Page 1 of Claws for Celebration
1
LUCIEN
The brass bell above the door chimed its final farewell of the day as Miriam Caldwell shuffled out with her weekly romance novel tucked under her arm. Lucien Vale turned the deadbolt with practiced efficiency, the click echoing through The Hollow Oak Book Nook like a period at the end of a well-crafted sentence.
"Another day, another dollar," he murmured to the empty shop, though money had never been his primary concern. The bookstore served a different purpose entirely. It was his anchor to the daylight world, his excuse for existing among Hollow Oak's residents without raising questions about his nocturnal activities.
The last golden rays of autumn sunlight slanted through the front windows, casting long shadows between the towering shelves. Dust motes danced in the amber light like tiny spirits, and for a moment, Lucien allowed himself to appreciate the simple beauty of his domain. Stacks of newly arrived books waited to be shelved, their fresh paper scent mixing with the comforting mustiness of older volumes. The leather reading chairs by the fireplace still held the impression of today'scustomers, and a half-empty teacup sat forgotten on the small table between them.
This was his world by day. Quiet. Predictable. Safe.
But as the sun dipped below the tree line, painting the shop in deeper shadows, everything changed.
Lucien made his way toward the back of the store, past the bestsellers and local interest sections, past the cozy children's corner with its rainbow-painted bookshelf, to the area he kept carefully cordoned off from casual browsers. The rare books section occupied its own alcove, protected by glass cases and discrete warning signs about handling antique materials.
Tonight, those ancient tomes seemed to whisper.
"What's got you all worked up?" he asked the collection, his voice barely above a breath. The question wasn't entirely rhetorical. After fifteen years in Hollow Oak, Lucien had learned to listen when the magical artifacts grew restless.
The Shadowheart Codex, bound in midnight-black leather with silver clasps, practically hummed with energy. Its neighbor, a slim volume of blood magic genealogies, trembled against its restraining chains. Even the relatively benign collection of fae poetry seemed agitated, pages rustling despite the still air.
Lucien's panther stirred under his skin, responding to the magical disturbance with predatory awareness. The big cat wanted to pace, to investigate, to hunt whatever had disturbed the supernatural equilibrium. Instead, Lucien forced himself to remain calm, running long fingers through his shoulder-length black hair as he studied the collection.
"Easy there," he whispered, though he wasn't sure if he addressed the books or his beast.
The shop's phone rang, startling him from his contemplation. Three sharp bursts, then silence. The Council's signal. Time to trade his shopkeeper's apron for darker tools.
Lucien moved with fluid grace to his office behind the main counter, unlocking a desk drawer that appeared to contain nothing more interesting than paperwork and office supplies. A hidden panel revealed his real evening equipment: black tactical clothing, silver-bladed knives, communication gear, and a leather holster for weapons both conventional and enchanted.
He changed quickly, muscle memory guiding him through the familiar ritual. The soft cotton of his day clothes gave way to form-fitting black that would help him blend with shadows. The transformation felt like shedding skin, revealing the predator that lived beneath the civilized surface.
"Another night, another hunt," he corrected his earlier sentiment, checking the edge on his favorite blade. The silver gleamed wickedly in the lamplight, etched with protective runes that would make it effective against most supernatural threats.
His reflection in the darkened window showed a man changed. Gone was the approachable bookstore owner with his gentle smile and soft-spoken manner. In his place stood something harder, more dangerous. His features seemed sharper in the twilight, cheekbones cutting harsh angles while his eyes held the predatory gleam of his other nature.
This was who he became when Hollow Oak's supernatural residents slept soundly in their beds, trusting that someone watched the shadows for threats they couldn't imagine.
The phone rang again. Two short bursts this time. Urgent.
Lucien grabbed his jacket and headed for the back exit, pausing only to set the shop's wards. Invisible threads of protection magic settled around the building like a security blanket, keeping both the valuable books and the dangerous ones safe until his return.
The alley behind the bookstore connected to a network of paths that honeycombed through Hollow Oak's downtown core. Ancient cobblestones, worn smooth by centuries of foottraffic, reflected the glow of old-fashioned street lamps. The town council maintained the historical aesthetic carefully, though few tourists ever found their way to Hollow Oak. The fae enchantments that protected the town from outside eyes ensured that only those meant to discover it ever did.
Lucien's boots made no sound on the stones as he moved toward his rendezvous point. Years of night work had taught him to walk like his panther, silent and sure. The autumn air carried the scent of woodsmoke from a dozen chimneys, the sweet decay of fallen leaves, and underneath it all, the wild green smell of the mountains that cradled their hidden community.
He loved this place with a fierceness that sometimes surprised him. Hollow Oak had given him sanctuary when he needed it most, a purpose when he'd lost everything else. The bookstore provided him with peaceful days among stories and knowledge. The Council work satisfied his need to protect, to hunt, to matter in the ongoing fight between order and chaos.
It was a good life. A complete life.
So why did tonight feel different?
The question nagged at him as he slipped between buildings, using shortcuts known only to the town's supernatural guardians. The magical disturbance in his shop was part of it, certainly. Ancient grimoires didn't grow restless without cause. But there was something else, a tension in the air that made his panther pace restlessly beneath his human facade.
Change was coming to Hollow Oak. He could feel it in his bones, taste it on the mountain wind. Something that would shift the careful balance they'd maintained for so long.
Lucien paused at the edge of Moonmirror Lake, where the Council maintained one of their outdoor meeting spaces. The water reflected the rising moon in perfect clarity, and for a moment, he caught his own reflection in the silver surface. Hisface looked troubled, shadowed with concerns he couldn't yet name.
"Whatever's coming," he promised his reflection, "I'll be ready."
