June Daley VS The Summer City: Bottomless Purse, #2

By Nora Oliver

Fresh off saving the world, June Daley wants nothing more than to be left alone and fix the things that come into her workshop. Unfortunately, one of the things that needs fixing is the hero shapeshifter who helped save the world. Haru, freshly uncursed and throwing himself into every fight he can find, is as reckless and full of sarcasm as he was when he was cursed. June isn't sure if his heroism is a character defect or something more sinister, but she does know that her leftover magic has taken an interest in the revenge he wants to enact on the being who cursed him. Such interest never ends well for her.

 

A week after Haru wakes up un-cursed and looking for revenge, Sybil drags them all to a Winter Market. The main draw is the elves and their traveling city - a yearly visit from the Summer City. While there, a being with no aura attacks the elves. Haru, drawn by the realization that his curser is in the city, uses the chaos of the fight to sneak inside the city and chase down his revenge. This draws June into the politics of elven royalty, the problems with rebels and fae contracts, and the unfathomable danger of vloggers.

 

In order to survive, June will have to figure out how to stop an aura-less being impervious to magic, prevent Haru from getting himself killed, and navigate a city built to kill someone like her.

 

June Daley Vs.The Summer City is the second book in the Bottomless Purse series.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Nora Oliver
• Release date: Jun 2, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223088240

Book preview

CHAPTER 1: PORN-DEN MY UNCURSING

There had probably been weirder things in her workshop than a naked shapeshifter recently un-cursed from the shape of a wolf and half covered by the pornographic Winnie the Pooh blanket Sam inexplicably had in his office, but June was struggling to think of what.

Maybe the possessed yoga mat she’d had to fix once. Not only had she been befuddled as to why someone was so attached to a heavily-used, sweat-drenched foam mat, but it had an absolutely filthy mouth. She’d learned a dozen new curse words during its stay and it had only been in her shop half a day.

Sam had stopped yelling at her thirty minutes ago. He was staring at Haru, his face red, his arms crossed, and his eyes a mixture of awed and awkward. June stood next to him, her posture mirroring his as she took in Haru as a man. She had seen plenty of him already, but she couldn’t stop staring, noticing hints of the wolf in his face. He had chin-length black hair he kept brushing back from his face like he wasn’t used to it, and he was nearly as tall as Sam, though not as bulky and round.

Haru was more interested in counting his fingers and toes, wiggling his feet, and touching his face, cataloging repeatedly in quiet disbelief that he was a person.

Is this weirder than the yoga mat? June absently asked Sam.

Definitely, Sam agreed without looking at her.

We should call Sybil, June decided.

Why? Haru interjected, looking at June with silver eyes that were just as expressive and intense as they had been in wolf form. His voice was rough with disuse but had intonations that suggested he was from upstate New York. There was a little Canada and Hudson Valley in the things he’d said so far.

Because we need an adult, June pointed out, and Sam nodded, still staring at Haru like he couldn’t believe he was there.

I’m an adult, Haru replied.

You don’t count. You’re the thing we need an adult for, June replied.

Why do you need an adult for me? he asked, gaze steady and intense on hers like he could read her every thought if he tried hard enough.

Because you were cursed and now you are not cursed and I feel like that might come with some repercussions that will be both complicated and annoying. Having Sybil get in front of that will keep us all from crying later.

I’m still gonna cry, Sam offered.

I haven’t cried at all today, so probably same, June admitted.

You cried a little when I woke up, Haru pointed out.

I had allergies, she refuted.

He tilted his head, eyes shining with mirth, and she knew he was thinking very sassy things about her. She flipped him off and his lips tilted up mockingly.

I’ll call Sybil, Sam decided, finally looking away from Haru.

There’s really no need to—

Sam left the workshop, phone in hand, and Haru sighed at the prospect of more people staring at him in awe.

Do you know what it means? June asked as he went back to counting his fingers.

What? he asked, eyebrows furrowing.

Your curse breaking. Do you know what it means?

