Page 113 of The Spellreader and the Phoenix

[eye roll emoji] There are always reasons. But do you know what it’s like to feel like people you care about have been hiding everything from you?

Rory

Unfortunately, I’ve had to hide my entire life.

Tom

…

Fine. I’ll come. Just… don’t expect too much, okay?

Rory

Promise.

Despite his promise, Rory had kind of hoped that Tom would remember why he liked them when he saw them all again, but it didn’t look like that was the case. David also looked like someone had kicked his favorite kitten, and Sam looked like she couldn’t decide if she should be siding with Tom on principle. It felt awkward and off in a way that Rory really didn’t like. Most people had given Rory a hug, though, and they’d all assured him in person that they were glad he was alive and well.

Carefully, he explained to them, “I’m what’s called a mythical shifter. Extremely rare, and as you saw, in addition to being able to shift into an animal form, I’ve got another gift. I’m, uh, not really supposed to tell anyone but my mate.”

He smiled at Max, who smiled back, looking fond.

Catching Tom’s eye, Rory clarified, “Even in the magic community, many don’t believe in fated mates or soulmates, but I do. And one of the good things that came out of that near disaster was that Max agreed to be mine.”

Sam and Edward squeed a little, and Tom’s expression softened, though he was still standing to the side of the others.

“I’m sorry if I scared any of you,” Rory went on. “And I’m sorry that I had to keep something big from you. I didn’t feel like I had a choice. This is something we all learned from the earliest age. We’re safe because we’re secret.”

All of the witches and shifters were nodding along. Tom looked conflicted.

Rory shrugged. “Most people don’t deal well with something that’s different, and we are very much in the minority. Only the secret is out there now.” Rory cleared his throat. “I’m kind of supposed to flee now and leave you second-guessing yourselves. That’s what I did in the past, and that’s how some of our myths got started.” He reached his hand out for Max, and Max clasped it. “But I’m not about to leave Max, and I’m kind of hoping we’ll all get to keep playing D&D together. I realize I’m not exactly who I said I was, but I’m not not who I said I was, you know? I hid a part of myself, but the rest is all me.”

There was a chorus of agreement from the others, all of whom had been hiding part of themselves from the rest of the group—except for Tom, who was still a totally normal person who’d somehow fallen in with the rest of them. From the look on his face, he still wasn’t convinced that he belonged.

David looked like he wanted to explain himself some more, but Max stepped forward before he could, maybe because Tom looked a bit like he was going to bolt.

“Thank you for coming,” Max told them all. He pointed at the cluster of four boxes he’d piled on their D&D table. “I’m pretty sure these are the boxes our thief was searching for. So even if he hadn’t knocked over that pile of books—thank you, Nōwē—he wouldn’t have found them upstairs. But he would likely have done a lot of damage looking. The thief rolled over on the man who was actually behind this, Connor Arnold, but he is claiming that these were books that he was trying to get back for sentimental reasons following the death of his father, and the thief totally misunderstood what he’d been tasked to do.”

Everyone scoffed or rolled their eyes.

“Alright,” Max said. “Everybody take a box. Please treat the books with the respect they deserve. We have no idea what we’re looking for, but I hope we’ll know it when we see it.”

There were double the number of people as boxes, and Tom glared at everyone until they let him have a box of his own. Max, Rory, and Alex ended up sharing a box, then Stella and Sam, and finally David and Edward, though David kept darting desperate glances at Tom.

Since they didn’t know what they were looking for, they went through every book one by one. There was a mix of genres and types of books, though most were hardcovers. Nothing looked particularly expensive, though. This wasn’t a collection of first editions or anything like that. (Max usually appraised and processed those quickly.) But it was the collection of someone who’d liked books and took good care of them. None of the books looked damaged or dog-eared—there should be a particular place in hell reserved for people who deliberately damaged books—but some had neat bookplates or inscriptions.

Max said, “It’s been slowly coming back to me since I realized these were the books Connor was after. His sister, Bridget, is the one who dropped the books off. She’s got three kids and lives in a two-bedroom apartment and just didn’t have the space to keep all her dad’s books. She picked a few that meant the most to her but hoped that I’d be able to pass the rest on to someone else who’d love them. Meanwhile, her asshole brother has been harassing me, claiming he’s so attached to these books and they should be his. I know family stuff is complicated, but this guy gave off serious asshole vibes, so I told him to stuff it.”

Rory squeezed his arm. “With some rather unfortunate side effects.”

Max grimaced. “Yeah. But I’m not sure being more polite would have helped any. And honestly, I don’t want somebody who’d hire a thief who’d stab someone in the chest while he was trying to get a book back to get any books. It’s maybe not something I would have liked to actually die over, but I’m very glad he didn’t succeed.”

They all murmured an agreement. Rory was so glad he’d been there and been able to save his mate. He didn’t want to contemplate what would have happened if they hadn’t met yet. But that was the thing about believing in Magic or Fate or a force like that. Or even just coincidence, he supposed. They had met, and Rory had been there, and he chose to see that as being exactly what was supposed to happen.

About half of the books in their box looked like they’d been well read, while others looked nearly new. Rory was checking under dust jackets, reading inscriptions, and paging through the books to see if anything fell out. So far, there’d been a couple of bookmarks, but that was it.

Stella and Sam had pulled Edward into a discussion about romantasy versus fantasy with a romantic subplot, and Alex was now reading the back blurbs on some of the books. David was splitting his time between actually looking at his books and watching Tom, who was now looking at his phone. Then Tom looked up, his eyes huge.

“Um, guys,” he said. They all instantly quieted. He held up a lottery ticket. “This was being used as a bookmark. I just looked it up, and it’s a winning ticket.”