Love and Other Wild Things E-Book

Molly Harper

• Herausgeber: NYLA
• Kategorie: Fantasy und Science-Fiction
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 334

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2019

Beschreibung

This hot, hilarious stand-alone will keep you wildly entertained! Welcome to Mystic Bayou, a tiny town hidden in the swamp where shape-shifters, vampires, witches, and dragons live alongside humans. The town formed around the mysterious energy rift in the bayou, which helps keep the town's magic in balance. But lately the rift has been widening and destabilizing - threatening to send the town's magical population into chaos. Energy witch Danica Teel has been sent by the League to figure out what's going on, with the help of bear-shifter Mayor Zed. While working on the case, Zed falls head over paws for Dani, but she's reluctant to engage in anything beyond a roll in his cave. Dani's family is counting on her to get the job done, and she has no time for distractions. But when an ominous presence begins stalking Dani through the bayou, they'll need to band together to make it out alive. This book is based on the Audible Original audiobook. "I highly recommend this book...sexy, flirty, hilarious in every scene and has a sexy hero that you want to keep for your own and a heroine that can fight her own battles!! I am hooked on the Mystic Bayou and the diverse characters that sweep you up!! I can't wait for the next one!!!"—Addicted To Romance "A fun paranormal series with plenty of humor, food and sweet romance."—Hot Listens

Leseprobe

LOVE AND OTHER WILD THINGS

MOLLY HARPER

COPYRIGHT

This book is licensed to you for your personal enjoyment only.

This book may not be sold, shared, or given away.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the writer’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Love and Other Wild Things

Copyright © 2018 by Molly Harper

ISBN:9781641970839

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

This ebook is based on an Audible Original audiobook.

No part of this work may be used, reproduced, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without prior permission in writing from the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

NYLA Publishing

121 W 27th St., Suite 1201, New York, NY 10001

http://www.nyliterary.com

CONTENTS

Acknowledgments

Prologue

1. Zed

2. Dani

3. Zed

4. Dani

5. Zed

6. Dani

7. Dani

8. Zed

9. Dani

10. Dani

11. Zed

12. Dani

13. Zed

14. Dani

15. Dani

16. Zed

17. Dani

Epilogue

Dani's Comfort Applesauce Recipe

Sneak Peek at Book 3, EVEN TREE NYMPHS GET THE BLUES

Also by Molly Harper

About the Author

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Thank you to the good people of Slidell, Louisiana for hosting me as I wrote a good portion of this book. Your eerily beautiful, Spanish-moss laden environment was the perfect inspiration.

As ever, thank you to Amanda Ronconi and Jonathan Davis for giving my characters a voice and for taking my extensive notes (read: bossiness) with such good grace. Thanks to Jaye Wells, who helped me come up with a better name for the series than, “That Audio Series I Can’t Seem to Come Up With a Good Name For.”

Thanks to www.spirit-animals.com for all of the information about llama spirit animals and their personality traits, and to a number of comic book fandom sites that helped me understand what the heck I was trying to express in terms of Dani’s talent.

PROLOGUE

If she got any closer to the rift, there was a good chance her head would explode.

She’d fought through the waist-high ferns and gone far beyond the rock circle that marked the safe distance for humans to approach the rift that purportedly separated this world from the next. For that matter, she’d gone beyond the rock line that marked the safe distance for the magique, the population of shapeshifter, fairy folk, and assorted monsters that populated Mystic Bayou. She’d ventured farther than anyone had ever dared, forcing her feet to carry her into the vast sacred site surrounding what the locals called la faille, and she was feeling the effects of it. The air felt too thick and heavy to breathe and it had nothing to do with the stifling heat of Louisiana in August. Her skin prickled, like fire ants were crawling up and down her bare arms. Her ears popped with the fluctuations in air pressure as it pulsed with pure energy just a hundred feet away.

But still, she’d come this far, too far, to stop now.

She set her backpack of supplies at her feet and admired what looked like the aurora borealis, hovering too close to the surface of water rippling beneath it, a living vortex of shifting color. Others described it in banal terms, as “a haze” in the air that could barely be detected without binoculars. But she could see what they couldn’t, the mesmerizing dance of prismatic flashes in the air. Her eyes ached with the intensity of the light, but she forced herself to stare into it.

