Page 38 of Furever Bound
He didn't need to finish the sentence. Failure meant losing Sera, losing their sanctuary, and losing any hope of maintaining the delicate balance they'd built between supernatural community and mundane world.
As the Council dispersed to prepare for whatever tomorrow night would bring, Maddox realized that protecting his mate had evolved beyond personal attachment into defending the right of supernatural communities to exist without government oversight—and that the cost of failure extended far beyond individual heartbreak into the destruction of everything they'd worked to preserve.
But looking up at the October moon that would be full tomorrow night, he also realized that some risks were worth taking when the alternative was surrendering everything that made life worth living.
28
SERA
The warmth of The Griddle & Grind felt like sanctuary as Sera wrapped her hands around a steaming mug of Twyla's special blend, watching through the café's windows as federal agents continued their systematic documentation of Hollow Oak. The autumn afternoon had grown overcast, with heavy clouds threatening the first snow of the season and adding to the oppressive atmosphere that had settled over the town like a suffocating blanket.
"They've been at it for six hours," Miriam observed from her corner table, where she was pointedly knitting what appeared to be an ordinary scarf but occasionally whispered words that made the yarn shimmer with protective energy. "Persistent little bureaucrats, aren't they?"
"Persistent and thorough," Sera replied, noting how the elderly woman's fingers moved in patterns that suggested spell work rather than simple crafting. "Elena's not taking any chances this time."
Twyla emerged from behind the counter with a plate of cinnamon rolls that smelled like comfort, her ageless featuresreflecting concern that felt maternal despite their similar apparent ages.
"Eat," she ordered with gentle authority. "You'll need your strength for whatever tonight brings, and you've barely touched food since this morning."
The motherly attention was almost foreign to Sera. In her old life, care had come with conditions and expectations, relationships measured by professional utility rather than genuine affection. Here, people worried about her welfare simply because she'd become part of their community.
"Twyla," she said quietly, lowering her voice so the federal agents visible through the windows couldn't potentially overhear, "how long have you known about my abilities?"
"Since the moment you walked into my café," Twyla replied with a knowing smile that suggested supernatural perception rather than lucky guessing. "Psychic sensitivity has a particular resonance that those of us with fae blood recognize immediately."
"Fae blood?" Sera blinked in surprise, though it explained Twyla's ageless beauty and uncanny ability to brew exactly what people needed.
"Enough to recognize gift when I see it, enough to understand that your abilities are remarkable rather than dangerous," Twyla continued, settling into the chair with feline grace. "Elena's federal colleagues see weapons where they should see wonder."
Through the windows, Sera watched two agents questioning Edgar Tansley outside the mercantile, their professional politeness unable to disguise bureaucratic determination to extract information he clearly had no intention of providing. His responses appeared helpful while revealing absolutely nothing useful, a masterclass in small-town resistance to government overreach.
"How are people handling this?" she asked, guilt making her voice rough with self-recrimination. "The investigation, the federal presence, the threat to everything they've built here?"
"With typical mountain stubbornness," Miriam said with savage satisfaction, her knitting needles clicking in rhythms that definitely involved supernatural enhancement. "We've weathered government interference before, dear. This isn't our first encounter with bureaucrats who think they understand forces beyond their comprehension."
"But it's the first time the interference is my fault.”
"Your fault?" Twyla's laugh carried genuine amusement. "Child, Elena's been looking for excuses to gain control of abilities here since Maddox moved here. If it hadn't been your viral content, it would have been something else eventually."
"Something else that didn't expose an entire town to investigation and potential relocation," Sera argued, though the older women's matter-of-fact acceptance of crisis helped ease some of her guilt.
"Something else that wouldn't have brought us exactly the catalyst we needed to resolve problems that have been building," Miriam corrected with the sharp intelligence that made her more formidable than her grandmother appearance suggested. "Your abilities aren't just affecting Grimjaw, dear. They're affecting the entire supernatural ecosystem in ways that could prove beneficial if handled properly."
The observation caught Sera's attention with implications she hadn't considered. "Affecting how?"
"Stronger protective barriers, enhanced communication between species, increased community cohesion in response to external threats," Twyla explained with academic precision that suggested extensive observation. "Your psychic energy is amplifying existing supernatural connections rather than just manifesting individual entities."
"Like a supernatural wifi booster," Sera said with dark humor that made both women smile despite the true topic.
"More like a harmonic resonance that strengthens the bonds holding this community together," Mrs. Johnson corrected gently. "Which is exactly what we'll need if tonight's communication attempt is going to succeed."
The mention of her planned psychic contact with Grimjaw made Sera's stomach clench with anticipation and terror in equal measure. Today was Halloween, when the barriers between worlds grew thin and supernatural activity reached its peak. Perfect conditions for unprecedented manifestation communication, assuming she survived the attempt.
"Are you afraid?" Twyla asked with maternal concern that cut through Sera's defensive barriers.
"Terrified," she admitted honestly. "Not just of potential failure or personal danger, but of letting down people who've become family in ways I never expected."
"Fear is sensible when facing unknown supernatural forces," Miriam observed with practical wisdom. "But remember that you won't be facing them alone. This community protects its own, especially when 'its own' includes someone brave enough to risk everything for others' safety."
