"The situation with my aunt's spell?" she asks.
Laz nods. "That and the situation with you living here. It's unprecedented. Full mortals don't live on the island." My hound stirs, not liking how Laz is phrasing this.
"It's not like it's her fault, Laz," Amy points out. He swipes a hand over his face. He has dark circles under his eyes, and his skin looks pale. More worn out than I've ever seen him. It occurs to me that he built the original wards, and I can't know how their disruption has affected him.
"I know it's not your fault," he says to Ivy. "But I'm a mayor, not a king. The residents have never had to deal with a human on this island. They need a say in how this is handled."
Ivy nods, but I still don't like it. This feels like an ambush, and I don't need it on top of everything else already trying to get to her. The violent monsters are one thing, but an angry city council is a whole different kind of monster.
Ivy
Conall is staying close to me at all times. I didn't realize that this whole protection contract meant we'd basically be joined at the hip. When I ask again why he can't watch from across the street as he did before, he points out that I almost got eaten by a mimic, and I did get bitten by a baby magical snake.
I focus on feeling irritated, so I don't focus the other things I've started noticing about him. Like how the dimples in his cheeks become more pronounced when he smiles even a little. Or like how he angles himself between me and anything he even slightly perceives as a threat. I remind myself it's just part of his job, but as someone who has always been her own primary caregiver, it catches me off guard in a way I wasn't prepared for. Not to mention that when the store got busy, he just started working, helping customers find things—including things I'd never heard of, like wormwood. Then he brought me lunch from the café, and I'd snapped at him, asking what his deal was. He'd smirked and told me to eat my food.
So now I'm thoroughly confused. Half the time, Conall acts completely annoyed by my presence. The other half, he acts like he actually has a beating heart under that greenish skin.
The city council meeting is after work. The sun is near the horizon, scattering light across the lake and turning everything softly golden. A breeze rustles the trees. A man with a human body from the waist up and a horse's torso below clops from one lamp post to the next, lighting each. From a certain romance novel I just read I know that it’s a centaur. Conall is close enough that if I move my hand an inch to the right, I'd graze his.
I don't.
"So, what's the deal with the electricity?" I ask, watching the flames catch inside the old street lamps.
Conall shoves his hands deep into his pockets, as if he'd just noticed how close they were to mine. "Part of why monsters shouldn't live in tight-knit groups near humans. Magic, which all monsters have in some form, really messes with electronics, motors, and computer chips. Anything digital too."
I nod, a thought clicking into place.
"There's a tourist island not far from here. Mackinac. No cars."
Conall smirks. "Ten points for Freckles."
I shouldn't feel as pleased as I do, but I can't help it. It warms me all the way to my toes.
"Yeah, the island's too close to not be affected,” he goes on, “but not close enough for full blackouts like here. They've played the no-cars thing off as a gimmick, but the truth is, it's the machine that gets hit hardest from afar."
I stare. My brain has absorbed more information in the last twenty-four hours than it was ever meant to hold.
"So that's why the electricity sometimes works and sometimes doesn't?"
He nods. "There should be a way to stabilize everything but Laz has never been able to find it."
"I wish he would. I've completely wrecked my streak on Cup Bash." His eyebrow raises. "It's a gameon my phone."
The side of his mouth ticks up and a dimple peeks out. I'd never found dimples attractive before, but on his square jaw and face it's working.
"Do you think they're going to kick me off the island?" I ask.
Both eyebrows hit his hairline. "Do you care? It's not like you've been thrilled to find yourself surrounded by us." He gestures vaguely at his claws, his tail, the general greenness.
I avoid his eyes, heat rising to my cheeks. "I may have been a little judgmental when I first found out." He snorts. "It's not like anything prepares you for this," I point out.
He sighs at the sky, all color from the sunset. "I guess that's fair."
The soft concession surprises me. It nudges me toward the other truth, the one I've been holding closer to the vest.
"I can't really leave the island,” I say, and his eyes slant toward me without turning his head. "I don't really have anything to go back to."
His jaw tightens. "What do you mean?"