There was no known explanation for this mystical vortex. There were no ley lines, no atmospheric anomalies, no massacres on the site. The rift in the fabric of what kept their world separate from whatever lay beyond just was and nothing could be done about it.

Being this close, she was witnessing something that perhaps no one had ever seen before, but she didn’t have time to stop and appreciate the moment. She had a job to do, and she had three, maybe five minutes before the pressure overwhelmed her and she passed out. And there was no one else around to drag her to a safe distance.

She forced her body into a relaxed standing position, shoulders loose and feet spread. She faced the light of the rift and drew the energy into herself, like a lover breathing in a kiss. She felt the burn of it sizzling through her cells and held it, focused on it with every bit of her concentration before taking a deep inhalation. She pictured the rift like a tear in fabric, holding on by the thinnest of strands. She pressed her palms to her chest as if in prayer and slid them away from her body, picturing that fabric splitting. She felt hesitation, push-back from seams that had no interest in separating and releasing more of the destabilizing force that was radiating out into Mystic Bayou. She inhaled and pushed her mind out even further, as if her own hands could grab either side of that visualized fabric and rip it apart.

The tension in her head eased the tiniest bit, and she took advantage, focusing as hard as she could on her target. The fabric ruptured and she watched the colors writhe even more frantically as the rift opened just a tiny bit more.

She smiled to her herself, reluctantly turning away from the change she’d made and jogged toward the rock circles on legs that still shook.

It wouldn’t be long now.

1

ZED

The old washtub was plotting against him, intentionally trying to mess up his day. That was the only explanation.

Zed Berend yanked at the old galvanized tub, perched precariously on top of Miss Lottie’s sun shower, but it would not budge. He was not a weak man. He was a brown bear, for shit’s sake. He’d managed to pull it off the mounts connecting it to the wooden slats that made up the shower walls, but the water kept sloshing around, the momentum working against his efforts. And he was afraid if he pulled any harder he would break the wooden slats and destroy the shower.

He’d promised Jillian he would have an actual shower installed—with plumbing, she’d been sure to clarify that—before anyone else moved into the maison de fous. Dr. Jillian Ramsay, Ph-damn-D, was an International League for Interspecies Cooperation anthropologist who’d been expecting to sleep in a tent in the rainforest before she’d been redirected to Mystic Bayou to study how the humans and magique managed to live there in relative harmony for so many generations. The League wanted to use Mystic Bayou as an example of how other communities might create safe, productive environments where magique and humans could live together. The League believed that someday soon, modern technology would shove the magique out of the shadows and into the light of the twenty-four-hour news cycle. The plan was to prevent pitch forks and panicked mobs by breaking out Jillian’s studies, which were now in full force. The League was sending dozens of researchers, scientists, and other paper-shufflers to make sure she got results sooner rather than later.

Jillian insisted that the League personnel being sent to Mystic Bayou over the next month would not be as accepting of the “Bohemian” showering conditions as she had been. And because Jillian was perhaps one of his favorite humans and definitely his favorite ILIC employee, he’d agreed to the minor renovation. Also, a mama nutria had birthed a litter of little baby swamp rats in the beaten copper tub by the sun shower, which had sort of proven Jillian’s point about the need for modernization. And walls around the bathing facilities.

So, he was converting Lottie’s old sun shower with brand new pipes from Burton Boone’s hardware store and one of those Time Life home improvement books from the 1980s. The faded hardback was the only one Miss Bardie would allow Zed to leave the parish library with, despite him being the mayor of Mystic Bayou and technically, her boss. But Bardie Boone was a dragon shifter who guarded her horde of library books the way most dragons protected their gold. And she’d never forgiven Zed for teething on a copy of TomSawyer when his adult canines were coming in.

Enclosing the shower in its own little cubby with walls and a critter-proof roof would take a few weeks. But still, he enjoyed working outdoors for once, soaking up some sun and fresh air. Since his election, Zed had often felt caged in his mayoral office. He’d jumped at the opportunity to be out in the sunshine, by the water, working with his hands. He enjoyed the veneer of quiet over the swamp, the illusion that everything was peaceful and serene and then the sudden bursts of noise—generally caused when some predator snapped up an unsuspecting snack—that reminded you that you were not in some safe little meadow.

This was Louisiana. Mother Nature—whichever incarnation of Mother Nature you happened to believe in—had a way of reminding you that she was still in charge.

