10. Felix

10

FELIX

" T here," Cat instructs as we move a ridiculously heavy grandfather clock into the corner of the shop. "Right there."

"Is it centered?" I ask. "Go look."

She walks to the middle of the room and tilts her head to the side. "It needs to go a smidgen to the left." I nudge it, and she frowns. "More. More…too much. Yes, there. Stop, don't move it again."

I join her, surveying our progress. "I've never seen so many clocks in my life."

"What in the world is Benjamin going to do with them all after we finish the job?" Cat asks. "Surely he doesn't expect us to sell them all while we're here?"

I turn to her, raising my eyebrows.

"You're right," she laughs. "He probably does."

A noise at the front of the shop catches our attention. The door handle turns, but we haven't opened yet, so the lock is set. Undaunted, the visitor knocks.

Cat rubs her temples, looking like she's not ready to continue the parade of introductions. "You get it."

Taking pity on her, I open the door. "We're not quite open for business…" I trail off when I recognize the barmaid from the tavern in Waldst. I'm not sure what she's doing on our porch, but I'm certain Cat isn't going to be excited to see her.

"You," she laughs, running her hand over her blonde curls coquettishly. "I remember you."

"He's not a customer," the young woman beside her hisses. She's quiet, but not quiet enough. "Tone down the accent."

The blonde woman rolls her eyes, giggling. Then she leans forward, dropping her voice just slightly. "The customers like the accent. They tip better when it's heavy." Then she winks.

I sense Cat just before she captures the women's attention.

The second woman looks chagrined. She offers Cat the small, tea towel-covered basket she's holding. "Welcome to the village. My name is Belinda, and this is my sister, Millie. I work in the bookshop, and she works at Bruno's place."

The two women are a study of opposites. The one we met before is of medium height, with golden ringlets, bright blue eyes, and a generous figure. Her sister is petite, with straight brunette hair, brown eyes, and a solemn expression.

"You were in Waldst, though," I say to Millie, acutely aware of Cat's silence.

"I help when they need it," she answers.

"She helps when good-for-nothing Norris is in town," Belinda adds waspishly, giving me a knowing look. "He sells tonics around the province."

"We have a monster to keep his sort away," I say for Cat's amusement.

The two women blink at me, and I can feel Cat restraining an annoyed sigh.

"One of Frida's creations," I add, wrapping my arm around Cat's shoulders and giving her an affectionate squeeze. She stiffens under me, flustered by the contact.

Millie shudders, her eyes going to the hand that holds my wife. "Those are horrible things."

Cat pulls back the tea towel, revealing the contents of the basket. "Thank you for the bread."

It's a dismissal if I've ever heard one.

"You're welcome." Taking the hint, Belinda nudges her sister toward the steps. "I'm sure we'll see you again soon."

"We'll come back when your shop is open!" Millie waves as she trots down the stairs.

"It was nice to meet you," Cat calls, but her tone is bland.

When they're well down the street, I turn to her, smirking. "You're usually more welcoming than this."

She fixes me with an unamused look.

"I didn't invite them," I add.

Pushing the basket into my hands, she returns her attention to the clocks. "Let's get back to work."

"You're prettier than she is."

"What?" Cat says sharply, my words startling her.

I set the bread on a shelf and cross my arms, studying her. She's in a butter-colored dress today, with a white pinafore over it and a handkerchief covering her hair. She looks soft and kissable, even though I know she has at least two blades hidden under the sweet cottage-maiden attire. "I just thought you might like to know."

"I'm not that vain." She rolls her eyes. "What do I care if she's prettier than me?"

I walk toward her, my steps languid. "All right. But still…she's not."

She eyes me, unsure what my intentions are.

I take a strand of her hair, running my fingers down its smooth length. "I've never seen hair like yours."

I expect her to pull away, but she doesn't. "My sister's was the same color, just a little darker."

That catches my attention. She rarely speaks of her family and never a sister. "Was?"

"She died," she says quietly.

"How?"

Swallowing, she hardens her expression. "How do you think?"

"Werewolf."

"Lina was eighteen, engaged to be married. A week before the wedding, we found her in the middle of the village, brutally murdered."

"That's horrifying. And her poor fiancé."

Cat's eyes flick up to mine. "Her fiancé was the werewolf."

I reach for her, wanting to offer comfort I doubt she'll accept. But she's lost in the past and doesn't push me away when I set my hands on her upper arms.

