Page 13 of Night Owl Books

“Besides,” she continued, “I told you what his type is. He likes tall, willowy women, not short, curvy ones.”

“I can do it,” I said.

Arwyn and Declan were still bickering, and perhaps I’d said it too quietly, more thought than speech. When you don’t talk much, it can be tricky to do it right.

I cleared my throat and tried again. “I wear jeans. I have long hair and am tall and thin. I can do it.”

They all turned to study me with varying expressions of doubt.

SIX

Challenge Accepted

“Uh. Well. That’s an idea,” Arthur said cautiously.

“Orla, this is going to be really dangerous,” Nick said. He gestured between himself and Arthur. “We smell like bears. Shifters recognize the scent. We can’t stay close to protect you.”

I nodded, annoyed that they were talking to me like I was dumb. “I realize that some people view owl mannerisms as evidence that we’re slow or mentally diminished. We’re not. I can assure you I’m quite intelligent and understand the risk. Unlike all of you, I don’t carry an easily identifiable scent, and I know how to mimic humans. I doubt he’ll pick up on my being a shifter at all. Once you all leave, I’ll go shower off your scents and drive to wherever you tell me to go.”

Arwyn nodded. “Yes. This is a good idea.”

“Do you see something?” Arthur asked. “Do you know this will work?”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “I trust Orla. She knows herself. If she says she can do it, then she can do it.”

“Could you help?” Declan asked Arwyn. “Could you spell her to change her scent?”

She thought a moment and then looked at me. “Would you want me to do that?”

I considered. “No. My own scent being different or absent will make me uncomfortable and what I’m doing is already outside my comfort zone. If I’ve never met another owl shifter, what are the chances he has? I just need to know where I should pretend my Jeep broke down.”

Nick walked over and crouched down in front of me, looking into my eyes. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

I nodded, unsure but determined. I doubted this was what my mother meant when she told me to live a little, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. This was what had dropped into my lap, so this was what I’d do.

Nick stood and held out his hand. I took it and he pulled me to my feet. Embarrassed, I meant to drop it right away, but it felt safe and warm. And thrilling. He gave my hand a quick squeeze and then stepped back to discuss locations with Arthur.

I picked up the mostly empty tray and walked it back to the kitchen, taking a moment to compose myself. When I turned around, Arwyn was standing in the doorway.

“Is there anything I can do to make this easier or more comfortable for you?” she asked.

I thought about that. “I don’t think so. I’d just like to go do it so I can shake this jittery feeling and get back to reading.”

Smiling, she said, “I get that,” and started back down the short hall. “They have a spot picked out for you. If he’s still around, we think it has a good shot of being where he’ll prowl.”

Nick had a map pulled up in his phone. He and Arthur sketched out the plan. Face blank, I nodded, ignoring the pressure building in my chest. Arthur handed me a big, jagged-edged hunting knife in a sheath.

“Just in case,” he said. “Keep in your bag. We don’t want you defenseless out there.”

They laid out the plan and while I saw multiple flaws in it, it seemed doable. I worried I’d freeze when I needed to act, but I knew the only way I’d become the hero of my own story was to woman up and face the challenge I’d been given. I really hoped I survivedliving a little. If for no other reason than all the books I still had to read.

After they left, I locked up and turned off the lights. Closing early was becoming a habit. When I stepped into my room, my left hand twitched. Normally, this was when I’d put my book on my nightstand, but I’d left it downstairs. My head swam. I never forgot my books.

Shocked at myself, I went into the bathroom to shower off the evening’s scents. Instead of twisting my hair up in a bun, as I normally did, I dried it and left it long. I found an old pair of jeans that had been worn thin in spots and paired it with a long-sleeved thermal top. It was going to be cold where I was going.

Standing in the doorway of my closet, I stared down at red cowboy boots. Why did I own them? A momentary weakness. I saw them in a shop window a few months after my parents passed. I’d heard Mom’s voice in my head and bought them. Have I ever worn them? Of course not, but now seemed like a good time to start, as the truck man wore cowboy boots himself.

I slipped into them and then walked around my bedroom, feeling far too conspicuous. Why were they so loud? Okay, fine. I wasn’t going to let the noise bother me. I needed to get moving. I also needed something to cover any lingering owl scent.

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