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Whatever Bruce was hiding, it was far more serious than a hoarding habit or a house full of feral cats. Even worse, it was supernatural.
“Listen, Bruce. I’m somewhat new to Fairhaven, and I realize there’s still a lot to learn about this town.” Truth be told, if I’d known about the powerful crossroads in Wild Acres and the bevy of supernaturals, I wouldn’t have made the choice to settle here. The Castle was a giant money pit, though, and unless I wanted to start over again with absolutely nothing, I was resigned to my new life here.
“More than you know,” Bruce said, turning off the burner. “Your best course of action is to leave this house and never return. Tell your boss I’m alive and forget the whole thing.”
I sighed. “See, I can’t do that. The lengths you’ve gone to conceal whatever’s here. . . The high-grade magic. I’m suspicious that it’s the kind of thing that could hurt the innocent people of Fairhaven.” He could have a Frankenstein-style lab in the basement for all I knew, one that produced monsters that might one day prey on the local population. Maybe that’s how he injured himself.
“And you’re what?” Bruce asked. “Some kind of protector? Are you a gargoyle?”
The fact that he didn’t ask in a snarky way gave me pause.
“Do I look like a gargoyle to you?” I was mildly offended. Gargoyles were notoriously unattractive.
“You might be. You look young. Maybe you haven’t learned to fully transform yet.”
I folded my arms. “I’m not a gargoyle.”
“Then what are you?”
“Someone who feels a sense of responsibility to protect those who can’t protect themselves. I blame my grandfather.” Pops wouldn’t let me pass a frog on the road without helping it to the grass before a car came along and flattened it. For a military veteran, he had a soft heart.
“That type of instinct never comes from the outside in,” Bruce said. “Always the inside out. Believe me, I know.”
I eyed him closely. “You’re protecting something, or someone.” I got the distinct impression that Bruce wasn’t a hermit by choice. He was fulfilling some sort of obligation. “Is that what the wards are for? Extra protection? Wait. Areyoua gargoyle?”
My incessant curiosity seemed to anger him. “Your visit is over, Miss Clay. It was a mistake to let you in.”
I could’ve walked away, shown Fatima the proof of life, and gone on with my life—if I were a different sort of person.
It wasn’t easy being me.
“Okay, so you’re not a gargoyle, but you’re obviously keeping something or someone safe in this house. If you have that protective instinct, too, then you must understand why I’m interested.”
Bruce’s nostrils flared. “This house hasn’t caused trouble for the people of Fairhaven in all the years it’s been here. They’re not interested in hurting anyone.”
Alarm bells sounded. “They?”
Bruce seemed to realize his mistake. “Out. Now.” He grabbed my arm and pushed me toward the back door.
My instincts kicked in, and I yanked open the door and slammed it into his face. Blood dripped from his nose. He was too stunned to react. I used his moment of hesitation against him. I palmed his forehead and thrust him backward until his lower back hit the counter.
“I’m going to know a lot more in a second unless you volunteer the information.”
“I told you,” he croaked. “I can’t, even if I want to.”
His face scrunched in anguish as I pressed my way into his mind. “Last chance,” I warned.
“Please. You don’t understand,” he whispered.
“Which is exactly why I’m doing this.” I slipped inside. His mind was a jumbled mess. There were no complete thoughts, only snippets of terrifying visions that seemed unrelated to each other, like pieces from multiple jigsaw puzzles mixed together. Bright colors flashed; sharp pain pierced my skull. I hadn’t encountered anything like this before. I pushed past the pain and tried to focus on one piece at a time to garner more information. Maybe identify related pieces and group them together. I was so focused on accessing the nightmares inside his head that I failed to notice what was happening to the outside until I felt the warmth of his skin. I jerked my hand away when the contact grew too painful. My fingertips were steaming. Unfortunately, so was Bruce’s face.
“Mr. Huang?”
His body stiffened. I jumped aside as he staggered forward. He fell to the ground, thrashing. He started to shift.
Then he stopped.
I saw the swish of a long, narrow tail, then his legs returned. I saw red and gold wings, then human shoulder blades. His body seemed stuck, unable to fully commit to his human form or his supernatural one.
