you fell off the map. What’s going on?”

Images of salt circles, Lusa pale and frightened, of hollows snapping at my heels, falling to the ground, canine teeth buried in my arm flashed through my mind.

“Work. It’s been…insane,” I said.

“So insane you can’t spare five minutes of your time?”

“I’m calling now, aren’t I?” I snapped. And instantly regretted it. “Look—” I said, trying to catch her before she hung up. “I’m sorry, that’s what I called to say. I’m sorry I bailed on you—and that I’ve been so tied up I forgot to call.”

Silence greeted me.

“Can we try again on that date? I can’t do anything in the evenings. But maybe Saturday? Let’s get brunch or lunch or something. We could see that festival downtown. Isn’t that near the new coffee place you wanted to try?”

Sarah loved coffee more than I did. Before this contract, coffee was merely a vehicle for caffeine. I didn’t really care what caffeine drove, just that it arrived. 

For Sarah, it had to be fancy—fluffy spiced latte in a handmade mug kind of coffee.  

“I’m really sorry,” I said again.

“You’ve got a funny way of showing it, I’ll give you that.”

I waited. Heart in my throat. 

“Fine. Let’s do brunch.”

I let out a breath. “Pick you up?”

“You won’t have to rush off for work halfway through?”

“If the office calls, I’ll ignore it.”

“I’ll see you at ten then.”

“Sounds good. Love you.”

A long pause. Finally, “Love you too.”

Oh yeah, she was still pissed. One hand-thrown, kiln-fired mug from a local maker would be expected as an apology. 

At least one.

I stopped by my apartment first and got my gun. And both magazines. And an entire box of ammo. 

If hollows tried to make me a chew toy again tonight, I’d give them something to chew on.

Showering was an ordeal. The water stung as it hit my injuries. I wasn’t sure if I should leave Lusa’s paste packed in my wounds or not. 

Washed it out.

 The bite marks were angry red and swollen, but not nearly as much as the willow’s damage had been—and these were deeper. Maybe there was something to Lusa’s herbs or the grove’s healing. 

The last of my antiseptic cream only covered the damage to my leg. And I didn’t have anything to wrap my arm.

Decided to sacrifice another undershirt.

I wrapped it loosely under my button-down. Hopefully that would keep me from bleeding everywhere while I went to the store for another round of unplanned expenses. 

Top of the list? A decent first aid kit.

It was almost ten when I snuck into the office. I’d told John first thing I’d had a medical emergency and would be late—but I’d really rather not deal with my boss right away.

My shirt sleeve wouldn’t fit over my freshly re-wrapped arm. It wasn’t easy to do one-handed and my attempt was nowhere near as neat as Lusa’s had been. I’d settled for rolling up that sleeve, already bracing for the questions.

Why yes, a shadow mutt decided I was an excellent substitute for dog chow.

“Halberg!”

How did she do that? Did she have a security feed in her office? I wouldn’t put it past the…annoying woman who signed my paychecks.

I waved to Linda, our receptionist, with a ‘wish me luck’ expression as I walked by her desk. 

Her eyebrows climbed as she took in my arm. 

She mouthed, What happened? 

I shrugged and stuck my head in Caldwell’s office.

“Yes ma’am?”

“You’re late.”

“Medical emergency,” I said, lifting my arm. No way she’d missed it. “I told John.”

“You will, of course, not let your work suffer?”

I bit back a retort on where she could shove my work. 

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” The words came out tight.

She stared at me, steepling her fingers. 

“Why are you standing there? Get to it.”

Because you hadn’t dismissed me, duh. But I only said, “Yes ma’am.”

I waved at Linda again as I headed for my desk, but didn’t stop to chat.

I’d like to see how my boss handled a pack of hollows. Pictured her trying to run in those ‘sensible’ heels— 

Stop. Too far. 

Caldwell might be a control freak who made me forget a gentleman’s code of conduct sometimes, but she was still a woman. Which made my options clear. 

I didn’t have to like it, but I knew I’d step in the path of a hollow going after any woman. 

Even her.

“Hi, Nate.” Mei peeked over the cubicle wall across from me. “John wants me to take the Everline—” She blinked. “Oh my gosh, what happened?” 

I dumped the stack of folders I was carrying and sat heavily. The folders were pure habit at this point. It wasn’t like I would get any actual work done once I left the office. Not with warden duty on top of everything else. 

“Got on the bad side of a chihuahua,” I said, forcing a grin I didn’t feel.

“Do chihuahuas have a good side?”

I shrugged. Didn’t have the energy to return fire.

“Is that why you were late? Was it a neighbor’s dog?”

“No. Some stray.”

Mei clucked sympathetically. “I have a spot free. John wants me to take the Everline account since you have your hands full with problem children.”

I found Everline and ran off a fresh status sheet. She scanned it.

