Page 8 of Shannon in Sombra

“Hello, Shannon. Alana. It is good to see you both.”

She has a slight accent since Sombran isn’t her first language. Like me, Ferron gave her his essence and his language, but there’s always a tiny hint that she’s not from here. You could figure that out from her gleaming pink eyes, dark brown skin, short white horns, and curly thick hair, of course, but the accent helps.

In fact, talking to Yvette makes me wonder what I sound like when I speak in Sombran. Something harsh, like a New Yorker who isn’t quite fluent in Spanish but passable at it perhaps. I’m sure it’s nowhere near as lyrical as someone like Mal or maybe Damien, but since everything I hear and speak sounds like English to me, I’ll never know unless I ask.

And if I ask Mal, he’ll just smile and tell me that my voice is music to his pointed ears, the big sap.

“You, too.” After double-checking that Alana is content with her teether, I get up and approach Yvette. “What can I do for you?”

“I come for more cock book,” she says pleasantly.

It takes everything I have not to burst out laughing. “What was that?”

Sombra demons have ridges over their noses. Brille Rouge demons have skin with a slightly bumpy texture. As she scrunches up her face, her features join together, looking more rock-like. “Was my human not good?”

“Oh, no, no, sweetie. Your, um, human is very good.” Switching to Sombran, I tell her, “I just wanted to make sure that I understood. You want a book aboutcock?”

“About mating, yes,” she answers in the native language. “I finished one about a man who liked to chop wood and lie with his mate. It was very entertaining. I would like more like that.”

“Lumberjacks,” I tell her, slipping back into English because there’s no direct Sombran translation for that. No surprise. All they have are burn trees, and if I start to wonder where we get oxygen from when this is the least green world I’ve ever heard of, I make sure to drop it real quick. “I think I have more of those.”

As I move toward one of the many romance stacks, she follows behind me. “Sometimes I flip through the pages, searching for the human word. For ‘cock’. Then I know I’ve found the right scenes.” Preening a little, she adds, “I read them to Ferron before bed. It gives him ideas and helps him learn to speak human. Then he says dirty things to me as he…” She pauses, glancing around. When she sees that no one else has entered our library behind her, she giggles, then says, “fucksme. That’s right, yes?”

Another muffled chuckle from me at the English word mixed in with Sombran. “Perfect, Yvette.”

Since she seems pretty clear on what she wants—and I made sure to assure her that I don’t mind that she’s held onto the last book a little longer for ‘inspiration’—I search through the shelves, letting out a soft ‘ah-ha’ when I findThe Woodsman’s Secret Bride. That sounds right up her alley.

“Here you go.”

She takes it reverentially between her curved claws. “Thank you. I am very curious about this woodsman’s mate.”

“Well, you tell me all about her when you’re done.”

And maybe keep what happens between you and Ferron to yourself…

Yvette grins and promises that she will. I wave her off, check on Alana again because motherhood is a one-way trip to anxiety hell, then turn to the ledger where I keep track of who borrows what book from the library.

It doesn’t take long for me to jot down the title and Yvette’s name, but when I’m putting my pen I had Mal bring, too, down on the page, I glance up to see a demoness standing a few feet away from Alana’s playpen.

I don’t know everyone in Nuit on sight just yet. For sure, the Soleil demoness—with features like Lilith’s, only without any of her warmth—is not a member of the EL or our English lessons. She might be the mate of one of the older hunters, but I won’t lie: I only think that because the sneer of disgust I caught on her face is the same as the one he gives me when I’m strolling around the village square with Alana.

My back goes right up even as the demoness works to smooth out her features.

Okay. I’ve made the best of it. I love living with Mal, and I’ve made good friends. Kennedy, Lilith, Billie when she’s here, the other human girls who visit, even Yvette. The EL gives me something to do, and I thought that the villagers would get used to me in time.

They never had a problem before. They all seem to adore Kennedy. And yet, ever since I’ve tried to really integrate into the community, I get this vibe that they suddenly want me gone.

Good luck. I’ll do anything to keep my daughter safe and my family together, whether these mean girls—these meandemonesses—want me to or not.

So, pulling a customer service smile to my face even though I keep my eyes hard, I nod at her. “Welcome to the Earth Library.”

She startles, as though she didn’t expect me to speak. Hell. I even purposely used Sombran so as not to really rub in my humanness so I don’t know what freaked her out.

Something did, though. Without a word in response, she throws one last look at Alana, then turns on her heels, hurrying out the door.

I think I know how she got inside the EL without me noticing before. She must’ve slipped in as Yvette left because right asshestorms out the door, Kennedy sidles in before the door closes.

I say, sidle… poor chick basically waddles as Freya—her pet squirrel-cat—chitters at her feet. The shadow animal throws herself up, rubbing Kennedy’s calf, before bounding over to the low playpen to visit with Alana.

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