Grant turned and began to gather the plates from the cupboards. His movements were quick and practiced. He liked to be useful, Cleo knew. She never minded because she was the same.
“You’re real comfortable here, aren’t you?” Ian growled from behind Cleo. She jumped. She hadn’t realized he’d moved behind her.
Grant shot a questioning glance at Cleo. “I guess? Cleo is a great friend.”
Cleo hadn’t anticipated that. She hadn’t been a great friend. She’d been distant and reserved, hadn’t she?
Apparently Ian agreed with her. “Cleo doesn’t have friends.”
Ouch. It was true, but still, that hurt.
Granted pulled himself to his full, towering height. He was lean, but taller than Ian, and apparently could use that to his advantage. Grant drew a breath, about to say something in response, but Cleo cut him off. She had to diffuse the escalating anger in the room.
“Thanks, Ian,” she said drily. Ian looked chagrined, but resolute. His chin was still high. “Listen, Ian, we don’t have enough seating for you tonight. Would you mind going home and grabbing a lawn chair really quick or something? It’d be a long time on your feet.”
“I don’t mind,” Ian started.
Cleo’s jaw clenched so hard, she felt a vein pop out of her forehead. “Ian. Go. Get. A. Lawn chair.”
Ian looked between her and Grant. Grant shrugged and turned his back to Ian and started gathering silverware. Brave of him, but stupid. Ian bristled with anger. With a frustrated huff and grunt, he strode out the back door, hitting the screen harder than necessary.
“That your boyfriend?” Grant asked into the uncomfortable silence.
Cleo gave a mangled laugh. “No.” A few kisses didn’t mean much, right? She wasn’t sure what they were, but he was definitely not her boyfriend.
Grant’s face was carefully non-committal. “Huh,” was all he said.
She received the others, Agnes first. Mariana walked in the door, Ian close behind him.
Mari said hello to him, giving Cleo a sideways look.
Waiting for Sophie’s perennially late ass was a master class in awkward. They all munched on Grant’s bread. Cleo ate more than she usually did, using the excuse of food in her mouth to avoid talking. Mari tried to ask Ian all the polite questions one asks a stranger, and he answered in short, gruff responses that edged towards rudeness. He kept shooting glances at Grant. Mari gave up and like Cleo, just ate bread.
When Sophie finally showed, the atmosphere was tense. Cleo had never seen people chew with so much determined intensity.
Sophie came in the house, read the room, her eyes zeroing in on Ian. Her head tipped contemplatively.
“You’re not human, are you?” she said.
If Ian had been a bird instead of a bear, all his feathers would’ve ruffled.
“You’re not exactly normal yourself, are you?” he asked.
Sophie shook her head. “That came out wrong. I’m sorry. I meant to say, you’re something more than human, aren’t you? There’s something… I don’t know.”
Ian lumbered over to Cleo, standing close. “This is Ian, everyone,” Cleo said. “He’s just here to observe.”
Ian was quiet behind her. Cleo wasn’t sure if she could say he was a shifter. It wasn’t her story to tell, and she assumed that shifters kept on the downlow like witches did. Too much attention invited all sorts of nasty consequences, the least of which involved laboratories.
Cleo gestured to Ian, inviting him to speak.
Ian paused, gathering his thoughts. “I’m a bear,” he said. His shoulders were very straight.
“I don’t suppose you mean, you know, like gay bears?” Mari asked faintly.
“Not exactly,” Ian almost half-smiled at that.
Grant looked contemplative. Sophie seemed smug; Agnes’s eyes were wide circles of shock. Mari, however, just closed her eyes and blew air through her nose.
“You know shifters,” Ian said to Mari. She smirked, her eyes still closed.
“What?” screeched Sophie and Agnes in unison.
“Story for a different day, guys,” said Mari. “Ian, what interest does your packmaster have in our coven? We don’t have much to offer…” she trailed off and looked at Sophie and Cleo. “Oh, I see.”
“I don’t,” said Cleo.
“See what,” Sophie said. Her voice was still slightly screechy, and Ian winced.
Mari shook her head. “I’ll let Ian explain, in case I’m wrong.”
“No pack. My aunt has a coven, though, and they’re interested in you. It’s unusual for a coven to be balanced in the elements, particularly earth and air together,” Ian explained. Cleo waited for the rest of the explanation, but Ian just stood there.
Mari signed. “Threat assessment, guys. This coven wants to know if we’re a threat or an asset.”
Cleo whirled at Ian. “Or what? How could we be a threat to you?”
Ian’s eyes shifted, ‘You aren’t a threat. The coven just wanted to see who we’d be helping with the curse.”
“Your pack will help with the mirror?” Mari asked skeptically.
“That,” Ian said and hesitated.
“And my curse, too,” Cleo said tiredly.
The room was quiet, then exploded into sound.
Chapter Fifteen
Cleo wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting - actually, that was a lie. She expected rejection. Anger at her lies by omission. Fear of contamination. Broken trust. Slamming doors. Awkwardly ignoring people at the grocery store.
Instead, Sophie burst into tears and threw her arms around Cleo.
Grant tentatively patted her shoulder, but when Ian glowered at him, Grant raised his chin and determinedly hugged Cleo and Sophie. Mari and Agnes joined, and Cleo found herself in the first group hug of her life. It was unexpectedly hot, but that might have been her embarrassment. Her arms were pinned tightly to her sides. Someone stepped on her foot heavily, and didn’t quite move it all the way off.
Cleo loved every moment of it. She closed her eyes and tried to breathe lightly to avoid huffing into Agnes’ face. Agnes had no such compunction, and huffed great gusts of air into Cleo’s hair, ruffling it.
Mari pulled herself together first and peeled Agnes and Grant off Cleo. “Our girl needs to breathe,” she reminded the group.
Sophie was hiccupping now, little quiet gasps. “I’m
