Page 18 of Teeth To Rip & Tear

“How did your mother pass?”

“This is getting personal.” I fanned myself, laughing though the sound seemed bitter and empty.

“My Pack was killed by the Huntsman,” Kaleb said without emotion. “A long time ago.”

“Your boss? The Huntsman?” I shot him a disbelieving look.

“It’s a rather long and tedious story,” Kaleb murmured. “And as you said,personal.”

“My mom died of iron poisoning,” I told him. “The more powerful Fae can withstand a certain amount of iron, but a large amount will kill a Fae Lord just as much as a brownie or sprite.” I didn’t need to explain; Kaleb knew all of this. He’d been alive as long as my grandmother had.

“How did it happen?” Kaleb put his hand over mine before pulling back as if my skin had burned him.

“She was bleeding so much when she gave birth to me,” I whispered. My eyes stung, but I refused to let tears fall. I’d never met my mother, so I couldn’t mourn her, but I felt guilt.

My grandmother Eva had loved me. I knew that. But I couldn’t stop the longing and sadness that sometimes clouded her eyes when she thought I wasn’t looking.

“She got taken to the hospital. She needed a transfusion. Apparently, the iron in the donated blood was enough to...” I coughed to clear my throat. “She was weak, bleeding. The iron in the blood was just the final push.”

“And your father?” Kaleb wondered.

I shrugged. “Some guy she met at college. Roanoke College in VirginiaGo Maroons.” I pumped my fist with false enthusiasm. “He had family in Tennessee, and the rest was history.”

It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t the whole truth either.

Kaleb shook his head, unamused by my attempt to break the tension.

The low rumble of a country singer, not loud enough to discern any actual lyrics, wove through the thick tension in the car.

“What does it feel like?” I asked. “To be called by the Huntsman?”

“A pain you would gnaw your own arm off to avoid.” Kaleb closed his eyes and tilted his head to rest against the headrest.

I chewed my bottom lip but said nothing as the desire to spill all of my secrets made me feel like a lone sapling against the force of a hurricane.

We drove through town, past Cherry Tree Drive and Palmer Street, until the quaint shops on Main passed us.

In the past few years, Locket had slowly been taken over by franchises and chains. I’d wanted a store on Main, but the rent had been too steep to even consider, so I settled for Palmer, two blocks over. Even in the small town of Locket, the short distance from Main Street made a difference, but the town found ways to fight back.

What had once been a vibrant example of Americana had become a strip of coffee chain stores with a few fast restaurants thrown in. Though the stores were always open, they were rarely full. People would avoid Starbucks and go to Java Joes on Palmer, even if it meant walking two blocks. Anything to support a small local business.

The only survivor on Main wasGreco, the Greek restaurant owned by Yanis and his wife, Yara. My stomach rumbled as the blue neon sign depicting a Grecian vase came into view.

Kaleb bit back a smile and found a space; my brows arched in confusion.

“You missed dinner.” He shrugged as he parked the car.

I would happily eat gyros and tzatziki for every meal for the rest of my life, so I saw no point arguing with him.

Yanis found us a table quickly and produced two menus with a flourish.

I loved coming to Greco, but it was usually reserved for special occasions. Birthdays. Engagements. Joel’s promotions.

“How long have you lived in Locket?” I asked once the server brought our drinks.

Kaleb took a sip of water. “A couple of years. The Huntsman moves me from pack to pack. He can’t seem to find a place for me.”

I glanced down at the menu. “You were in the Beast King’s pack? Back in the Aos Sí.”

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