Page 10 of Siren in the Rain

And one thing this coin does is shine, the early morning sun making it sparkle in my hand. Nothing explodes and no alarms blare, so things are probably cool.

I hope.

I study the coin some more and my brow furrows in concentration.

Surely this can’t be real gold… right?

It looks pretty darn real though.

I turn it over in my hand. Engraved on one side is a raven and on the other a dragon.

Sweet!

I grin from ear to ear. My old high school D&D friends would lose their freaking minds over this.

My mouth drops open when a looping script starts to appear on the dragon side of the coin.

Whoa. It’s just like when the secret writing appeared on the One Ring for Frodo.

But rather than Elvish or something equally cool, it reads in English: It’s YOUR lucky day!

Okay, now I’m suspicious.

Maybe it’s some kind of weird advertisement for an underground casino?

Or maybe it’s part of a scam, you dolt.

I blink a few times and squint as I study the coin, but the writing—that definitely hadn’t been there before—remains.

While I don’t entirely trust this slightly sketchy gold coin, I’m also oddly reluctant to let it go, so I pocket it to deal with later.

Besides, if I start falling into any Gollum-esque “my precious” bullshit, I’ll ditch it.

Nothing to worry about, Griffin McIntyre. You’ve got this.

I nod assuredly to myself, tail flicking, as I hurry to catch up with the others.

I’ll be sure to show the coin to Cal later and get his take. He’ll know what’s going on with it for sure.

We’re met at the shelter entrance by a kind-looking orc, her light green face lined with wrinkles and her gray hair tied back in a simple braid. “Thank you for coming,” she says, ushering us inside. “I’m Mara and I run this shelter.”

“Good to meet you. I’m Dallas and this is my team.”

Mara holds a hand to her cheek. “I wasn’t sure what to do with this case.”

“You did the right thing by calling us, Mara,” Dallas says. “What can you tell us?”

She gestures to a younger woman who watches us with a worried but wary expression from around a corner.

“His name is Shae Silverstorm. Emma here can tell you more than me, though,” Mara explains.

The young woman steps forward. She’s short and athletically built, and currently dressed in ripped jeans and an oversized hoodie. She’s shaved her dyed lavender hair closer on the sides and allowed the top to grow longer, and overall, she seems wary of us.

She lifts her chin and crosses her arms. “You’re here to help my friend, right? You won’t take him back to the people who hurt him?”

The fact that she’s facing down Dallas like this, when she’s a fraction of his size, is impressive. But my empathic magic is sensing a lot of emotional turmoil and fear coming from her.

“I swear on my honor and my life.” Dallas pounds one of his big fists against his chest. “We’re here to help. We won’t let anyone hurt your friend ever again.”

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