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Chapter Eight
"So the werewolves andshifters get along here?"
It was the second time he'd asked the question, still dubious of her affirmation. They were standing on the overlook, looking down at the crashing water, the town's titular creek meandering through residential yards and parks until it tumbled over the rock face in the middle of downtown in a lovely, dramatic display. They were eating ice cream from an old-fashioned little ice cream parlor that was on the square. She'd sheepishly admitted to never having visited the shop before as they crossed the threshold, arm-in-arm.
"But I've been to their scoop truck a bunch of times, at the Maker's Mart. It's every Saturday morning, right over there in the municipal lot. You're going to have to come visit me at my table, I sign up CSA subscriptions, and one of the girls from the farmstand sells foodstuff."
"This is all so . . . idyllic. It’s almost creepy. I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop. There has to be some weird cult or something, right? Everything is very crunchy and collaborative, but then someone gets sacrificed in the town square every third full moon to keep everyone happy, is that it?"
She dissolved into giggles, batting at his arm playfully.
"No! Yes, the werewolves and shifters get along here. No, there are no cult sacrifices! I can't help it if you only ever lived in the city and aren't used to small town living."
"It's not that I only lived in cities, far from it," he shrugged, devouring the rest of his cone. "I'm just not used to people beingnice. It's weird."
Grace glanced over at him, expecting to see him grinning in jest, frowning when he seemed completely serious.
She had met him at the school, where he gave her a short tour of the facility he worked in. She’d hardly been able to pay attention to the lab they walked through or the tanks of convalescing animals they passed in an outdoor section. All she could focus on was the sight of him in his lab coat. It was a typical lab coat, nothing unusual or exceptional about it, and that was what was so disturbing. It was the same lab coat a human might've worn, worn backwards over his arms, leaving his wings free. His name was stitched over the area that should have been the back of the right shoulder, hitting him on the upper left side of his chest. He had modified the front, cutting down the center so that he wasn't choked by the collar, and she was discomfited at the sight of him wearing it.
"They give you that when you started here?" she'd asked casually, as they'd walked back to his office, gesturing to the lab coat.
"Hmm? Oh, no, this is mine. From two facilities ago, I think? I'll probably need a new one soon, they fray pretty quickly, unfortunately. I should probably have one fixed up after I cut down the front, to keep the unfinished hem from unraveling."
He seemed to think nothing of having a coat that was not designed for his body type, for his species, one that barely fit him and had to be cut open just to accommodate his thick mantle of fluff. She didn't like the uncomfortable creep of knowing when she imagined how he must've been treated at his previous places of employment. The handful of times she and the girls went to dinner in Bridgeton, Grace would leave the restaurant wondering if she'd not been present, if they would've been served at all. The city teemed with goblins and trolls, satyrs and orcs filling in the gaps, but they seemed oddly invisible in predominantly human settings, and she wondered if that's how he had always existed in his labs.
"I think a new lab coat is an excellent idea," she said decisively, but he'd seemed oblivious, and they'd left the campus shortly after.
"I already told you, werewolves and shifters founded the town together. There was a group of founding families, and they ran everything for decades. Only two of them are left, for the most part, and of the two, only one is still in any sort of position of power. One of them is probably going to be the new mayor soon."
"And they don't mind that orcs and goblins moved into the town they started? Are yousure? Did someone ask them?"
Grace pressed her lips together, giving him alook, and he chuckled again, rich and low in response. He seemed determined to poke holes in her assertion that Cambric Creek was welcoming to all species, unlike the mostly human towns and cities and villages where he'd previously been employed.
"I'm just asking!"
"No," she huffed, trying not to smile as he continued to laugh. "I've already told you a hundred times. No, they don't care."
When they'd stepped through the doors of the ice cream parlor, her eyes had gone up to the board, looking over the dozens and dozens of flavors listed. She had no idea what a mothman might enjoy, unsure if she ought to make suggestions or not.
"Oh . . . oh look, they have aphid mint! That sounds interesting. I wonder what's in that."
Merrick cocked an eyebrow, looking at her askance.
"I'm assuming it has aphids. And mint. Probably for the amphibians. Is-is that what you're going to order?" She'd squeaked her protest, and he'd barely been able to hide his twitching smile. "Who knows? Might be good. You should try it if it caught your eye, Grace."
They were next in line at that point, the cheerful goblin behind the counter asking if they had made up their minds on their flavors.
"I'm going to have the non dairy caramel crunch, single scoop, waffle cone. My beautiful companion here is contemplating the aphid mint, but I have a feeling she's going to go with something else."
She had been as red as a tomato when they'd walked out of the shop, her cherry chocolate chip cone already beginning to drip.
"Aphid mint," he'd shaken his head, snorting in laughter as she swatted at his arm.
"How was I supposed to know!" she'd whined. "I'm your first human, but you're my first mothman! I don't know what you eat! I just wanted you to order something you'd be comfortable with!"
". . . Aphid mint!"
If nothing else, her faux pas had broken the ice of the afternoon, and her fingers had been knitted securely with his since then. They'd walked the length of the towpath, following the meandering Creek to the waterfall's overlook, where they now stood.
