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Jonathan cracked another smile. “Well, I shall leave ye to get settled. We don’t have laundry facilities onside, but you can dry your clothes by the fire. I’ll go pull the rest of your car out of the river.”
“Thanks, Jonathan. We’re so sorry for the trouble.”
“No trouble at all. Nothing is too much trouble for guests at Meddleworth.” Jonathan nodded as he exited the room.
As soon as the door shut I whirled around and let Quoth inside. He hopped down onto the floor and transformed into his human form.
“Brrrr.” He ran his hands through his damp hair. “There’s a real chill in the air out there. I think Jonathan’s right – a serious storm is coming.”
“You flew away from us when we were crossing the lawn. What did you see?” I asked Quoth as I started to peel off my ruined boots and squelchy socks.
“Ravens!” His voice trembled with wonder. “Down there beside the house. I can hear at least four of them, but I couldn’t see them from the air. Do you think I—”
“Go. I don’t need you for anything. Jonathan thinks you’re arriving later, anyway. Just be back here before we leave for dinner so you can change.”
Quoth kissed me on the cheek. “Thank you.”
I kept my hand on his shoulder as he transformed again. I loved feeling the way Quoth’s body shifted and changed – the bones rearranging themselves, his muscles twisting, the thick, soft black feathers punching through his skin.
Ever since the bookshop’s magic pulled him through into our world and made him this creature that could change forms, Quoth has thought himself an aberration – something that should not exist. But to me, he was a miracle.
A moment later, an enormous black bird with a distinctive frill around his neck hopped across the floor in front of me. He unfurled his wings and soared through the window, and I shut it behind him, blocking out the frigid air. I picked up Oscar’s harness again and wandered into the adjoining bedroom, where Morrie had already laid open our sodden suitcases and was inspecting his shirts.
“Thankfully, most of our clothing has survived unscathed.” Morrie hung up his designer clothing and glanced at the fancy watch on his wrist.
“Speak for yourself.” Heathcliff tossed soaking shirts from his battered old rucksack into a pile in front of the fireplace.
“I told you that you need to invest in decent luggage.” Morrie unbuttoned his wet shirt. “We have an hour until dinner. I hope that’s enough time to make me look presentable as the boyfriend of a soon-to-be bestselling author.”
“We don’t know that,” I said, trying to temper their enthusiasm even as my own heart pattered in my chest. “It’s the first book I’ve written and I don’t know if it’s any good—”
“I thought it was brilliant.” Heathcliff flicked a dark, damp curl from his forehead as he pulled a small leatherbound book from a compartment in his rucksack – seemingly the only part of his luggage that was waterproof. “And I have impeccable taste.”
“You do, but unfortunately, it’s Hugh Briston I need to impress.” I stepped out of my sodden peasant dress and flopped down on the bed to sort through the clothes I brought along, hunting for the dress I’d chosen for tonight. “But he must have liked it if he invited me to the retreat. Do you know that every year he offers one member of the retreat a publishing contract with Red Herring Press? I’m trying not to get my hopes up, but my hopes are already soaring away with Quoth.”
“So what’s the deal tonight?” Heathcliff closed his book with a sigh. He knew what I was like when I was excited. I wouldn’t be able to stop talking and fidgeting, and Morrie would only encourage me.
“The retreat members and their partners are invited to attend a reception with Hugh and select invited writers and publishing people in the music room, before a sit-down dinner. I already RSVPed for all of us.”
“Mina’s memorized the entire week’s schedule,” Morrie said with a knowing smirk in his voice.
“I have not.” My cheeks burned with heat.
I totally had.
My phone buzzed in my purse. I lunged at it, but Heathcliff kicked my purse out of the way.
“Don’t answer it,” Heathcliff growled.
“But I—”
“You’re supposed to be onholiday.”
“It’s probably Bree. The shop’s burning down and she—”
“If the shop is burning down, there’s nothing you can do about it from here. Live in ignorance and enjoy it.” Heathcliff glared at my purse, which was now vibrating its way across the rug.
“It could be my mother.”
