Page 11 of Creatures of Chaos

The bellabove the door of my parents’ store, Belcourt Books and Antiques, jingles, letting me know a customer has entered. Sighing, I close the textbook in front of me. My parents don’t typically ask me to work in the store for them, but Dad is meeting with an antique dealer about a two-thousand-year-old fae artifact that was just discovered at a site in the Dark Forest, and Mom is checking in on my grandma who lives a couple hours away.

I don’t mind stepping in to help. It’s not like I have anything better happening on a Saturday afternoon.Sadly. But I was just getting into a groove with my Classic Mythology homework, so I’m a little salty to have been interrupted.

Giving myself a mental slap, I plaster on a pleasant smile and look up to greet the customer. The smile freezes on my face when I see the tall, dark-haired male dressed down in a t-shirt andjoggers walking toward me, his head bent as he reads a piece of paper in his hand.

Talon.

I can’t say I’d given him more than a passing thought over the last two days, but now that he’s here, in my parents’ shop, my heart starts a weird cadence. I know I don’t like him because of the trick he played on me at the diner, but what I’m still uncertain about is just how much.

He reaches the counter and then finally looks up and his eyes flare.

Yeah, buddy. I’m just as surprised to see you.

It’s not like Talon looks like any of our usual clientele, older male and female creatures with deep pockets. You won’t find our wares pawned at flea markets or secondhand stores. Our antiques are legit and carry a price tag to match them.

Talon recovers from the surprise of seeing me and leans forward against the counter, giving me a lazy smile I’ve no doubt works on lots of other girls. What he doesn’t realize is that I’m not like any of those other girls.

“Freckles,” he says, the tone of his voice causing a warm sensation low in my gut that irritates me.

“Can I help you?” I say, but my tone and eyes are actually saying, “Why are you here and what do you want?”

Talon ignores my sassiness, a smile growing on his face. “So you work in an antique shop,” he says rather than answer my question.

“Not really.”

He lifts his eyebrows and glances around the shop before looking back at me. “Could have fooled me.”

“My parents own the store. I only fill in for them occasionally.”

I don’t know why, but I spot interest in his eyes. “That’s cool,” he says, and it seems genuine, but I’m so used to being treated poorly that in the back of my mind I assume there’s some angle.

I also haven’t forgotten the look he gave me when we first locked eyes at Sloan’s. I couldn’t put my finger on the emotion behind his hard eyes in that moment, but I know the look wasn’t friendly.

I shrug. “I guess. So . . . did you need something?”

Our shop isn’t the type of store someone would come into to browse, so if Talon found his way here, there must be a specific reason. Either that or he’s lost.

“That depends,” he says with a lopsided grin. He rests even more of his weight on the counter, bringing himself a few inches closer to me. “Can I trust you?”

Umm . . . what? What a weird question.

“Yes?”

“You don’t sound sure.”

“I don’t really know what you’re asking me,” I admit.

“Hmm,” is all he says, his eyes turning intense as his gaze brushes over me. Well, not exactly over me, but more like the space around me. A small pleat appears between his brows, displaying his frustration. Over what though, I have no idea.

Once again I wonder what kind of creature he is. I’m still leaning toward vampire, because he made me believe something was crawling up my leg at the diner. Vampires are forbidden from using compulsion except under very monitored circumstances, but that doesn’t mean some of them don’t bend or break the rules from time to time.

It’s possible he used air magic to make it feel like there was something slithering up my leg. There are a number of different airborne shifters, like birds and dragons, with that kind of magic. And fae is still an option as well. He’s not wearing a knit cap today; his dark hair is shorter on the sides and longer ontop, which makes the rounded tops of his ears easy to see, but many years of breeding within species has made it so there are as many fae with rounded ears as pointed. I’m not sure what kind of fae magic he could have used to create that illusion, but fae are notoriously sneaky, so I’m not ready to rule them out yet either.

Talon clears his throat, the intensity in his gaze melting away as quickly as it came upon him as his mouth hitches back up in a grin. “I think you’re safe enough,” he declares, and I don’t know what that’s supposed to mean either. “I’m looking for Shadow Striker.”

“What’s that?” I cock my head. Not many of our items have official names like that. I was expecting him to ask about a twelfth century armoire or a handcrafted fae rug from the Dark Forest or something of the like. The name he gave me doesn’t sound like an antique, it sounds like an artifact. Or a really cool name for a fantasy villain.

“Well, that’s up for interpretation,” he says. “And it also depends.”

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