Chapter Five

One of the Locryn’s favorite things about Appleton was its predictability. For example, Saturday mornings were always spent at the Farmer and Crafts market, where locals showcased seasonal fruit and vegetables alongside handmade items such as wood crafts, glass blowing, intricate tapestries, cross stitch, and other goods Locryn couldn’t imagine making in a million years. Locryn could rely on the market the same way he knew every Monday morning, Betty from the haberdashery would be on his doorstep before opening, no matter how early Locryn got there.

It was the same throughout the week. Every day, Monday to Friday, Locryn had regular customers who came in for their weekly “do” sharing gossip with him and the others waiting for their turn in the chair. Evenings, if Locryn wanted company, he knew he was welcome to pop into one of the three breweries in town. While the crowds were mostly tourists, everyone in town knew that if they wanted a quiet drink, then Parkers was the place to go. If anyone wanted to see what the tourists were up to, they went to Sullivans or Chesters.

Foodwise, most people had their orders in at the butcher for Monday morning, because it was a town secret that Frankie got his stock in over the weekend, so the meat was freshest when the shop opened Monday. Likewise most of the first dates in Appleton among the young folks were milkshakes and hotdogs at The Happy Chappy. The place even had a “couples” order for all potential dating partners, to help make ordering easier.

If a man got serious about his beau, then he made a proper reservation at the Chalet restaurant attached to the hotel on the outskirts of town. Apparently doing that was akin to a declaration of marriage, or so Locryn found out when Mabel came in one week not long after he’d moved to town, all in a flutter wanting a “fancy do” because Cheryl’s young man had made a reservation there. Sure enough, by the date’s end, Cheryl was wearing a ring she proudly displayed when she came in to book Locryn for her wedding day.

Living among humans wasn’t always idyllic. Locryn lived most of the time under a glamor, as he quickly learned when he arrived on earth, many moons before his arrival in Appleton, that his features were considered too pretty to be real and were considered a threat to some. There were times when Locryn felt his glamored wings flutter with agitation when he spotted fights, usually among out-of-towners. Knowing he could stop them, render the fighters senseless with a casual flick of his fingers, and yet having to stop himself and let the capable sheriff and his team handle it… it was difficult.

Likewise, his preference for male partners rather than those of the opposite sex, was acceptable on the Fae realm, although considered annoying because it meant no children were possible from the union. But that same attraction was considered a sin and even illegal in many places for years when Locryn first arrived on earth. By the time Locryn found his way to Appleton though, he made it clear, quietly and in his understated way, that he wasn’t about to be swayed no matter how bright the smile or pretty the hair worn by the single ladies in town.

He should have realized that dissuading a few of the local females’ offers for coffee was akin to taking out a full page advertisement in the local paper. Locryn found that out when Tatty bounced in for her appointment one morning, saying, “So you’re one of those gay fellas, I take it. I made out a list of the single men in town for you, although the pickings are slim here, I can tell you. What the heck is that radar thingy your sort talk about all the time? How does that help you get a man of your own? Perhaps I should buy one.”

After getting over his shock and having a chuckle at Tatty’s question – she was a woman of indeterminate age who had already buried three husbands – Locryn explained that yes, he was gay, and no, gaydar wasn’t something someone could buy.

“That’s a damn shame,” she’d said, getting settled in the chair. “What do you think about some purple stripes in my hair this week? I’m calling dibs on that new man at the post office.”

And that was that. The town saw Locryn as a friendly, definitely handsome, but sensible hairdresser. He paid his taxes and never so much as jaywalked. The trims on his house were painted every two years, his garden was always weed free, and he paid a local teenager to keep his lawns under control. Those were the little things important to Appleton residents and Locryn enjoyed it all.

But that business with his father claiming he was being disowned was setting off Locryn’s spidey senses. It was out of character – the act of a desperate man - and while Locryn couldn’t think of any reason that would make his father desperate, he also knew desperate people were unpredictable.

He still made all his appointments, gently laughing, teasing, and ensuring his clients felt special, because they were. But as he cut and curled, colored, and washed, there was a tingle on the back of his neck. Something was coming, and Locryn wasn’t stupid. He knew whatever was after him would have his father’s name all over it.

Which was why, when there was a loud knock on his shop door, not long after he’d closed the Friday after his visit to the Fae realm, Locryn didn’t even look up from the books he was finishing for the week. “It’s open,” he yelled, tapping at his calculator before jotting down the total in the right column. He heard the door open and someone stepped in. “If it’s funny business you’re after, then close the door and ensure the blinds are drawn. No point in giving the locals out for their evening meal a free show.”

“What the fuck? You’re the Fae they’re hunting? Oh, double fuck, no.”

The voice was deep, and gruff, yet it had a lilt to it that sent a shock through all of Locryn’s senses. He heard the door slam shut as he looked up, but no one was there.