Just like this stupid tub was showing Zed that it was still in charge. Growling, he yanked at the tub one last time. It suddenly popped loose of its moorings, only to have the water surge toward him and the container tip over, soaking him in lukewarm rainwater. He fumbled with the tub, feeling the perforated bottom give as he tried to catch it, before it landed with a clank on the wooden boards.

“Merde!” he grumbled, grateful that the screen that protected the water hadn’t smacked him in the face on its way down. And that Bael hadn’t been present to see Zed embarrass himself so thoroughly.

Zed shook his long dark hair out of his face like a dog. In the heat, it only took a few seconds for his clothes to feel like they’d been vacuum sealed to his body. He stripped out of his soaked shirt and threw it aside with a wet slap against the boards. Just then he heard his favorite lady anthropologist calling from the front of the house. He froze.

What was the etiquette for being shirtless in front of your best friend’s mate? Jillian was a doll, and he’d even considered making a play for her before he’d realized Bael was hung up on her.

Zed certainly didn’t have anything to hide. He was just as tall and muscular as every Berend male had ever dreamed of being. But he’d chew off his own paw before he made Jillian uncomfortable. And he didn’t want to have to deal with an angry, possessive dragon sheriff, either.

Could he wrestle his way back into his wet shirt, he wondered, eying the pile of wet cotton at his feet. No, that would just mean Jillian would walk back here to find him with his head and arms trapped in sopping, uncooperative material, which wasn’t exactly a step up from his current situation. Shifting into his other form and running into the depths of the swamp as a bear seemed like a good option, but it also involved dropping his pants. And Jillian could end up seeing him naked, which would compound the dragon jealousy issue. Could he dive into the water? Sure . . . if it wasn’t tail end of mating season for the local gators, who were not particularly choosy. He did not want to tangle with an amorous bull gator on top of everything else.

“Hey, Zed!” Jillian yelled as she came around the corner with a tall brunette. Her voice trailed off and she said, “Are you here? Oh . . . Zed.”

Right, no escape. He lifted one of his large hands and waved it at her. “Hey there, catin.”

Zed stood a little bit straighter and refrained from hitching up his jeans, even if they’d drooped just a little bit. He would not be embarrassed about this. He’d smile and brazen his way through it, which was most of politics, anyway. Jillian sighed, and rolled her eyes, a gesture he now expected from someone who’d come to think of him as her idiot older brother. Zed grinned and turned his attention to the lady at her side.

Man, she was pretty. Jillian was, of course, very attractive with her tall, slender frame and fair hair but this girl . . . Zed cleared his throat to cover the faint, interested chuffing noises he was making. She was tall and curvy, with riotous curls the color of chicory that fell far past her shoulders. His eye was caught by the generous cleavage displayed by her gauzy red sleeveless top, but only because it seemed to be embroidered with tiny llamas leaping between blue flowers. He’d never seen a girl wearing leaping llamas, but definitely wouldn’t mind seeing it again.

Her wide green eyes were the color of the tiny algae that bloomed on the swamp. He loved those little plants, for their purpose and the brilliant color they lent to the water, but he would never tell her that her eyes were the color of what most people considered pond scum. Most girls would find that sort of thing to be insulting.

She was gorgeous and he was staring.

Zed’s cheeks flushed red under his dark beard. His maman would be appalled to find him shirtless and ogling some perfectly nice girl’s . . . llamas. Oh, well, she was smiling, which was a good start.

“Mayor Zed Berend, this is Danica Teel,” she said. “She’s the consultant the League hired to investigate the issues surrounding the faille. Danica, this is Mayor Zed Berend, who believe it or not, is the person the good people of Mystic Bayou elected to be in charge of them.”

Danica, she of the bee-stung lips and delightfully rounded thighs, attempted to suppress her grin as she extended her hand to him, but failed utterly. “Nice to meet you, Mayor Berend.”

“You can just call me ‘Zed.’” He grabbed her hand with just a little too much enthusiasm and pumped it up and down. Her hand was warm and now that she’d stepped a little closer, he could smell a hint of ginger on her skin, and the faint green sweetness of clover. He tried to inhale deeply without being obvious that he was scenting her.

Despite the fact that he’d been shaking her hand far beyond what was socially appropriate, Miss Teel just smiled and gripped his hand right back, which he found . . . intriguing. Zed hadn’t met a lady with such a firm grip since Maddie Angrboda moved to town, but she was descended from a line of Norse stone giants and had an unfair advantage.

