Chapter Two

Hemlock

We are not shifters. Not precisely, but we do have two forms. And in many other ways, we are similar to those who become wolves or cats or bears. Like the hierarchies within our families or "legions" as some prefer to call themselves. Shifters have alphas, we have commanders, and they have a tendency to take themselves very seriously.

Which was why we'd moved all around the country to make a new life for ourselves when we reached adulthood. Our fathers were not pleased, to put it mildly, but we didn't ask permission. We told ourselves that they would get over it, someday, and went about having adventures until we got so homesick we landed right back where we started. We became blacksmiths and settled in to be part of the legion again.

But the similarity between our groups that was upmost in Grendel's and my minds was the yearning for a mate. While many people thought we were evil or undeserving of happiness, Fate did not entirely abandon us. At least some among us could hope for a fated mate—and the others might find some companion to walk through life with.

We do not smell like sulfur or haunt people—more urban legends. Beyond a little mischief, all the stories are lies. In fact, a good-natured prank led to how we chose our current profession. Horses, in more of those urban legends, hated demons, but not in our case.

Or any case that I knew of.

Grendel and I had been friends for so long it just made sense to go into business together, and to share a house. We enjoyed the same things—he loved to cook and I loved to eat—and we got along well. Neither of us wanted to be legion hierarchy; there were plenty of others who did.

If we could just find a mate, one who would love us both, life would be pretty perfect.