What the hell…? Walking around the counter, Locryn went and stood on the doormat where one would assume someone coming into the hair salon would be. His magic was going haywire, lighting up Locryn’s insides, sparking as though seeking something. Instinct had Locryn looking at the mark on his wrist. Normally it was hidden from human eyes, but in that moment, with his magic flaring, it was lit up a bright orange like a brand on his skin, although it didn’t burn.

Did my mate just walk into the shop and then walk out again? Quickly opening the door, Locryn looked both ways down the street. It was fairly crowded as Locryn’s shop was in the heart of the CBD and there were a lot of locals wandering around either on their way home, or meeting friends and making their evening plans.

“Hey, Tommy,” he called out, seeing the bookshop owner two doors down sweeping his steps. “Did someone just leave my shop? I was out the back, thought I heard the door, but by the time I got to the front again, no one was there.”

“Oh, you just missed him then.” Tommy rested his elbow on his broom. “It was that new fella, the one who runs the tattoo shop set up across the way. Zac, I think his name is. Yes, Zac Byron’s his name.” Tommy looked around and then pointed down the street. “He went that way, but I’m sure whatever it is can wait until Monday.”

“I’m sure you’re right, Tommy, thanks. Have a great weekend.” Locryn waved and went back into his shop, closing the door softly behind him. “Zac Byron. What do we know about Zac Byron?” He tapped the mark on his wrist. “Besides the obvious. That man is not human, not if he’s my mate and already knows what I am. Hmm.”

Grabbing his bag, collecting the cash from his register and his keys, Locryn went through the motions of locking up, his mind still on his mystery visitor. All Fae of a certain age got a mating mark somewhere on their body – a symbol indicating how many mates they would have and what species that person might be. All Locryn remembered when his appeared was his father’s white face and his admonishment to cover it up.

But I never found out what species that mark indicated. At the time, it hadn’t been important. Like any paranormal type, Fae knew the chances of finding a Fated Mate, especially if the marks they were blessed with didn’t refer to another Fae, were really slim. Locryn did think about it more often when he moved to earth, but even then, despite what he’d told his father, his idea of ‘waiting for my mate’ was basically a useful way of staying free from any entanglements. It’s not like he expected his mate to knock on his salon door.

And now, he not only knocked, but he also walked in and was so horrified, he turned around and walked right back out again. Who would be that upset to have a Fae as a mate? Locryn snorted quietly as he walked, head down, following the route to his house automatically.

A lot of species had issues with Fae in general, purely and simply because Fae were considered so stuck up there was no way of shifting the broom handles out of their asses. Locryn had come across paranormals with that idea before, many times. Usually, it was something that people were prepared to forget after having a few drinks, which Locryn was happy to pay for. Locryn considered he’d done his good deed for the day if he could convince a friendly wolf shifter, vampire, or other paranormal see that at least one Fae could be friendly.

Did he even know we were mates? Or did he leave because of something else? What did he mean when he said, “the Fae they’re hunting?” Did my dad send my mate to my doorstep? If that was the case then Locryn would actually have something to thank his father for, if his mate came back to him… and that was always debatable.

Most locals used cars to get to and from the suburbs, but Locryn liked to walk. His path took him along the beach front, and he often stopped for fresh fish and wedges from the food cart to enjoy as his evening meal, but Locryn wasn’t even thinking about dinner. He was thinking about the mysterious Zac Byron and what he might be.

Long black hair – that could be any species. Locryn discounted the man as being a shifter, even though they commonly wore their hair long. For one thing his mating indicator would show a paw print or the silhouette of an animal if his mate was anyone who shared their spirit with an animal half. It’s not as though anyone needed paranormal abilities to grow their hair long.

Once past the beach, Locryn’s path took him up a hill. His house was towards the top, but Locryn barely noticed the strain that put on his calf muscles. His mind was working overtime. He knew, thanks to the ladies who got their hair done, that Zac was a big man. Tatty had made some comment about him being able to bench press a truck, which was apparently impressive.

So Locryn could add ‘big’ to his list of known attributes, but that wasn’t helpful either. Lots of shifters, vampires, magic users, and even ancient gods had muscular builds. Locryn was tall but he had a slender build. He didn’t know any bulked out Fae. And I already know my mate isn’t a Fae.

It was the tattoos that were stumping Locryn. Because of the nature of who they were, most paranormals couldn’t have tattoos. Shifters lost theirs every time they shifted, and likewise, any other paranormal usually went through the same thing. Just as paranormals rarely had any scars remaining if they suffered an injury, a paranormal body saw tattoos as an injury and healed them as well. A paranormal could spend a fortune on a well done tattoo one day, and by the time they woke up the next day the skin would all be healed, with no ink left to be seen.

So who could overcome them? Magic users came to mind. Locryn looked at his mark again. It was still flaring orange on his skin, something it had never done before. Gleaming the way it was, Locryn was reminded of flames, and his eyes widened.

“You and I need to talk.”

Locryn barely stopped himself from jumping as a body appeared beside him, keeping step with him, as they made their way to his house which was just yards away. How fortuitous. “I think you’re right, Zac, or do you prefer to be called by your demon name?” Locryn smirked. “My house is right this way.”