Back in her recliner, she pulled up the manuscript on her Kindle. Mozart immediately reclaimed his spot on her lap whileBach draped himself across the chair's headrest. The familiar weight of her cats and the warmth of her tea created the perfect reading atmosphere.
One last review before sending it to her beta readers. She smiled, remembering how much easier the writing process had been without constant pain interrupting her concentration.
The late afternoonsun slanted through her windows, casting long shadows across her living room, before Mandy set her Kindle aside and stretched, her muscles protesting after hours of stillness. Mozart grumbled at being disturbed from his spot on her lap, while Bach merely yawned from his perch on the chair's headrest.
"Sorry boys, but Mommy needs to move," she murmured, carefully shifting Mozart to the warm spot she'd vacated.
The manuscript was ready. She'd caught a few minor continuity errors, marked several spots where descriptions needed tightening, but overall, the story held together beautifully. Not having to deal with constant pain while writing had made such a difference in her process.
Reaching for the remote, she turned on the news, keeping the volume low. More coverage of the shapeshifter revelation filled the screen - experts debating, interviews with people claiming to have always suspected their neighbors were "different," endless speculation about what other supernatural beings might exist.
As the news anchor's voice droned on about congressional hearings and international responses to the shapeshifter revelation, she thought of Kieran and Jacinth, both caught up in the whirlwind of political and social upheaval this revelation had caused. The High Council must be in constant session, tryingto manage the fallout. She hoped they were handling the stress okay, especially Jacinth with her family to consider.
Mandy smiled, remembering her lunch with Lena yesterday at the little Mexican restaurant they'd discovered. The chile rellenos had been amazing as always, but the gossip had been even better.
"You'll never believe who's going public next week," Lena had whispered, leaning across their shared plate of sopapillas. Her brown eyes sparkled with barely contained mirth.
"Someone in Tucson?" Mandy had perked up immediately. So far, their city had remained quiet while shifters across the country revealed themselves.
"Mrs. Atkinson from the library!" Lena could barely contain her giggles. "You know, the one who runs the children's story hour?"
Mandy's jaw had dropped. "The sweet little old lady that gets all the newspaper write-ups?" She'd seen Mrs. Atkinson around town occasionally, always impeccably dressed in her pastel cardigans and sensible shoes.
"She's a ring-tailed lemur!" Lena had dissolved into laughter at Mandy's expression. "Can you imagine?"
The mental image of the elderly librarian transforming into a lemur during story hour made Mandy laugh all over again now. Mrs. Atkinson had to be pushing eighty, yet according to Lena, she was still as spry and energetic as ever - in both forms.
"She says she's tired of hiding," Lena had explained between giggles. "Says at her age, she doesn't care what anyone thinks anymore. She just wants to be herself."
Mandy snickered, picturing the chaos that would erupt at the next children's story hour. "Those kids are going to go absolutely nuts when they find out. Can you imagine? "
The mental image of dignified Mrs. Atkinson, with her perfectly coiffed white hair and pastel cardigans, transforminginto a ring-tailed lemur while perched on her usual storytelling chair was almost too much. She could almost hear the excited squeals and shouts from the children: "Do it again! Do it again!"
"Story time will never be the same," Mandy mused, shaking her head.
Lena nodded, grinning. "Dean says it's brilliant. I mean, who's going to grab pitchforks and torches over sweet Mrs. Atkinson? The scariest thing about her is how she'll chase you down if you have an overdue book."
"And right now might be perfect," Lena added, wiping honey from her fingers. "People are calming down after that Yellowstone mess. Plus, once everyone realizes their favorite librarian's been a shifter all this time..." She shrugged. "Makes it harder to buy into all those conspiracy theories floating around."
"Have you heard from Jacinth lately?" Lena asked, stirring her iced tea. "Or Kieran?"
Mandy shook her head, her hand unconsciously rising to touch the pendant at her throat. The familiar warmth pulsed against her fingers, but it wasn't quite the same as having him there.
"Not much, since everything happened with the shifter revelation," she admitted. "I know they must be incredibly busy with all the Council meetings." Her fingers traced the delicate metalwork of the pendant. "Jacinth sent me a quick text the other day - just a string of exhausted-looking emojis. You know they have the whole community there, since that one Maine Coon shifter - Katerina Kazakis, the famous fashion designer - went public on a talk show."
But it was Kieran she found herself missing most, though she could barely admit it to herself. The way his presence filled her small apartment, making it seem like something from an Arabian palace when he conjured his elaborate tea service.Even his formal manner and careful precision had become... endearing.
Of course she missed Jacinth, too, but it washimher heart ached for - his quiet strength, his unexpected moments of dry humor, the way his eyes would crinkle slightly at the corners when something amused him. But she couldn't quite bring herself to say that out loud.
The pendant warmed against her skin, as if responding to her thoughts. She wondered if he could sense when she thought about him, then immediately felt foolish for even considering it. He was probably far too busy with important Council matters to spare any thought for one ordinary human woman with his vessel.
Mandy jolted awake,her body protesting with familiar aches that made her groan. Not the old pain - this was different. Her throat felt scratchy, and her muscles carried that telltale soreness that usually preceded getting sick. She looked at the clock on her bedside - 2 AM.
"No, no, no," she muttered, carefully extracting herself from between Mozart and Bach. The cats made sleepy sounds of protest as she stumbled to the bathroom, flicking on the harsh fluorescent light.
Her medicine cabinet yielded a bottle of aspirin. She shook out two tablets, then made her way to the kitchen where she poured a glass of orange juice. The cold liquid felt good on her throat as she swallowed the pills.
Back in the bathroom, she uncapped the Listerine and took a generous mouthful, swishing the antiseptic liquid vigorously. The mint burned against her tender throat, the taste clashinghorribly with the lingering orange juice. But she'd learned years ago that sometimes catching these things early made the difference between a minor inconvenience and a week in bed.