“Oh, you already have the August reconciliation done?”

“Finished it yesterday. You should be set until end-of-month numbers come in—tomorrow or Thursday. Terrance is very prompt with their paperwork.”

She nodded, scanning the sheet. “I almost feel bad taking this. You’ve done the hard part already.”

I waved a hand—and winced. I needed to remember to quit using that arm. “One less thing on my plate. Is Marcus in?”

She must have stood on a box because her head popped up higher as she looked two cubicles over. “Yup. Want me to grab him?”

“Please. I’m supposed to give him Griffin.”

It was growing dark when I pulled into the primitive camping lot. Loading up my new—ouch—backpack one-handed was inconvenient, but I managed. I’d changed before leaving the office, so my loose overshirt hid my gun. The belt holster felt awkward. I berated myself for not having my concealed permit yet—or spending more time getting comfortable carrying the thing. 

Georgia had open carry laws, but I didn’t like advertising I was armed—and plenty of places in Athens frowned on it. I could shoot, sure. But a firearm being a part of my everyday gear? 

That was for people who faced danger every day— 

Oh, right. Lately one of those people was me.

I hefted the bag of ag salt on my right shoulder, loosely holding the staff in my left hand, and hobbled into the woods. Even with the wound tape I’d layered over the claw marks on my leg, hiking in stiff denim was not fun. I was beginning to wish I’d left my slacks on. Or heck, put on a pair of lounge pants.

Fat lot of good wishing did now.

I kept moving, scanning for shifting shadows and sickly green eyes. 

The red glow of my flashlight didn’t help. Everything seemed eerie, almost larger than life. 

But I made it to the grove without spotting more than miasma—had there been more of them about?

Our shadow guards were in their usual spot when I arrived.

“Scar. Khan,” I said, nodding like we were neighbors. 

Fake it ‘til you make it. If I didn’t act like they didn’t scare me, I’d be halfway back to the car already.  

Khan replied with a coughing laugh that scraped across my bones and showed a lot of teeth. Not sure how I knew they were his teeth—shadow or not—but message received. 

I grinned big enough to show mine.

Take that, shadow kitty.

Scar made a show of standing and stretching. 

I walked faster.

When I crossed the fraying salt line and set down the heavy bag, I realized I could feel the grove. It radiated life—sleepy life, something like squirrels curling up in their nests for a winter nap—but more importantly it felt like I’d finally come…

…home.

After the day I’d had, the warmth, the welcome, hit me like a sucker punch to the gut.

I shook my head, rubbing my eyes. Nope, was not about to get emotional here. 

“Got your salt,” I said to Lusa by way of greeting, letting the salt thump to the ground.

I gingerly sat next to her, fishing out the cheap phone I’d bought this morning. Lusa passed me the stone and took it, turning it over in her hands. 

The warmth of the grove rushed to meet me from the stone and I felt my shoulders release tension I hadn’t realized I was carrying. 

Not good. Somehow this—being here—was beginning to feel more real than the rest of my life. 

I had to get myself out of this mess quick.

“It looks different than your…phone,” she said.

“It is. It’s not as fancy as mine, sorry. But it should be simple enough to call me if you need me. Or for me to tell you when I’m tied up.”

I walked her through how to read messages, how to place or answer a call.

“Don’t answer any call that isn’t me,” I cautioned. “We don’t know who had that number before you. You’ll probably get spam calls. And texts.”

“Spam calls?”

I searched through my memory for a phrase that might be more appropriate. “Swindler?”

“Ah. Charlatan.”

“Yes.”

“And they know how to reach this…phone? Could you not get one they did not know?”

I laughed until my sides ached. “I’m sorry, I’m not laughing at you,” I said, when I could finally breathe again. “Believe me, I would pay good money for a phone number they couldn’t reach.”

“They…call…you too?”

“They call most people. You just get good at ignoring numbers you don’t recognize.”

She nodded and stared at the little phone.

“I got a battery bank,” I said. “We will have to charge your phone while I’m here and then I’ll charge the bank when I get to work.”

She gave me a blank look.

“I have to feed it so it will work,” I said.

“I see.”

I held the anchor while Lusa ate. Dinner wasn’t fancy—shredded chicken wrap with a simple mayo drizzle—but as usual, she ate ravenously.

Her skin had lost the wan, pale shade. It was darker now. When she moved, light seemed to trail in her wake like an afterimage. 

If a few days in a makeshift grove made that much difference, what had she looked like when she last walked the earth?

Had she radiated life?

Had there been more like her?

It wasn’t a stretch to see how glimpses of beings like her could give rise to myth—spirits, fae, gods walking among men. 

What had the world been like then? Had it been more alive?

Or had shadow sought to corrupt and destroy?

I shook my head. Didn’t matter.

Right now my problem was this tattoo on my chest and the woman it bound me to.