Page 22 of The Vampire in the Potting Shed

Myrtle, who had curled her lip when she spied the great outdoors looming, insisted on being carried the whole way. I wasn’t sure if I was impressed she was that spoiled or annoyed that I was stuck playing her chauffeur. Either way, she didn’t otherwise complain as I lugged her up to the flat strip of rocky earth and plopped on my butt, legs dangling from the overhang.

That was, apparently, her limit. She wasn’t interested in heights or maybe it was the cuddling that did it. I let her go, and she walked to the end of her leash before sitting while Sloane joined me with a sigh.

“What are you going to do?”

“I have no idea.” I tipped my head back to admire the stars. “I loved that Brentwood wasn’t in pack territory. That alone limited the sentinels’ presence in the area. Now that’s bitten me on the butt.”

“Your aunt gave you the house,” she said slowly, considering. “And you bought the Victorian later?”

“Yeah.” I wasn’t sure I had ever told her, but downstairs would have been humming with the news. “The whole thing had felt like divine intervention. I turned twenty-one, got the news my mysterious aunt had left me a house in an area just farenough away from Dad I could breathe but still close enough he didn’t push back as hard as I expected since no one had formally claimed the territory, and I thought I was set.”

“You own the house and GSG. They’re legally yours. He can’t twist your arm and force you to sell them.”

“The new pack in town—aka the Walsh situation—doesn’t want me in Brentwood. So, either I bow out gracefully and rebuild somewhere else, or Dad throws down with our new neighbors and a lot of people get hurt because I didn’t want to give up my slice of freedom.”

Magic, thick and pungent, stung my nose, and I twisted around in time to see Myrtle explode into light.

About to lunge for her, to try to save her from whatever powers were at work, the brightness flicked off like a thrown switch, leaving us to gawk at the naked elderly woman sitting where Myrtle had been.

“You see this too, right?” I blinked a few times. “I didn’t have a stress-induced stroke?”

“I don’t have long,” the woman, who must have been in her sixties, shimmered with a dull glow.

Sloane palmed the charm that would allow her to shift in a blink if required to defend me.

“Who are you?” I kept my seat to give Sloane room to maneuver. “I’ve never seen a shift like that.”

“I’m Fayne Walsh.” She rubbed at her shiny arms. “I’m not a dog, usually. That just seemed like the best way in without attracting undo attention. People can be…intimidated…by my natural form, so I wove a spell to give me an alternate animal temporarily.”

“Wove a spell? But you’re a shifter.” I couldn’t wrap my head around it. “Shifters can’t cast spells.”

“Casting is for witches, darling,” she demurred, “and I’m not that.”

“What do you want?” Sloane clenched her fist over her own charm. “Why not shift before now?”

“I came to give you a message, but the wards on the town would have prevented me from shifting, and I couldn’t risk it where your guardians might see anyway. That would be as good as a declaration of war. No. It was safer to come in on four legs than two.”

“What are you talking about?” She had already lost me. “What wards?”

The Sartoris worked closely with witches, Dad was a big believer in using any advantage, but wards?

“Oh, Ana.” A slight pinch of her features betrayed her distress. “Of course you didn’t know.”

Cheeks prickling from being called out on my ignorance, I couldn’t find my voice to request the message.

“And that dog…” Sloane cocked her head. “You could have been anything and chosethat?”

“Hey.” I popped her arm out of habit. “No dog shaming.”

“Forget about the damn dog and listen to me.” Fayne’s eyes flashed icy blue. “Your father is not?—”

Warmth splattered across my face as Fayne slumped forward, almost landing in my lap.

Sloane got there first, not reaching for Fayne, but knocking me down and covering my body with hers.

“Someone shot her.” I pushed on Sloane’s shoulder, desperate to reach Fayne. “Forget about me?—”

“They could have been aiming for you.” She pinned me harder. “She was across fromyou.”

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