Page 38 of Shadows of the Soul

The safe word is pineapples.

“Prepare yourselves,” Dave shouted as we made our way through the stables.

“If you and my Aunt Liz are naked, then no amount of preparation will save me from the trauma.”

“She’s not here yet,” he said as I opened the front door and came to a halt. The breath left my lungs as I took in the incredible sight before me. Roses encased my home like a floral wrapper. White bloodied blooms blanketed the windows, the doorway, even the roof, and had tripled in size. Vines wrapped around the porch railing and draped over the swing chair. It was awesome, and utterly terrifying.

“They grew,” I whispered.

“Understatement of the year,” Hudson muttered as he swept me up in his arms and walked across the garden.

“We discussed this,” I stated, batting his arm. “No damsel in distress routine.”

He quirked a brow at me. “You have no shoes on, and mine won’t fit you. Your feet just healed.”

I glanced down at the thorny rose-covered lawn, comprehension dawning has to what had powered the roses evolution. “My blood.”

“Was all over the lawn,” Dave stated.

My head whipped to him, he side-eyed me. “How did you know?”

He tapped the side of his nose. “I’ve scented your blood enough times to identify it.”

“And you say I’m creepy.”

Dave remained stoic and continued. “The real question is, why the fuck are the roses bleeding your blood?”

A shudder made my body tremble in Hudson’s arms. “They must have absorbed it.”

“I stand by my previous statement. Weird shit sticks to you like glue,” Dave mumbled.

We approached the porch, finding a gaggle of supernaturals eyeballing the macabre floristry with wide-eyed fascination.

Hudson let me down the second we hit the wooden steps leading up to the deck. Rebecca turned around and swept a cool stare up and down my state of dress. “Walk of shame?”

Called it. “Not really. I’m on my property.”

“Dear god, please don’t talk about wild monkey sex on the lawn again,” Dayna groaned.

“I interrupted the wild monkey sex,” Dave said. “On account of the escalating murderous floral arrangements.”

“Not a sentence you hear every day,” Maggie said. Huh, she’d stuck around long enough to have a conversation while Hudson was here. That was progress.

“Do we know why they grew?” Rebecca asked.

“My guess is it’s something to do with Cora’s blood being all over the lawn,” Dave aptly pointed out.

Everyone turned to me. I sighed and marched inside. “Again, not a discussion for the garden.” They followed and took their typical seats in the parlor. Except Hudson, who picked me up and deposited me next to him on the sofa. I guess I should be thankful he hadn’t plonked me on his knee.

“I’ll make tea,” Maggie said, rushing off to the kitchen. She still stuck around long enough to talk to the shifters, small steps and all that.

Harry floated through the wall and came to a stop directly in front of me. “Miss Roberts, we have a problem.”

I smiled at his understatement of the year. “What are you smiling about?” Dave asked. “Nothing here seems funny.”

“I’m smiling at the irony of my aunt arriving and giving me a lecture on my choice of bedmate, which I’ll let her get out in full before I remind her of her current suitor’s faction.” Although she’d pushed me toward him, perhaps it wouldn’t be a lecture.

Dave huffed, and I patted myself on the back at a job well done in redirection.

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