“Well, then you can call me, ‘Dani,’” she told him. “I look forward to working with you.”

“Not nearly as much as I look forward to working with you,” he said, finally releasing her hand.

Jillian cleared her throat as she glanced at the bent copper tub and the slats Zed had pulled loose while trying to free it. “Um, Zed, do I even want to ask what happened to your shirt?”

Zed shook his head. “Not really.”

“Dani here was hoping to move in today, but I can see that there’s still an issue with the shower,” she said, chewing her bottom lip.

“I tried, Jillian, but I wasn’t expecting you for another two days. And there was the small matter of my town to run, while you and your League buddies plan your invasion,” Zed noted.

Jillian very subtly scratched her nose with her middle finger. Zed was teasing her, of course. The citizens of Mystic Bayou needed the League’s resources as much as the League needed information from Mystic Bayou’s citizens. They’d been too long without a proper healer. Hell, they’d never had a dentist who could treat all of the different teeth amongst the Bayou’s population. Half of parish school’s teachers were well past retirement age and leaning towards ‘older than dirt,’ but stayed on because there were no trained educators to replace them. There wasn’t enough in the parish accounts to cover the badly needed repaving, because thanks to the otherworldly mojo bouncing around the bayou, the roads kept moving around like the freaking staircases in Harry Potter and it was damn near impossible to estimate how much asphalt would be needed. And then there was the small matter of the rift de-stabilizing and spreading its chaotic energy amongst the Bayou residents and changing their very genetic make-up.

But Dani didn’t know he was teasing and she frowned slightly at Zed’s mention of an invasion.

“Not that I mind. Sometimes a little invasion can be good. Like the Beatles or how all of the sudden all actors seem to be Australian,” he said.

Jillian lifted a brow. “Um, sweetie, did the tub hit you in the head?

“Not that I can remember.”

“Dani, it’s not a problem for you to stay with me and Bael for a few days until the shower’s fixed and the house is livable,” Jillian protested.

Dani shook her head. “Oh, I couldn’t possibly. I wouldn’t want to impose. Besides, I’ve stayed in much rougher places than this. A couple of days of sponge baths won’t do me any harm.”

Zed found his mouth suddenly going dry at the thought of the beautiful Miss Teel and sponge baths.

“Besides the house is amazing. I love it already. And compared to my last accommodations in Mongolia? It’s a luxury suite,” Dani said.

Zed felt a sudden rush of affection for the newcomer. Anyone who could appreciate the otherworldly charms of the maison de fous, without even going inside yet, was a person worth knowing.

Jillian sighed. “You could always stay with us for a night or two.”

“I make it a policy not to draw the attention of law enforcement whenever possible,” said Dani. “That includes sharing a breakfast nook with your sheriff. Besides, this way, I can settle in, be able to concentrate. And that means getting to work that much faster.”

“All right, but if you need anything, call and I will come running. Even if it’s just clean towels.”

Dani held up her fingers in what looked like a Girl Scout salute. “I promise I will.”

“In the meantime, I can take you back to town to get the rest of your things,” Zed offered.

Jillian jabbed a finger towards his chest. “Dani does not need the full Near-Death-Experience-on-the-Back-of-Zed’s-Harley just yet. Besides, don’t you think maybe you should concentrate on fixing the shower?”

“That’s your Springer Soft Tail Classic out front?” Dani asked, delighted.

Jillian muttered, “The one with the extremely unsubtle claw marks painted down the body?”

Zed’s grin ratcheted up even further. “Sure is. You know bikes?”

“Only because a boyfriend in college rode one. He taught me how to drive because I threatened not to give him…”

Zed’s eyebrows rose.

Dani didn’t look remotely embarrassed. She just grinned cheekily and added, “Handshakes anymore. Very firm, loving handshakes.”

Zed smirked at her. “Mmmhmm.”

“Nice save,” Jillian added.

Unabashed, Dani gestured to her shoulder bag. “Besides, there’s no need to run back into town.”

“That’s all you brought?” Zed asked, side-eying her bag.

She jiggled the bag lightly. “Everything I have in the world.”