"They were together two months," she continues. "He was the nicest man, so thoughtful, so attentive. And all that time, he was a monster. She trusted him—loved him—and he killed her without remorse and left her body for all her friends and family to see. Right in the village square, where children play."

"How did you kill him?"

"He came for me next, before we realized he was the monster, offering comfort . I saw the blood under his nails—Lina's blood—and I ran. He followed me, dropping his human form. But he wasn't as familiar with the land outside our village as I was. I led him to a ravine, hid behind a rock, and then pushed him over the edge. I was very fortunate I didn't die that night."

I tuck her close, gently wrapping my arms around her back when she doesn't resist. "I'm sorry you lived through that, but I am thankful you lived. You have a lot of fight in you, bluebird."

Sighing, she sets her cheek against my chest. "I miss her."

I stroke her hair, holding her tighter.

"These jobs always dredge up old memories," she says quietly. And then she shakes her head and steps out of my arms. "I'm fine."

"Greg knows all this, doesn't he?"

"I talk to him sometimes," she admits. "He's a good listener."

Everyone knows Cat and the dragon are close, but I didn't realize he knows her better than I do. It would be ridiculous to be jealous of the overgrown lizard, but emotions are often irrational.

I slide my hands into my pockets. "Does my father know your story?"

"Yes."

"Then Greg is right—it's cruel to send you on these jobs."

"I joined GHOST to hunt werewolves, to save people like my sister. Your father knows that."

"I don't like it."

"You don't have to like it. You're my apprentice, not my master."

I give her a lazy smile. "You say that like you think it bothers me."

"Doesn't it?" she asks, tucking away her sorrow, looking curious now. "I'm younger than you and untitled. You have to take orders from a cobbler's daughter. I'm assuming it must bother you a bit."

"We both know I'm rubbish at following orders."

"You know what I mean."

"I'm here because I want to be, Cat, not because my father told me to jump. If you were anyone else, I would have walked away long ago."

Her eyebrows twitch. "Are you saying you're not here for GHOST? For your inheritance?"

"Of course I'm not." I turn back to my project, clearing a shelf for more clocks. "I'm here for you. Everything I've done in the last eighteen months has been for you. You're the only reason I'm still in the Allied Provinces."

"Felix."

I turn, widening my eyes at her sharp tone. "What?"

"That can't be true."

"Of course it's true." I frown. "Why do you look so befuddled?"

"You agreed to training because of me?" she asks incredulously.

"Because you were the trainer, yes."

"And to the apprenticeship because…"

"It was with you."

Looking flustered, she demands, "Why do you keep answering like I should know this already?"

I chuckle, studying her. "Because you should. I've never pretended to be loyal to GHOST, but I'd follow you anywhere."

She stares at me, her eyes suspicious. And then she laughs like this entire conversation is absurd and heads for the door. "Organize your clocks."

"Where are you going?"

"Out."

"Out where?"

"I'm going to buy groceries."

"Do you want me to come with you?"

"No."

And then she's gone.

" I don't think that went as well as you hoped, " a deep, slightly condescending voice says in my head.

"Hello, Greg," I say to the dragon. "You're here?"

" I arrived early this morning. I'm in the woods to the west of the village. "

"How did the portrait go?"

" Greta's work is abstract, but it holds promise. "

"She's a child."

" Still pining over Catriona? "

"I married her."

" Congratulations. Does that mean she's supposed to like you now? "

"In an ideal situation, yes."

" Have you found the werewolf? "

"Not yet, but there's a man I want you to keep track of. His name is Cyril. He's young, probably nineteen at the most, with brown hair. He looks like a rodent."

" You all look like rodents—those naked ones, specifically. Where does he live? "

"I don't know."

" Where does he work? "

"I don't know that either."

" So, you want me to keep an eye on the human who looks like all the other humans, who lives somewhere and works somewhere? "

"You're testy today."

" I'm hungry, and all I've seen are apples. "

"Deer like apples. Wait for them to arrive at dusk, and you'll have a feast."

" Who's Johann? "

I stand straighter. "What?"

" Cat is speaking to someone named Johann. He sounds smooth, like Atticus. Are you sure you're married? Maybe you think you are, but you're mistaken. "

"I'm sure."

" Then you should probably make sure this Johann person is aware of it. "

"Stop eavesdropping on Cat's conversations. It's not polite."

" Suit yourself. Reach out to me when you know more about your naked rodent friend. I'm going to take a nap. "

Our connection goes silent, and my thoughts go to the general goods store.