Fate sat elegantly on one of the thicker branches, dark clothes untouched by the wind, silver-threaded hair drifting around her like smoke. Beside her, Baba Yaga crunched noisily on something that might once have been a biscuit.
“You owe me five,” Baba Yaga muttered.
Fate sighed. “She noticed him faster than I expected.”
“She’s dragon-born,” Baba Yaga replied. “Instinctive creatures. Terrible at card games though.”
Below them, Edith continued swinging gently, blissfully unaware of the supernatural spectators critiquing her life choices from a tree. Nor did she notice the other watcher. Further back. Near the entrance to the park.
Spencer stood partially hidden beneath the shade of one of the trees, hands tucked into his coat pockets as he watched her carefully. He had followed at a distance after seeing her leave the path leading from Krakens Hollow.
Not close enough to threaten, just enough to observe. Which sounded significantly less concerning in his head. The wind shifted again, carrying her scent toward him.
Salt and magic combined with something wild beneath it. Spencer’s jaw tightened faintly.
Every instinct he possessed kept pulling him toward her, and he still didn’t know if that was a problem or not.
Below, the female he now knew as Edith slowed the swing to a stop, her trainers dragging lightly through the grass, She looked tired. Not physically. But soul-tired, the kind of exhaustion Spencer recognised far too well, her shoulders slumped slightly as she stared out over the bay.
“I can’t go back,” she whispered.
The words nearly vanished into the wind, onlySpencer heard them, and something in his chest twisted in response.
Above him, Fate smiled slightly.
“Oh dear,” she murmured.
Baba Yaga snorted. “About bloody time.”
20
Spencer knewthis was a bad idea, that alone should have stopped him and yet it didn’t. From where he stood beneath the trees, he watched Edith sitting on the swing, her trainers brushing lightly through the grass as she moved slowly back and forth. The wind toyed with her hair constantly, purple strands catching sunlight in flashes of silver and lilac that made it look almost unreal. Everything about her felt unreal, honestly, and not because she was magical. He hadmet countless magical beings.
No, it wasn’t that, it was the way she occupied space. Almost like she was trying very hard to seem smaller than she truly was, and Spencer understood that instinct far more than he wanted to. Below him, she let out a soft sigh, staring out over the bay.
“I can’t go back.” The words carried clearly on the wind. Spencer’s jaw tightened slightly.
Because there it was again. Not defiance but fear, real fear. The kind people carried in their bones.
That was when heshould have walked away. Gone back to the Ferret’s Mott and told Mark, made a plan to finish the job cleanly before things got any more complicated.
Instead, Spencer stepped forward, the gravel shifting faintly beneath his boots.
Edith went still instantly. The swing slowed, then it stopped. Her shoulders stiffened before she turned sharply toward him. Spencer stopped a few feet away, careful not to crowd her. Because she looked one wrong word away from either bolting or setting something on fire.
Possibly both.
“Before you threaten me again,” he said evenly, “I thought honesty might work better.”
Edith stared at him. Then her eyes narrowed slightly.
“Spencer? Isn’t it?” she stated.
The sound of his name on her lips hit him far harder than it should have and something deep in his chest reacted instantly. Which was deeply inconvenient, but he ignored it with years of practiced professionalism… Mostly.
“You know my name,” he observed.
Edith snorted softly. “You’re bounty hunters, not mythical cryptids. People talk.”