Zed shuddered. He wasn’t a dragon when it came to hording stuff, but he enjoyed his cave and its creature comforts. He had no desire to live anywhere else. He couldn’t imagine a nomadic life where he could carry everything he owned around in a backpack.

Dani laughed, a rich, bright sound, like thrumming a harp. “I’m just kidding. I have equipment and clothes coming in a few days. It’s being shipped. I like to travel light, but I’m not pathological about it.”

Zed snorted. “Yeah, I had that coming.”

Dani grinned at him, and he went all warm and gooey inside, like he’d just drunk a mug of hot apple cider. He shook his head, as if wiggling his brain back into place. Maybe he did get a concussion from the tub.

Jillian patted his arm, as if she could sense his distraction. “Okay, it’s so hot out I can feel the sweat between my toes, which is not a good look. Zed, how about you focus on fixing the shower and I’ll show Dani around.”

Zed found that he didn’t want to agree. He wanted to follow them through the strange fairy tale house and see Dani’s face as she saw all of the charming little quirks, the trees lit by spirit bottles, the haint-blue porch crowded with hanging baskets of geraniums, the odd little tower where Miss Lottie had held her rituals. And the bed that swung from the ceiling on ropes made from spider-shifter silk, that was always a point of interest.

But instead, he chose not to behave like a lovesick preteen girl, looked at the mess he’d made of the shower and realized he was going to have to visit the hardware store. In his effort to try to catch the tub, he’d stepped on several of his pipes and bent them beyond repair. Sure, he had the strength to force them back into shape, but they’d never thread together properly and run water without serious leaks.

“Hey, bebelle! I’m gonna have to run into town!” he yelled through the kitchen door, into the house.

“Put on a shirt!” Jillian shouted back from upstairs. “Otherwise, Bael will arrest you for public indecency!”

Zed called back. “Not likely! He’s been in a much better mood since you moved in! He’s only a grumpy bastard every other day!”

Zed pulled his wet shirt over his head, Jillian’s bell-like giggle ringing through the open door. The shirt clung to him like an overprotective mother, but thanks to the summer heat and the breeze from riding his motorcycle, the material had almost dried by the time he reached the town square. His bike rolled smoothly down Main Street and its collection of shops. The town square centered on a wooden gazebo and a large fountain, carved by dwarvish craftsmen, featuring nearly every creature included in the town’s population, all sheltered by a dragon’s unfurled wings. The Boones weren’t exactly subtle about their “patronage” of the town.

The Boones owned almost everything: the bank, the boat dealership, the grocery, the apothecary shop, the beauty salon, the hardware store, the book shop and, of course, the pie shop marked with “Bathtilda’s Pie Shop, Home of the World’s Best Chocolate Rhubarb Pie.” Each building was freshly painted and decorated with baskets overflowing with bright red geraniums. It was practically the town’s official flower, what with its mosquito repellent scent.

Resisting the muscle memory that demanded he pull the bike into its usual parking spot in front of the parish hall, he parked in front of Boone’s Hardware and Dry Goods. He picked at his damp shirt and sauntered into the store, with its strange collection of tools, hardware, pixie traps, and bottles of toadstool remover. Waving to Burton Boone, a stooped, ancient dragon-shifter with mutton-chop sideburns meant to hide his abundance of ear hair, Zed searched the plumbing section to replace the supplies he’d damaged. He crouched in front of a display of couplers, trying to remember the size he needed.

“I thought you’d already bought the supplies to fix Miss Lottie’s shower,” Bael said.

Zed jumped slightly and glared up at his closest friend in the world, who happened to be leaning against a rack of wrenches, his arms crossed over his tan uniform shirt. Zed prided himself on his senses, his ability to keep track of any predators that might try to sneak up on him. But dragons had almost no natural scent, and they moved as quietly as death. “Couillon! You know I hate it when you do that.”

“Watch your language in my shop, Mayor Berend!” Burton yelled from the front of the shop.

Bael scoffed at him. “You hate that I’m able to do that.”

“That, too,” Zed admitted, standing from his crouch. “I thought you were writing tickets out by the school this morning.”

“Eh, I caught Emily McAinsley speeding on her way to the yarn store again and we were both so traumatized by our last experience that I decided to call it a day.”

Zed gave a sage nod. “Probably for the best.”

“So what happened to the pipes you bought already? You step on ‘em and turn them into U’s?” Bael grinned.

Zed winced, scratching the back of his neck.

