Page 68 of The Librarian’s Familiar

“Things are going to get rough.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

It was ridiculous that he was sitting with August, having dinner with his parents, and his parents were acting as though he was the answer to problems, not the cause of most of them.

August’s father had served him up a shifter-sized serve of roast and vegetables that he was never going to be able to get through. But while he was eating, he didn’t have to talk. No one wanted to talk while eating, it seemed, as the polar bears were also focused on their plates, and he wasn’t brave enough to get between a shifter and their food.

He took a drink of water, not sure he could eat another bite, even though there was the equivalent of another meal on his plate. August gave him a look and tapped his foot beneath the table.

Right, he wasn’t eating. “Thank you for dinner.”

“Any friend of August’s is more than welcome,” August’s father said. “Why don’t you share what’s going on with the missing birds?”

That was a less-than-subtle nudge, but then polar bears weren’t exactly known for being subtle.

“Magic is gathering, and the animals are saying it’s a storm and that we should run.” There was no point in sugar coating it since he needed their help to make sure everyone in town was safe. “The storm hasn’t been picked up on the radar yet, and by the time it is, it’ll be too late for the town to prepare. I’m sure that some of the witches or shifters must be feeling something? Is it possible for them to take action without causing a panic?”

“Is this what the Coven has ordered?” August’s father asked.

“No, they’re going to get back to me, but the nearest assistance is over twenty hours away.” And he still needed to contact the prison. He wanted to wait until the Coven called him back before he did that, but he was starting to think that putting them on alert was the smart thing to do. Perhaps there was someone there who might be able to offer assistance of the magical variety. “I know it’s not concrete, but if the birds have fled, other animals will also be taking precautions, yet we are sitting here waiting for permission.” He glanced at August, hoping for some help. This was their town and their friends that he was trying to help. “Look, I don’t know what we’re dealing with yet, but I think it’s better to err on the side of caution.”

August’s father frowned and put down his fork. “The problem is we can’t tell people it’s a storm because it’s not showing up yet.”

Charlie stared at him. “It’s a town full of paranormals, we can tell them about magic.”

“They are going to want the Coven to do something. And I don’t think that telekinesis is going to be very useful.” August’s father picked up his fork and continued eating like that was the end of the conversation.

August gave him a look like he was supposed to know what to do.

Was he supposed to come clean about his magic? “People need to be aware that something is going on. Even if it avoids the town, it could hit the prison, and if it ruptures the wards…” Storm precautions weren’t going to help the town. It would take a lot more than that to stop a potentially deadly release of magic.

August finally spoke up. “We need to warn people that there is a buildup of magic brewing, even if we don’t know what the purpose is.”

“People will panic. It’s what people do regardless of whether they’re human, shifter, or witch,” August’s mother said.

“They’ll panic more when they start sensing it and don’t know what’s going on. We don’t need to start with warning alerts. A meeting or something will be fine. Then at least people have a choice as to whether they start preparing or sit back and wait.” He’d expected August’s parents to be more proactive, but then perhaps they’d seen numerous storms, and unless it was big, it was just another snow flurry. They were surrounded by magic all the time, so what difference did it make? They lived with the prison virtually on their doorstep, so the threat of disruption was always there.

“You cannot use the town’s emergency alerts for possible trouble.”

“Great.” It wasn’t possible trouble, though. It was trouble he couldn’t categorize yet, which made it worse, not better. “I’ll go and sort it out myself.”

“Charlie…” August’s voice was soft. “We will find a solution…”

“All I’m hearing is things I can’t do, and nothing that I can do.” How was he supposed to go to sleep tonight? Knowing that when he woke up in the morning, the danger would be that much closer and stronger? Others would start to sense the buildup in the air and look at him to do something.

August’s mother glanced at her husband. “All we have talked about is protecting the town; you haven’t mentioned anything that you’re going to do. Is there a protocol for dealing with such an event?”

“Yeah, and the first step is making sure people are safe.” That included the prison. He needed to contact them before getting more information. It may have been more useful to go there. But he needed the bond to be settled with August. It was too dangerous to keep it, even though August thought it was better to keep it. There was a tiny part of him that wanted to be right because what were the odds that he would come to Claw Lake and find a fated mate?

He wanted to believe that it was meant to be, but this wasn’t his first mate…so how could it be? Why did this one matter, and the others hadn’t? Or had they mattered, and he hadn’t noticed because he hadn’t bothered to keep the bond?

There wasn’t much he could do. “I’m going to stop by the bar on my way home, and I’m going to start spreading the word. It may not be the official channel, but it’s better than nothing.”

“That’s your plan?” August’s father asked like he couldn’t believe Charlie was the best the Coven could send. He wasn’t, but they thought his magic might be useful.

“No, that’s the start. Then I’m going to head out and meet the magic head-on.” His mother had said it wasn’t like untying shoelaces, but that’s where she was wrong. It was just like untying shoelaces, except the shoelaces were alive and fighting against him. It didn’t matter if it was shoelace or a fated mates’ bond, or the bonds that held cells together. They could all be pulled apart.

August gasped. “You can’t go out into a building storm.”