“You work for one,” I reason.
“I don’t work for her. We have the mutual displeasure of working together. Believe me, it’s not something I enjoy.”
I again try to tell if he’s being truthful, but I can’t. “Why work with her at all then?”
“The witches need to be kept in line, and I’m the one who has to do it, for now,” Gunnar replies.
“Wait, didn’t you say a coven ambushed you? That’s how you ended up hurt here.” I look at the others for confirmation. “A witch’s coven?”
“Yes.” Gunnar scowls and I hear a distinct snicker from Calix.
A loaf of bread goes sailing right over the spot Calix’s head was moments earlier and splats into the wall. The bag explodes on contact, sending crumbs and slices of bread to the floor. Calix pops right back up and puts another roast into the freezer.
“Not all covens take kindly to being watched,” Gunnar continues, as if uninterrupted. “I got a little lazy,” he admits, while brushing is hands together. “But rest assured, I took care of that threat.”
“A little lazy? Last I heard, you haven’t even left the city in years. You’ve been sending your men out to keep an eye on the other covens,” Calix challenges.
“Vanessa’s coven is one of the largest in the country. Hers is the gauge which the others in the region use as a guide,” Gunnar defends indignantly.
“And it had nothing to do with the fact that you didn’t want to get too far away from Damiana?” Calix taunts.
Gunnar takes a step toward Calix. “Knock it off.” I slap my hand on the top of the island. The sting on my palm is welcome.
Gunnar levels a nasty look at Calix but resumes putting away the groceries as if he’s accustomed to the domestic task.
I feel the heat of Grim’s arm as he lays it across the back of my stool. “While we were chosen to be your guardians, we also have other duties,” he adds.
“I can pretty much guess yours.” I give him a little snort. “What about you, Calix?”
“I keep the beasts in line.” He leans his hip against the island. “The largest shifter population is in Russia, so that’s where I spend most of my time.”
“Lion: king of not just the jungle, huh?” I joke.
Calix preens under my gaze, straightening his back and licking his lips. “Yes, my queen.”
“Give me a break,” Gunnar barks.
I giggle. “So what sorts of shifters are there?”
Calix takes a deep breath and looks up at the ceiling in thought. “Wolves have the largest numbers, bears, hyenas, all kinds of cats.” He shrugs. “There are more, but those are the most dangerous predators. Then there are the others, like me and the dragons, but we’re not the same. We’re born, not turned.”
My mind is spinning with all this new information. Witches and shifters are real. How many other supernatural beings are there? “How come I don’t know any of this? How is it I’ve seen Will-o’-the-Wisps and Wraiths, but I had no clue about Berserkers and Newmans like you?”
Gunnar snorts.
“Nemean lions,” Calix corrects.
“You should have grown up without any of this knowledge,” Grim states from beside me. “It’s my fault the nightmares come to you.” His eyes meet mine.
“What do you mean?” I turn in my seat so I can see him better.
“You called to me as a child, a babe.” Grim’s voice dips lower, as if he’s divulging a secret. “Your soul called me. You were dying.”
“What?” Calix gasps in disbelief.
“Why didn’t you tell us this?” Gunnar snaps.
Grim ignores him and answers my silent questions. “You really were starving to death.” He reaches out and slowly smooths his finger over my cheek. I’m too shocked to even try to stop him. “I couldn’t let you die.” The embers of fire begin to glow within Grim’s eyes. “I tethered your soul to your body, making it impossible for anything to kill you. But there was a cost.”