“I was just kidding!” Bael cried. “What did you do?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Did you break anything that was meant to hold up the house, that’s all I want to know. If it collapses, I’ll have to fill out a shit-ton of paperwork . . . Wait.” Bael stepped closer, sniffing lightly. “You smell like Jillian. Did she drop by the house?”

“Bael, you’re my best friend, but please don’t smell me. We’ve talked about this.”

Bael shrugged. “When you have a mate, you’ll understand.”

“I doubt it. A lot,” Zed told him. “But yeah, she drove that new League consultant by the house to show her around.”

“The dark-haired one? Dani? With the, uh…?” Bael paused to find the right word.

“Really nice llamas?” Zed suggested.

Bael nodded emphatically. “That’s the one.”

Zed’s dark brows rose and Bael jerked his shoulders. “I’m happily mated, not blind.”

“She is a looker, that’s for sure,” Zed responded. “And she and Jillian seemed to be getting on pretty well, which means she could be around a lot, so you should try to be a bit more blind to her llamas.”

“Thanks, but I am also not stupid.”

Zed carried his supplies to the counter, where he paid cash for them. Burton had not extended credit in the two hundred years he’d been in business. Zed noted that Burton did not so much as nod at his distant cousin in acknowledgement. Bael had been on the outs with most of his family since his relationship with Jillian had gone public. Bael was already considered drole among his family anyway, to the point that Bael was in danger of being disinherited by his grandfather, and being cut off from his portion of the family’s treasure horde. Once it got around that Bael was mated to a woman who was human? It didn’t even matter that Jillian had been transformed into a phoenix, after living so close to the rift’s energy. As far as the Boones were concerned, once human, always human, and Jillian was not worthy of carrying their precious dragon babies or the family gold. Bael was cast out and officially disowned.

Of course, for Bael that just meant he was left his own football-field-sized horde, as opposed to being Bill Gates-rich. But still, it was a big deal to dragons.

Zed watched Bael slide his aviator sunglasses on, as if being cold-shouldered by his own family didn’t gnaw at him. Burton was known to be a grade-A asshole when a beer hit him wrong, and had been personally driven home by Bael on multiple occasions instead of being charged with drunk driving. And yet, here he was, ignoring his cousin like Bael was somehow less of a dragon for falling in love with someone who was smarter and nicer than the awful scaled harridan that had been making Burton’s home life miserable for more than a century.

“Here’s your change, Mr. Mayor. Now please take that person out of my store,” Burton drawled, without looking at Bael.

Zed shoved his change in his pocket. “You’re an asshole, Burton. I’ve always thought so.”

Burton’s mouth fell open as Zed snatched his bag off the counter. Bael followed at a sedate pace as Zed stomped out of the shop.

“That wasn’t necessary,” Bael told him. “I appreciate it, but being called an asshole isn’t gonna change Burton. Also, you probably just lost his vote.”

“Well, it chaps my furry ass to see your family treating you that way when you’re the best of the lot. If they want to know real family shame, they should come meet some of my cousins.”

The corner of Bael’s mouth lifted, which was practically gushing since he wasn’t one for bro hugs.

Zed asked, “What were we talking about again?”

“Your fascination with the girl with nice llamas.”

“I wouldn’t say ‘fascinated.’ I just want to know who’s going to be living in one of fair town’s beloved landmarks.”

“Mmmhmm,” Bael murmured.

“What is it exactly that she does for the League?” Zed asked.

“I know it has to do with the rift, but not much else. Jillian said it was really complicated and I tried not to be offended that she didn’t think I was smart enough to understand it.”

“It’s probably not so much a question of smarts, as that time she was trying to explain ‘ethnomusicology’ to you at dinner and you fell asleep with your face in your pasta.”

Bael cried, “That happened once!”

“You snored. Loudly.”

“Once!”

Zed patted his friend’s shoulder. “That’s the sort of thing a girl remembers.”

2

DANI

Dani liked the look of the maison de fous very much. Most of thewaterfront houses she’d passed had look like cracker boxes on stilts, all faded paint and slowly disintegrating wood. The layers of faded blue-gray stories were accented with eaves dripping with rust runoff. Each story had its own wraparound porch, protected by the scent of hanging geraniums. The top floor offered a cupola, which she imagined gave the inhabitant an amazing treetop view of the bayou. A dock extended from under the “ground floor” to the water, and some thoughtful soul and had set out a ring of comfortable looking, mismatched chairs, so one might enjoy the sunsets.

