Page 32 of Shifters in the Night

“Oh, there are no menus,” Alex told her, like that was a completely normal thing to say. “Siobhan tells you what kind of pie you’re getting.”

“But I might want something else,” she said, her voice low.

“It’s better to let Siobhan choose your pie,” Alex told her. “It’s some sort of fairy magic, where she can look at you and tell what sort of pie you need. And not just in the ‘what sort of pie would you like’ way, but what you need. It’s supposed to be something that soothes you, down to your very core. I know it sounds strange, but it works.”

Lia thought back to her time at the shop with Jon and how Siobhan had just handed her a slice of cinnamon pie without asking her what she wanted. What did the cinnamon say about what she needed? Was the fairy’s gift like her own? Did Siobhan see her conflicted feelings about her work? Jon? The overall direction of her life? What if cinnamon pie was the answer for a person who was hopelessly lost?

“I questioned it the first time I came here and tried to order a slice of the peach. I had to learn the hard way that when you question Siobhan, you go without pie. She’s only recently forgiven me and that was only because I ordered her vanilla beans directly from Tahiti,” Alex asked.

“Isn’t that considered an abuse of your power and connections?” Lia asked.

He threw his hands up. “She threatened to cut me off from the pie, Lia. What was I supposed to do?”

She laughed and his expression softened.

“It’s difficult, as the outsider coming in. I get it. It’s a lot to get used to all at once. And a lot of people were prepared – hell, determined – not to trust me. But these are good people. Eventually, they’ll make you one of their own,” Alex said.

Lia realized how much she longed for that. She wanted to be a part of Mystic Bayou and the people there … well, maybe not a part of whatever was happening at Dr. Bremmer’s table, but she wanted to wake up in the same place every morning and go to work. She wanted to walk down the street and see people she knew and have them be happy to see her. Could she really quit her job at New Ground? It had been a fleeting impulse earlier, but it seemed like an inevitability now. Victor would lash out in ways she couldn’t predict. She would have to leave poor Jeff, and that really would hurt. They’d sort of formed a bond, working the closest with his uncle, and she would feel terrible leaving him behind. Maybe she could continue to see him after she quit? It was obvious she was going to need to stay in town, to protect Mystic Bayou from this theme park-ification Victor had planned.

Then there was the problem of what she would do for work after she left New Ground. Sure, she had savings and the cost of living here was minimal. Maybe it was time to think about her own consulting firm? Could she find enough clients in this part of the country to make that a valid idea?

And then there was Jon. If she stayed, would she fight a little harder for Jon? Or step back and let him pursue whatever could be happening between him and Eva? She realized she was sitting there silently, while Alex stared at her. That was probably rude.

“Do you feel like one of their own yet?” she asked.

“Not quite, but I did piss off Siobhan, which probably added a year or so to my probationary period,” he said, straightening in his seat when the wizened woman approached their table.

“Cinnamon pie,” she said, dropping the plate unceremoniously in front of Lia. She gave what could be considered a smile to Alex and said, “Peach with vanilla custard.”

“Can you tell me what the cinnamon pie means?” Lia asked Siobhan.

“It doesn’t mean anything. It’s not a horoscope,” Siobhan grumbled.

“I think Lia is asking what she needs from the pie,” Alex supplied helpfully. He pulled a gallon-sized jar of preserved vanilla bean pods from the seat next to him. Lia could smell their sweet essence from across the table.

Siobhan’s mouth quirked upward, though she schooled her face back into its cranky mask as she took the jar from his hands. “You’re heading towards something different than anything you’ve had before, anything your parents gave you or have had themselves. You need something permanent. Something that’s just for you. And there’s nothing wrong with that. You just have to be brave enough to step forward and take it, even as you’re being tested from every angle.”

Lia swallowed heavily and nodded, feeling completely vulnerable in front of two people she didn’t know that well. She did want all of those things. She just didn’t know how to put it into words until now, or how she was going to explain it to her parents, her coworkers. And what was that Siobhan said about tests? What kind of tests? Was this – like everything in her life seemed to be – about Victor? “Thank you.”

Siobhan nodded and before she stepped away from the table, told Alex, “I’m running out of cinnamon. I hear good things about Ceylon.”

“I’ll put in the order today,” Alex promised, then speared a piece of flaky pie crust with his fork.

“Are you really going to ship her cinnamon from Sri Lanka?” Lia asked.

Alex closed his eyes and chewed his pie. “Yes, yes, I am.”

Just then, a thin brunette wearing cotton gloves walked into the shop and the smile slid right off Alex’s face. The woman was a little more subtle, but there was still a moment where she paused – shrouded by a fog of yellows, regret and apprehension streaked with dirty brown guilt that snuck through Lia’s defenses. This woman had all sorts of misgivings about being in a room with Alex. The newcomer seemed to debate turning around. She might have, if not for the lanky pale man who’d entered the pie shop behind her, smiling at her as if she’d personally hung the stars. She recognized him … Brendan, who worked in artifact storage at the League. He’d been at the meeting the other day.

Brendan nodded to Alex and the couple turned to an empty booth and slid in. They held hands across the table and Alex looked almost pained. Finally, problems that weren’t her own. She could use a break from cycling through the chaos in her head to ask Alex about his life.

“History there?” she asked, picking at her own pie.

“Ex-girlfriend,” he said, clearing his throat.

“A recent ex-girlfriend?” she asked. “It looks sort of fresh.”

He chuckled while she let the spicy warmth of Siobhan’s creation spread on her tongue. “No, oddly enough. It’s an old wound. We were high school sweethearts, sort of a carnival Romeo and Juliet thing. But our parents were a little better at splitting us up. We didn’t see each other for years and then bam, suddenly we’re both moving to the Bayou, working for the League and falling in love with a handsome Irish bastard who worships the ground she walks on. The last part was just her. I didn’t fall in love with him.”

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