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“I don’t get why they’d go to all that trouble,” I said. “Is the community anti-Sup?”
“Not overtly,” Marian said. “There’s a vampire coven in the area, although they keep to themselves.”
“Ronan’s group,” I said.
Marian nodded. “You know him?”
I felt Connor’s curious stare. “Only that he keeps to himself. My father knows him, but not well. I didn’t think the coven wascloseted.” Or nothing my father had said had given me that impression.
“They aren’t. But it’s a small group, and they live several miles outside town. In my experience,” Marian said, “humans simply don’t think much about them. More odd neighbors than Sups. Which, frankly, is pretty much how humans saw the resort—an odd community.”
Nodding, I savored the last bite of soup, licked the spoon clean.
“More?” Marian asked, walking over and claiming a spot at the table with her mug.
“No, thank you. That was perfect.” And I didn’t want to slosh on the next part of the ride.
“The shifters don’t admit that’s the reason, of course,” Arne said. “That they want to keep their standing among the humans. They say the issue is privacy. If humans don’t know they’re shifters, humans won’t watch them, obsess over their magic, try to use them for it.”
“It’s probably a little of both,” Connor said, and glanced at me. “About a third of the Pack still passes for humans.”
“So many,” I said quietly. So many unable to be honest. Tied by circumstances, or decisions, to pretending. It bothered me more than I would have thought, probably in part because I’d been able to be an “obvious” vampire. There’d been no need to hide—and it wouldn’t have even been possible, given my parents’ fame.
“They spend a lot of time trying to hide who they are,” Marian said quietly. “We didn’t want our girls growing up like that, having to worry about every little thing they did or said, whether that would spill the secret. So we left, found a new community, and have been completely up-front.”
Arne nodded. “It seemed to us that if any parents were going to worry about their kids being friends with shifters, it would be easier to be be honest. For the parents to make a conscious decision.”
“Worked for us growing up,” Connor said. I think he’d meant to include me. And while he was partially right—my childhood had been as “normal” as my parents could make it—humans had a very different relationship with vampires than with shifters. Shifters were intriguing; vampires were dangerous.
“It’s worked pretty well here. A few parents opted out, but the girls have a really nice group of friends.” Marian fished the tea bag out of her mug, set it aside. “We’re happy here. And if we need to be with the clan, the Pack, we can go to Grand Bay.”
“And Grand Bay?” Connor asked. “What are you hearing from there?”
Marian’s brows lifted. “You should know, since you’re headed that way, no?”
“We are,” Connor said. “But it always seems wise to check.”
“You heard about Paisley?” Marian asked.
He frowned. “Who’s Paisley?”
“Young female shifter who died.” Marian turned her gaze toward Arne. “What’s it been, a couple of weeks now?”
“Thereabouts,” Arne said.
Marian nodded. “Hit-and-run,” she said, then sipped her tea. “She was walking or running—we aren’t sure—along the old main road, by the resort, when she was struck by a car. The car didn’t stop.”
“How did they find her?” I asked.
Marian sipped, nodded. “One of the clan elders, a man named Loren, had walked to a coffeehouse up the road and found her in the middle of it. It was a Saturday night, and Loren believed one of the locals imbibed too much, kept driving because they’d been drinking and knew there’d be a heavy price to pay.”
“What did the sheriff say?”
“Same conclusion,” Arne said, “as far as we’re aware. No one saw or heard the vehicle, and if any of the locals know anything about it, they aren’t talking.”
Marian nodded. “She was one of the younger shifters—the up-and-comers, you could say. The younger generation has tried to distance themselves from the clan’s elders.”
“In what ways?” Connor asked.