Dr. Jillian Ramsay, her liaison with the League, was leading her on a room-by-room tour of the house. As its last inhabitant, Jillian was clearly fond of each little nook and cranny. She pointed out the small animals carved from peach wood standing guard on the window sills, meant to protect the house from negative energy. She mentioned how meticulously Miss Lottie had cared for her furniture. And when they reached the bedroom that was to be Dani’s, Jillian just blushed and gestured for Dani to walk in.

It was a beautiful room, with high cathedral ceilings, white-washed walls and a huge bay window looking out on the trees. And the bed was . . . hanging from the ceiling?

Dani tilted her head as she examined the thick white silk ropes keeping the bed suspended from the high ceiling. “Hmm.”

Jillian’s cheeks were still tinged quite pink, but she found voice enough to say, “Actually, it’s a few years old. Theresa Anastas helped spin the silk for the ropes herself.”

“On a spinning wheel?”

Jillian shook her head. “Theresa is an arachnaed, a spider-shifter from Greece. She made the silk herself. She was very fond of Miss Lottie.”

Dani grinned broadly. She’d only met a handful of locals, but she liked this strange town full of nightmares and monsters. It wasn’t the smallest town she’d had ever stayed in, but it was close. Still, she felt safe here, despite the heat and humidity and the abundant wildlife that could do her serious harm. She’d spent so much time being different from everybody else. It hadn’t exactly filled her with angst. She was proud of her talent and the life she’d built with it. But it was nice to be in a place where she didn’t stand out. In Mystic Bayou, everybody was different, so no one was.

It had been particularly nice to meet the Mayor, Zed Berend, he of the god-like build and aversion to shirts. At first, Dani thought she was being set-up in some sort of awkward “welcome to the swamp” stripper prank, walking around the house to find a shirtless, wet man, shaking out his long dark locks in the breeze. But the show stopped at the shirt removal, not that it wasn’t enough to enjoy on its own. Because Zed had all of the muscles. She tried to be a better, more evolved person than someone who was attracted to a man because of his body, but seriously, all of the muscles.

And beyond the body, the man had a face forged by a divine hand—long, straight nose, ambitiously high cheekbones, and . . . probably a full mouth? It was kind of hard to tell under the thick dark beard. Dani normally preferred a clean-shaven face, after a boyfriend with a bizarre commitment to scruff had left her with rampaging beard rash on her thighs. But Zed clearly took care of his beard, probably with those artisan beard oils that always seemed to be on sale on Etsy. It looked really soft. She’d been tempted to reach out and touch it, but she figured that was a violation of personal space . . . and probably seven different kinds of etiquette here in Mystic Bayou.

His fog-over-ice gray eyes might have come across as hostile, if they weren’t so damn warm. They crinkled when he laughed, when he talked. If hints hadn’t been so broad about his bear shifter status, Dani might have guessed that he was one of those sexy woodsmen from a fairy tale. Or a sexy genie. Or a sexy huntsman. Basically any fairy tale stock character that required advanced upper body strength.

But she wasn’t here to ogle supernaturally attractive men. She was here to do a job. And she was being super-rude to Jillian by ignoring her tour.

“So why do they call it ‘maison de fous?’”

Jillian smiled at her. “It’s a long story. Do you want to hear it over a cup of tea? I think I left some chamomile in the kitchen cabinet.”

“I’d love a cup, even with this heat. I haven’t gotten used to the iced tea thing, yet,” Dani said.

Jillian gave her a sympathetic look. “Did you get confused when they offered you ‘sweet or unsweet?’”

“Yes. What in the hell is ‘unsweet?’ I’ve traveled around the world twice and I’ve never heard of it. And when I said so, the waitress at the truck stop in Houma gave me water.”

“You’ve mostly traveled outside of the American South, huh?” Jillian asked as Dani followed her down the rickety wooden steps to the tiny dollhouse kitchen, with its ancient refrigerator.

“I was born in Wisconsin, spent some of my toddler years in Arizona, and then I lost count of the places my dad decided we needed to visit. My passport couldn’t hold any more stamps by the time I was eight.”

