Page 47 of Buckle Up, Buttercup

Rygold rises and eyes her, then me. “What can I do you for, Alkazar? Bit late to be here, ain’t it?”

I point at the little one. “Petra here seems to think we’re siblings, and I was hoping you could help me verify.”

Rygold barks out a ragged laugh. “For real? Surprise relation? Don’t see that every day.”

Petra sighs and throws the paper back onto his desk. “Hadrian doesn’t believe me. He’s kerfluffled about it, but he’ll come to terms with it. Dad said he would. Also, what happened to your face?” She points at the sheriff’s half-horn and ripped lip.

I resist the urge to start shouting at…someone. It won’t do any good. I’m not close with my parents, but I never thought they’d casually drop a sibling on my doorstep. I’m comm’ing them the moment I get home.

“Can you help?” I’m practically begging.

Rygold nods and looks at Petra. “Hand me a piece of your hair please.”

Petra reaches up and yanks out a strand, then lays it in his outstretched hand.

He looks at me, and I do the same.

Rygold stalks toward the back of his office and shuffles around in a cabinet, withdrawing a beaker and a vial of purple liquid. Returning to us, he sets the beaker on the desk and drops both hairs into it.

“Now, if you’re related, when I put this purple liquid in, it’ll turn black. If you’re distantly related, it’ll go pale blue. And if you’re unrelated, it’ll stay the same color.”

My mouth is as dry as the gulch’s wheat fields as Rygold dumps purple liquid over the hair. Almost immediately, black swirls through the shade. In moments, the entirety of the beaker is filled with obsidian liquid.

Rygold chuckles. “Ain’t never seen it turn quite that fast.” He looks between us, his smile crooked because of the huge scar running down the left side of his face. “Guess y’all are family.” He reaches into his desk and withdraws a blue-banded comm watch. Handing it to her, he wiggles his brows. “Young lady, you know how this works? You can make calls within Pine Gulch but not outside of it. Need a comm disk to call other havens.”

Petra hops up and down as she fastens the watch around her thin wrist. “Yes! I have a brother! That is the best thing in the entire world. I’m so excited, Hadrian. I want you to show me everything about the haven system. Dad’s been teaching me about how time moves faster inside havens, and how thralls are drawn to the protective wards…which is so dang creepy. I’ve never seen one of those in real life but⁠—”

I tune her out as I stare at the sheriff. He stares right back.

What in the actual shit am I gonna do now?

Bluebell

I’m just finishing my evening meeting with the Mead Cute organizing committee when my comm watch pings, Hadrian’s name hovering above the band. Merit and Bryony look at my watch with obvious interest, then Lemon and Oz shoot me matching satisfied looks as I rise from the table. Heading for the door to get some privacy, I breathe a sigh of relief that the porch is empty. Thank gods most monsters are still terrified of the Keeper’s house and won’t come inside the property. It’s just Lemon who insists we meet here, and the house loves her, so she allows the rest of us in.

Something’s happening there, I’m just not entirely sure what, and I can’t wait to find out.

“Hey.” I can barely hold back a huge smile when I answer him.

“Hey, Blue,” Hadrian says softly. “You done yet?”

“Yeah.” I slide a hand into my back pocket. “Just finished.”

“Listen, baby, I’m out at the ranch working on some things. Can you come hang? It’s late, and I want to see you. I’ve got some news.”

Heat radiates through me, and I hop in place, the smile fully overtaking me. “Yeah,” I agree, heading for my truck. “I’ll come to you now.”

“I like the way that sounds,” he says, his voice low and gravelly. “I need you, little witch. It’s been a day.”

Oh boy, I bet I can help with that…

“Loving the new nickname,” I admit as I haul my truck door open and slip inside.

Hadrian laughs. “I might try out a few more to see what you like best, though.”

I’ve never driven so fast or been so thankful that Sheriff Rygold doesn’t hang around in speed traps. By the time I get to Hadrian’s long rocky driveway, I’m practically slinging gravel as I barrel toward the house. Reminding myself to have at least a little bit of chill, I slow down. This is Hadrian; I don’t have to make this weird.

I’m still not ready when I pull into the driveway and he walks around the side of the house shirtless, jeans slung low on his hips and a bottle of beer in one hand. His wings are half flared at his back, tail lashing from side to side. He looks so…expectant.