"This gentleman is looking for information about a guest," Angus explained, his eyes never leaving the man, watching him like a hawk eyeing its prey.
The stranger shifted uncomfortably under their combined gaze, his confidence visibly wilting. "Alright, I'll level with you. I'm an investigative reporter. I'm trying to track down the woman from the Yosemite video. I have reason to believe she stayed here, and this could be the story of the century."
Renee's eyes narrowed, her warm demeanor cooling rapidly. "Even if we had such information, we wouldn't share it with you. Our guests' privacy is paramount. It's not just policy; it's a matter of trust and respect."
"But the public has a right to know-"
"The public has no rights regarding our guests," Angus interrupted firmly, his voice as unyielding as an oak tree. "Now, unless you'd like to book a room and enjoy our hospitalityproperly - and before you ask, we're full up - I'm going to ask you to leave. Immediately."
The reporter's face flushed with frustration, a crimson tide rising from his neck to his hairline. He opened his mouth to argue, then thought better of it as he caught the steely glint in Angus's eye. With a huff that sounded like a deflating balloon, he turned on his heel and stormed out of the inn, the door slamming shut behind him.
As the echoes of his departure faded, Renee and Angus exchanged a meaningful look, years of partnership allowing them to communicate volumes without a word.
"I don't think we've seen the last of him," Renee murmured. "He had that look in his eye. Like a dog with a bone."
Angus nodded grimly, his jaw set in determination. "We'll need to warn Harper. And perhaps it's time to strengthen our wards. Just in case."
"At any rate, that man isn't getting back on our property," Renee said with satisfaction, and they exchanged pleased glances.
Harper saton a weathered park bench, basking in the dappled sunlight filtering through the rustling canopy above. She unwrapped her sandwich, savoring the tranquil atmosphere of her lunch break away from the bank's bustling confines. A slight breeze relieved the heat of the day, and carried the scent of flowers.
Her reverie shattered as her phone buzzed against her thigh, startling her. Renee's name flashed on the screen. Harper'sbrow furrowed, trying to remember if Renee had ever called her before. A tendril of unease curling in her stomach as she answered, "Hello?"
"Harper, it's Renee." The innkeeper's voice came through, tight with an undercurrent of concern that set Harper's nerves on edge. "I need to alert you to a situation."
As Renee recounted the encounter with the persistent reporter, Harper's appetite vanished like morning mist. Her sandwich lay forgotten on her lap, the once-appetizing meal now as appealing as cardboard. Her free hand clenched into a tight fist, nails digging half-moons into her palm.
"He seemed quite determined," Renee concluded, her words hanging heavy in the air between them. "I thought you should know. We're taking precautions at the inn, but please be on your guard."
Harper's stomach churned, a cold sweat breaking out across her skin and sending a shiver down her spine despite the warm sunlight. "Thank you for telling me," she managed, her voice barely above a whisper, throat constricting around the words.
After ending the call, Harper stared blankly at the park around her, unseeing. The once-peaceful scene now felt exposed, vulnerable. Every passerby morphed into a potential threat in her mind's eye, as if the determined reporter might be lurking behind any tree or bush, camera at the ready.
The thought of being thrust into the spotlight made her skin crawl, her fox nature recoiling at the idea of exposure. It wasn't just about being outed as a shapeshifter - that secret had already escaped. It was the scrutiny, the probing questions, the invasion of privacy that would come with being identified as the fox from Yosemite. Her new life suddenly felt fragile.
Harper's mind raced with memories of the chaos after the viral video. She'd fled San Francisco, abandoning everything forrefuge in this new community. Now, that sanctuary seemed to be crumbling beneath her feet.
She didn't bother to look at her phone to see if her lunch break was over. She needed to get out of sight. She hurried back to the bank, but even so, each step felt leaden, weighed down by apprehension. The bustling sidewalk seemed to close in around her, every face a potential threat. By the time she reached her office, her heart pounded like a trapped bird in her chest.
Closing the door behind her, Harper leaned against it, eyes shut tight. She took a deep breath, trying to calm her frayed nerves. When she opened her eyes, her gaze fell on her phone, and a decision crystallized.
Jacinth. The djinn's magic might be able to help her. She hated -hated!- having to ask anyone for help, but she felt absolutely shattered at the thought of having her identity revealed.
With trembling fingers, Harper scrolled to find Jacinth's number. As the phone rang, she paced her small office, fighting the urge to shift and bolt for the nearest exit.
"Hello?" Jacinth's cheerful voice answered.
"Jacinth, it's Harper," she whispered, glancing nervously at her closed door as her heart hammered against her ribs. "I need your help. There's a reporter... he's tracking me down. Looking for the fox in those Yosemite videos. I don't know how he managed it, but he knows I'm the fox. Renee called to warn me. He went to the inn, looking for me. " Her voice cracked on the last words, and she wrapped one arm around her middle, her stomach churning.
"What a scumbag!" Jacinth's voice sizzled through the phone, brimming with outrage. Her indignation crackled like static electricity. "Those paparazzi have absolutely zero respect for the concept of privacy, and someone's desire for anonymity."
The vehemence in her voice made Harper flinch, even though the fury wasn't directed at her. She could almost picture the Djinn's dark eyes flashing with indignation, her delicate features contorted in a rare display of wrath. Still, she felt a surge of relief at Jacinth's outrage. She wasn't alone in this.
Harper nodded, even though Jacinth couldn't see her. "I just... I don't know what to do," she admitted, her voice small. "Suddenly everyone is a potential threat, I feel hunted, like I'm some kind of prey animal being stalked. All I want is to burrow away somewhere dark and safe and never come out." She had to take a moment to breathe, her throat tight. "But that's not realistic. I need my job, need to keep going somehow. "
"Don't you worry." Jacinth's tone softened, though the steel of determination remained. "I'll come to your apartment this evening and put up magical wards. And in the meantime, I'll speak with Angus and Renee. We'll come up with a plan of action. This reporter won't know what hit him."
A glimmer of hope sparked in Harper's chest. "Really? You think we can stop him?"