“That sounds nomadic,” Jillian said as she pulled a kettle down from a hook over the sink. Dani shrugged, sitting at the tiny breakfast table. “Well, for the record, they’re just asking if you want a plain glass of iced—unsweet. Some people prefer to sweeten it at their tables with the tiny colored packet of their choice. Others want the real deal—basically, rock candy added into boiling hot tea so the sugar dissolves evenly through the drink. I do not recommend trying it without a half-and-half mix of sweet and unsweet on the first try. Otherwise your dental enamel could spontaneously dissolve.”

“That sounds really complicated. I think I’ll just stick with Diet Coke.”

Jillian filled the kettle. “Probably for the best. Anyway, the house has been called maisonde fous, the Fool’s House, since it was constructed more than a century ago. A sea captain named Worthen built it for a water sprite he’d fallen madly in love with. He retired from his navy commission and followed her into the bayou. He built the house to show her how much he wanted a life with her, to show her the sort of future he could give her. But she was just not that into him, rejected him pretty much at every turn, and he was so distracted by the constant refrains of ‘let’s just be friends’ that he didn’t really pay attention to what he was doing when he was building, or that his house in no way resembled anything that his neighbors lived in.”

“Are all sea sprites so freaking mean?” Dani asked.

Jillian set the kettle on the stove and pulled two mugs from the cupboard. One that said, “Loveland, Ohio—Home of the Loveland Frog,” and another that said, “Knitters grab life by the balls” in hot pink script over two round skeins of pink yarn.

Jillian spotted Dani staring at them and said, “They were a gift, which I should probably take home with me, before Mel’s feelings get hurt. I forgot them in the move. Bael already thinks I’m a mug hoarder, but he’s one to talk. But yeah, in my experience, they’re kind of the bitches of the sea. River nymphs, mermaids, rusalki, all much nicer.”

Dani threw her head back and laughed. “You know how weird it is, to cite that experience and be able to prove it’s not bullshit, right?”

Jillian pursed her lips. “I’m aware.”

“I’m assuming that the sea sprite never saw the error of her ways and came swimming back to the good captain?”

“Nope, she continued back-stroking through the swamp, breaking hearts left and right. Worthen met a local lady, a healer, who thought he was everything that was amazing. She married him, kept him fat and happy and gave him six children.Lottie was the last of their descendants, and the local healer, a very popular woman among her neighbors. Despite the house being so old, they couldn’t bear to just let it fall down, so the residents of Mystic Bayou do little repairs whenever they can. And they rent it out to drole like ourselves, whenever the need strikes.”

“Drole?” Dani repeated the strange word, letting it roll over her tongue.

“A term you better get used to. It’s sort of a blanket word that applies to anything funny, strange or ‘other.’ Anyone who didn’t grow up here, basically. It’s not an insult. I’ve been accepted, thanks to Bael, and I’m still drole.”

“Eh, I’ve been traveling around long enough that I’m sort of used to being the outsider,” Dani said. “Doesn’t bother me. So, I’m assuming your assignment here in Mystic Bayou is going to be long-term?”

“Most likely permanent, considering the resources the League is investing here,” Jillian said.

“Isn’t that sort of unusual for the League?”

The kettle whistled and Jillian rose to grab it from the burner. “Incredibly. But, I’m fortunate in that I impressed the right people at the right time. It wasn’t that difficult, really, considering I’d been brought in at the last minute to replace a unicorn fondler.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

Jillian waved a free hand dismissively. “It’s a long story, better told over tequila. Out of Zed’s earshot. How long have you worked for the League?”

“Off and on, freelance, for three years. Mostly traveling around, recording energy anomalies and making ‘adjustments’ where it’s appropriate.”

“I will admit, I envy you that, just a little bit,” sighed Jillian. “I was on my way to my very first international assignment in Chile when I got re-assigned here at the last minute. I mean, I love my life here, but I was looking forward to seeing a bit of the world, you know?” Jillian poured hot water over the tea bags in her colorful mugs. “So, if you’ve been traveling, I’m assuming you’re not familiar with the political nightmare-scape that is the League’s office in DC?”

Dani snickered. She had intentionally written her contracts so she never had to visit the DC offices. Oh, sure, on paper, the International League for Interspecies Cooperation was a benevolent collective that was founded centuries before by a particularly open-minded group of shifters and humans, striving to promote understanding and peace between all creatures. It was a lovely party line.