Portia had said she owned a nail salon that did car repairs. Was this place a combination hospital/veterinary clinic? Was that even a thing? The island was small, yes, but was itthatsmall?
The poor animal was whimpering and yelping as the gurney disappeared past the open door.
“What’s going on out there?” Travis asked, straining to see.
“Car accident,” the nurse replied, his arms filled with supplies. “A boy on vacation was hit while in his coyote form.”
A boy in his coyote form.His coyote form!I would’ve questioned whether I’d heard it correctly, but the nurse was a good enunciator. My heart was pounding so hard right now that I barely heard what Travis was saying.
“Is it serious?” he asked.
“He’ll be in good hands with Dr. Lasauvage,” the nurse called over his shoulder. “So please be patient. It may be a little while until he can get back to you.”
I turned to Travis. “What’s going on?”
His eyes were at half-mast due to the drugs. “We’ve seen it happen all too often with tourists. Especially shifter kids. They’re so excited they can roam freely on the island in their animal forms that they completely forget about traffic safety.”
I tried to swallow, but there was a huge lump of WTF lodged in my throat.
Shifters. Coyotes. Then I thought about the dire wolves in the ferry line. The boy who asked if George was my son. Carlisle, the blood-sucking doctor. Travis and his wolf blood.
My cheeks were getting hot, the little hairs on my arm standing on end.
I was on Darkaway Island.Where monsters come to play.
“Daphne,” Travis said groggily. “Are you…okay? You don’t look so well.”
I stared into his golden eyes, recalling his incredible strength and reflexes. His obsession with the moon.
Taking a step backwards, I slipped out of his reach, courtesy of his meds that had thankfully kicked in.
“I’m…I’m fine.” My voice sounded far away, as if I were inside a darkening tunnel. I needed to get out of here.Quickly. I’ve fainted before, so I knew the feeling well. You couldn’t talk yourself out of it, no matter how hard you tried.
Even though I was in a hospital, this was the last place on earth I’d want to pass out.
CHAPTER SIX
Daphne
Isat inside the coffee shop, cradling the ceramic cup as if it contained the elixir of life.
“I know, it must be shocking at first,” Sister Mary-Francis said in that kind, no-nonsense tone you’d expect from a nun who co-owned a coffee shop called Unholy Grounds. She wore navy-blue slacks, orthotic shoes, and a nun’s headscarf that only partially covered her gray hair. “But you’re handling it remarkably well.”
My hands, as well as my vanilla latte with a sprinkle of nutmeg, were shaking. I was also just this side of hyperventilating.
She thought I was handling it well?
Okay, so it wasn’t every day you learned that monsters were actually real. That the incredibly hot guy you’d impulsively kissed for saving you—and your cat—was not only engaged, but was also awerewolf.Oh yeah, and his doctor was a vampire. Plus, the fact that you were currently trapped on an island with all sorts of other supernatural creatures.
But then, maybe the Sisters were simply referring to the fact that I hadn’t had a serious cardiac event. Or become a drooling catatonic. Or gone stark-raving mad. All of which sounded semi-appealing right now.
I’d barely managed to exit Travis’s hospital room, ignoring him as he called after me. Thankfully, the Sisters were in the waiting room with George, just like they’d promised. Given the ashen look on my face and my incoherent mutterings, they’d wasted no time bringing me here to the coffee shop to, in Sister Elenor’s words, “chill and hang out.”
I dipped a finger into my latte foam and stuck it into George’s carrier at my feet. He licked it off with his sandpaper tongue. I wanted to snuggle him, but with customers going in and out the front door, I couldn’t take the chance that he wouldn’t want to be held and run off. That would throw a major monkey-wrench into my plans to get off the island.
The next ferry left in an hour, and I planned to be on it.
Sister Elenor set down a plate with a large cookie on a doily, then took a seat across from me. She also wore a simple scarf that framed the salt and pepper curls around her face, but unlike Sister Mary-Francis, she had on workout pants and running shoes. She reminded me of that nun who ran marathons.
