Tangled in Moonlight: Unshifted - Chapter 11

Chapter 11: Ava: The Novel Grind
Chapters 11-17 have been rewritten to improve story flow and pacing. [June 27, 2024]

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The new beginning I crave begins in a quaint town by the name of Cedarwood, just outside of Spokane, Washington. It isn’t that I made a conscious choice to stay here, exactly. I sensed shifters at the train station in Spokane and panicked. A rideshare app and a destination chosen at random brought me to Cedarwood. Specifically, to an adorable bookshop cafe on a picturesque little street in the middle of their commercial district.

Seriously, the entire street gives me a modern Victorian vibe, and families all walk because there is literally no parking anywhere. I guess people come here for the charm.

Two weeks later, I’m still at the shop, only now I’m working there. As an added perk, I even get an apartment in the above floor. It was used as storage for a few years by my new boss, and I have a lot of cleaning to do yet, but it’s mine, and I love it, even if there are boxes everywhere.

I still don’t know how all the luck managed to swing my way, but I’m not going to complain. I haven’t seen a single shifter since I came here, and from what I hear, the Aspen Pack treats humans well in their territory. There’s a huge part of me that’s terrified they will come banging on my door, demanding to know why I haven’t informed them of my presence, but—well, that’s a problem for future Ava.

I’m hoping that I smell human enough to not be bothered.

Mrs. Elkins enters the store, the bell above the door announcing her arrival. I look up from the book I’m shelving, a smile already forming on my lips. There’s something about her presence that puts me at ease. There might even be a tiny part of my mind that thinks she’s married to Santa Claus.

“Good morning, Ava,” she greets me warmly, her rheumy eyes crinkling at the corners. “How are you doing today? Settling in alright?”

I nod, my smile widening. “I’m doing well, Mrs. Elkins. Thank you again for the job and the apartment. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it.”

Mrs. Elkins laughs, a melodious sound that fills the space. “Oh, Ava, you don’t have to thank me every day, you know.”

My cheeks warm. “I’m just grateful.”

She steps closer, resting her hand over mine. Her touch is comforting, almost maternal. “The Novel Grind is a haven, Ava. It’s a place for those who feel they don’t quite fit anywhere else in this world.”

Tears prick my eyes and I blink them back, fluttering my lashes in a desperate attempt to hide how hard her words hit me. If only she knew just how much of an outsider I really am.

“I want you to find your happiness here,” she continues, gesturing to the countless books surrounding us. “Among the thousands of realities written in these pages. There are worlds of possibilities waiting for you, Ava.”

I glance around, taking in the shelves upon shelves of books. Each one holds a different story, a different life. Maybe, just maybe, I can find my own story here too.

“Thank you, Mrs. Elkins,” I say softly, my voice thick with emotion. “I think I will.” I rub my breastbone, feeling that now-familiar burn flare. Nothing eases the pain, but I’ve developed a habit of scrubbing at my sternum in hopes of easing it.

She smiles at me, a knowing twinkle in her eye. “I have no doubt about that, my dear. No doubt at all. Now, tell me, is Carlos treating you well? Not hazing my new employee, is he?”

Choking back a laugh, I wipe the tears from my eyes in a discreet motion hidden behind adjusting my glasses. Carlos is my new co-worker. He’s a few years older than me, kind and funny, and looks in my eyes when we talk. He treats me like an equal, and it’s an amazing feeling.

“He’s has been treating me very well,” I say, my voice filled with genuine warmth. “He’s even helped me prepare to sign up for night classes this summer, since I probably won’t have a car yet. We’ve been working out the logistics of it.”

Mrs. Elkins’ pats my hand as a customer enters the store, never noticing how I tense at the familiar scent. “That’s great, dear. Excuse me. I’ll take care of her. You finish with the books.”

As the older woman heads toward the stranger, I keep them in sight, shelving in numbness.

But the female shifter is only here for coffee, never once glancing in my direction.

My tense shoulders ease. Of course she is. It’s not like anyone would have found me so quickly, right? I did my best to muddy my tracks.

Shaking my head over my paranoia, I return my attention to the books as the customer leaves, feeling a little more secure in the safety I’ve found here in Cedarwood.

* * *

I turn the key in the lock, the familiar click signaling the start of another day at The Novel Grind. Mrs. Elkins reads a book in one of our plush, overstuffed armchairs, content to let me take over her morning chores.

“Keep the door open, dear.” She flips a page and squints at the words through her bifocals. “An open door brings traffic, and it’s such a nice morning.”

The heavy door is a beast to prop open, and I wonder how Mrs. Elkins has managed all these years. Eventually, I find the sweet spot to jam the doorstop in, but sweat gathers in my armpits by the time I figure it out.

I take a moment to breathe in the pine-fresh air, enjoying the chill that curls into my lungs as the sun warms my face. A soft whine catches my attention and I glance down in surprise at the silver husky sitting just outside the door, its tail thumping gently against the sidewalk.

The dog’s eyes are a blue so light that they almost seem white and seem to pierce right through me, as though they can see every secret I’ve ever hidden deep into the recesses of my mind. But then that thought is gone, because hey, it’s just a dog.

Though, I can’t help but notice the uncanny similarity between the husky’s eyes and my own. It’s a little creepy. Though they look better on the dog.

“Does he have a collar?” Mrs. Elkins pops out from behind me, but the silver-furred pup just wags its tail at the sight of her.

I stroke the husky’s soft fur, feeling a strange connection to the creature. Its eyes seem to bore into me, and I can’t shake the sense that there’s more to this dog than meets the eye. Still, I shake my head and tell Mrs. Elkins, “No collar.”

“Well, we can’t have him wandering the streets,” she says, reaching for the phone. “I’ll call animal control and see if they can come pick him up before someone runs into him.”

I hesitate, my fingers lingering on the husky’s silky coat. There’s a part of me that doesn’t want to see this dog taken away, but I know I can’t keep him. With a resigned sigh, I scrub his fur a few more times with rough affection. “Sorry, buddy. I have to get back to work.”