Page 46 of Lion's Share
Her crystalline eyes lit up as she smiled. “That’s what the griffin said to me. Not in so many words, because it wasn’t that kind of communication, but he made it pretty clear that he would do what he could to protect Silver Hollow. It looks like he kept the shadow stalkers at bay here.” Sadness filled her eyes. “But not everywhere, it seems.”
“Silver Hollow isn’t big, but that’s still a lot of territory for a single griffin to cover,” Ben said, and he reached out and took her hand, was glad to feel her fingers curl around his. “And the Henderson farm is way on the other side of town.”
“I know that, but….” She looked down at the muddy paw prints again, and her delicate features seemed to harden, to take on a steeliness reflected in the cool gray of her eyes. “We need to do everything we can to make sure this never happens again.”
Chapter Fourteen
I didn’t open the pet store until almost noon on Monday, which was practically unheard of for me. But after the night we’d had — shadow stalkers, injured goats, and Ben crashing downstairs on the couch while I tried to sleep in my room with all the lights on — I figured Silver Hollow could survive a few hours without access to premium dog food and catnip mice.
We had lingered over breakfast, neither of us wanting to acknowledge that we’d have to face the world eventually. The bacon had been perfectly crispy, the eggs over-easy just the way I liked them, and for a brief moment, sitting across from Ben at my grandmother’s old kitchen table, I could almost pretend we were just a normal couple dealing with normal Monday morning things.
Almost.
“You’re sure you don’t want me to stick around?” he asked as I finally gathered up my purse and keys, after we’d put the breakfast dishes away and there wasn’t any real reason to linger. “I could help out at the store if you want.”
I appreciated the offer — I was expecting a shipment from Blue Buffalo later that day, and it would have been nice to have him wrangling the twenty-pound bags of dog food back in the stockroom — but I could see the worry lines around his eyes, the faint smudges beneath them. He needed to get back to his own routine, since I knew he’d been letting too many things about his YouTube channel fall by the wayside these past couple of days. Also, I assumed there would be some fallout from the way his live feed had died the day before, thanks to the portal energy delivering another whammy to the town’s electrical grid.
“I’ll be fine,” I told him, then stood on my toes to press a quick kiss against his lips. “Besides, it’s broad daylight. Shadow stalkers don’t like light, remember?”
His mouth quirked in a half-smile, but his hazel eyes were still deadly serious. “I remember. Just keep your phone nearby, okay?”
“I always do,” I assured him.
Of course, with the way things had been going lately, just keeping my phone on and fully charged wasn’t enough to guarantee that it would actually work.
The walk to Main Street felt different, as if the air itself had changed overnight. I knew it all had to be my imagination messing with me, and yet I still couldn’t quite prevent myself from glancing at every shadow, wondering if it was darker than it should be, if a shadow stalker might be hiding in there despite the wan sunlight poking its way through the clouds. The power had stayed on since it came back when we were at the Hendersons’ farm, but I found myself gazing at the street lights with a critical eye anyway, worried that they might not be ready to flip on the moment dusk approached.
When I finally unlocked the door to Silver Hollow Feathers and Fur, the familiar smell of pet food and cedar shavings that greeted me should have been comforting. Instead, it felt like I was stepping into a fishbowl, all windows and exposure. I made a mental note to pick up some additional lighting at the hardware store during a spare moment today, maybe some of those battery-powered LED strips I could stick under the shelves.
Just in case.
The first few customers were regulars who didn’t seem to notice my late opening, or if they did, were too polite to mention it. Beverly Fernsby picked up her usual flat of cat food for Harpo and Chico and Groucho, and even though she hung around much longer than she should have, chattering about her cats and the wild birds she’d been feeding, I didn’t mind. Having her there meant I wasn’t in the shop alone, and when Tom Lopez came in to grab a new collar for his escape-artist beagle, I couldn’t help smiling. It was all normal Monday stuff, and I desperately needed as much of that as I could get.
I was restocking the bird seed display when the bell hanging from the door jingled again, and I looked up to see Agent Rebecca Morse walk in.
My stomach immediately knotted. After everything that had happened during the past twenty-four hours, the last thing I needed was more federal scrutiny. No, I just wanted to be left alone so I could try to process the new danger threatening my town.
“Ms. Lowell,” Agent Morse said, her voice as neutral as her expression. Today she was wearing a different pant suit — charcoal gray instead of black — but the same no-nonsense energy radiated from her, and her blonde hair was still pulled back into the same hard little knot at the back of her neck.
“Agent Morse,” I replied in equally neutral tones, hoping I looked calmer than I felt. Between the tightness in my stomach and the way my heart rate had just sped up, I might as well have just gulped down four shots of espresso. “Back for more questions about our electrical problems?”
She moved closer to the counter, and I noticed she was carrying a tablet this time instead of just a notepad. “Actually, yes. We’ve had some interesting developments since we last spoke.”
Interesting developments. That phrase made my stomach knot itself that much tighter. Good thing I didn’t have a bottle of Tums nearby, or I probably would have been throwing them back like a frat boy doing Cuervo shots during spring break…which wouldn’t exactly be the behavior of someone with nothing to hide.
I arranged my face into what I hoped was an expression of polite curiosity. “Oh?”
“There was a significant electromagnetic event last night around nine forty-five. It was much larger than any of the previous disturbances we’ve tracked.” Her dark eyes fixed on mine, and I forced myself not to swallow. “Did you experience any power outages at that time?”
Don’t lie about things they can easily verify, I told myself. “Yes, we lost power for most of the night. It didn’t come back on until this morning.”
She made a note on her tablet. “And where were you when this occurred?”
“At home. I was just finishing dinner when everything went dark.”
Alone? The thought flickered through my mind, but it wasn’t my own voice asking the question. It was hers, sharp and assessing, although her face remained perfectly neutral.
My breath caught. Not again. Not now.
