Page 6 of Shamrocks & Second Chances

I smile despite myself. “Hello to you too, Zephyr.”

The air spirit circles me, his form rippling. “You’ve been standing here all day. Bella noticed, you know. She pretended not to, but she did.”

Hope flares. “Did she say anything about me?”

“Nothing I can repeat in polite company.” Zephyr’s laugh is like a gust of wind through autumn leaves. “But she kept looking out the window when she thought no one was watching.”

I glance toward the café. Through the window, I see Bella counting out the register, her brow furrowed in concentration. Hecate sits nearby, her tiny head tilted as if listening to Bella’s muttered calculations.

“Do you think she’ll help me?” I ask.

Zephyr hovers in front of me, his form condensing slightly so I can see his expression more clearly. “The theft of your gold is no coincidence, Seamus. The universe creates situations to force us to face what we avoid.”

“You sound like Grizelda.”

“Grizelda is wise.” Zephyr drifts toward the edge of the bridge. “And so is Bella. Don’t mess it up this time, leprechaun. Second chances are rare, even in a magical town like Evershift Haven.”

With that, he’s gone, leaving only a gentle breeze in his wake.

The café lights dim as Bella finishes closing up. I straighten, adjusting my shirt and running a hand through my hair. This is it. The moment I’ve been waiting for all day.

The door to Moonwake Café opens, and Bella steps out. She’s changed out of her work clothes into a pair of fitted jeans and a flowing top the color of midnight. Her green hair is pulled back into a messy bun, with a few strands escaping to frame her face. Hecate trots at her heels, her tiny collar charm glowing softly in the twilight.

I expect Bella to head home to her small butternut squash cottage on the outskirts of town, if she still lives where she did two years ago. Instead, she turns in the opposite direction, walking with purpose toward the center of Evershift Haven.

Toward the Moonlit Inn.

I push away from the bridge railing, my muscles protesting after hours of inactivity. Should I approach her now? Call out to her? The thought of confronting her makes my mouth go dry.

No. Better to wait, to see what she’s discovered. If she’s following a trail, I need to know where it leads before I intervene.

Keeping a discreet distance, I follow Bella through the winding streets of Evershift Haven. The town is beautiful at twilight, with fairy lights beginning to twinkle in the trees and magical lanterns casting a warm glow over the cobblestone paths. A few residents nod to me as I pass, some with surprise, others with knowing smiles.

Bella walks quickly, her stride purposeful. Hecate keeps pace beside her, occasionally glancing back as if she knows I’m following. The tiny dog probably does, being magical.

As they approach the Moonlit Inn, I hang back, watching from the shadow of a large oak tree. The inn is a Victorian-style building with gables and turrets that seem to shift and change when you’re not looking directly at them. Owned by Etienneand Crystal St. John, a vampire couple who’ve been together for centuries, it’s the oldest establishment in Evershift Haven.

Bella pauses at the entrance, reaching into her pocket to touch something—the clue she found, perhaps. She takes a deep breath, squares her shoulders, and steps inside, Hecate trotting faithfully at her heels.

I wait, counting to one hundred before approaching the inn. Through the stained-glass windows, I see the warm glow of the lobby. Bella is at the reception desk, speaking with Crystal St. John, whose pale, perfect features are animated as she responds to whatever Bella is asking.

Whatever trail Bella is following, it leads here to the Moonlit Inn, where I’ve been staying since my return to Evershift Haven. Is that significant? Or merely coincidence?

I retreat to the shadows, deciding to wait. Let Bella discover the next clue before I intervene. She’s always been clever—it’s one of the many things I love about her.

Chapter 3—Bella

THE MOONLIT INN STANDSbefore me, its Victorian architecture a stark contrast to the modern buildings surrounding it. Wrought iron fences with intricate designs frame the property, and the gardens—even in March—bloom with night-flowering plants that shouldn’t be possible in this climate. The St. Johns have never been ones to follow natural laws.

I march up the cobblestone path, my green hair whipping around my face in the evening breeze. Hecate trots beside me, her tiny paws making almost no sound on the stones. The inn’s windows glow, inviting weary travelers inside.

“Remember,” I whisper to Hecate, “No barking at Crystal this time. I know she moves too quickly for your liking, but she’s not trying to hunt you.”

Hecate gives me a skeptical side-eye that clearly says she’ll believe it when she sees it.

The massive oak door swings open before I can knock—a classic vampire move that never fails to irritate me. Crystal St. John stands in the doorway, her willowy figure draped in a flowing burgundy dress that complements her pale complexion. Her violet eyes seem to glow in the dim light of the entryway.

“Bella,” she says, her voice musical and lilting. “What a delightful surprise.”

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