He looked down, tense lines sharpening his body and his face. Yes.

Have you had magical training? she pressed curiously.

Everyone knows how a curse is broken, Haru said.

Really?

Yeah, true love’s kiss, he said seriously. She blinked at him, stymied by how dumb that was and how much she wanted to argue about it, and then saw his small smirk of amusement.

Her suspicions had been correct. He was definitely an asshole. It made her inexplicably happy.

Did Sam kiss you sometime today? June mused thoughtfully.

He kissed me every day, Haru said and Sam, who had been about to cross the threshold of the shop, did an about face and walked back out.

Coward! June called after him without looking away from Haru. Come back where I can mock you!

His office door snapped shut too sassily for someone who had been kissing Haru so regularly.

It’s okay. I’ll do it later, June assured Haru.

Haru wiggled his toes again, tapping them together, and then spun a little on her stool, like he had grown bored with the conversation but didn’t want to be rude and outright walk away from it. There was something closed down about his expression as he moved, something guarded in his eyes, which told her that he was aware of the seriousness of his curse breaking. He was in his head about it, probably lost in the trauma of his cursing, and the part of her that considered him a friend wanted to lighten the mood.

It means that you’ll always smell a little like onions, June said seriously, expression somber.

He stilled immediately. What?

She shrugged, a small smile poking through her neutral expression. His nose flared, as if checking his smell, before his eyes narrowed dangerously.

It means, she interjected before he could say whatever was brewing behind that dangerous look, that the person who cursed you decided, for whatever reason, to release you from the curse. It would have taken some real thought and a hell of a lot of magic to do it, so it wasn’t done by accident. This was deliberate.

He nodded, taking that in, but didn’t offer any explanations or try to explain why someone might curse and then un-curse him.

Haru? she pressed tentatively.

I don’t need you to fix— He inhaled to keep from saying the rest of the sharp retort and rotated in the chair restlessly.

You don’t want me to solve anything, I get it, June offered quickly, though it hurt to think that he didn’t trust her with his story. They had just saved the world together yet he still saw her as a stranger. I’m not offering that.

He rotated back around and looked up at her, eyes wide. She was happy to shock him and took a step closer so that she could impress her seriousness upon him. She started to reach out to him like she would have had he still been a wolf, but stopped herself with a curl of her fingers and a reminder that he was traumatized, probably not as okay as he seemed, and that she needed to tread carefully.

I don’t give a shit what happened, she lied. ‘It’s none of my business and I have recently been shenaniganed out by some very terrible personal things you may be aware of considering it nearly killed you too. I don’t want another situation, riddle, question, or especially a hero moment. So I’m not bringing this up to solve things for you."

I forgot for a minute how we met, he admitted, flashing a weak smirk at her.

You mean when you were a bossy asshole? she checked pointedly.

Yes, exactly, he agreed, nodding like he was pleased she understood so well. Why are you asking, then?

Because I can’t protect us if I don’t know what’s coming.

I don’t want anyone to protect me, he said. There was something sharply bitter about the way he said it, and June filed it away without trying to open the wound, figuring it had to do with his curse.

I meant me and the were-terrors, June retorted, the pain of his refusal flashing through her in unexpected ways. You can get yourself killed if that makes you happy, but I don’t want it to end up affecting them.

He wobbled his hand back and forth, pursing his lips like he wasn’t quite sure if it would make him happy or not. She waited, aware that the snark was a deflection but not necessarily one that meant he wouldn’t answer the question.

He won’t come here, Haru said.

Not even to track you down? June pressed.

No, he said firmly, and June trusted the strength of his certainty. She trusted him to care about the wereterrors enough to be honest about the threat.

Footsteps racing down the steps caught their attention and the dim awareness of Sybil against her wards told her that her conversation with Haru was done for now. June stepped back as her friend ran into the workshop, suit disheveled and eyes wide, and dropped her purse on the table next to June’s.

Did you run here? June asked skeptically.

Sybil put her hand up to silence her, accidentally knocking it against June’s face as she moved closer. June blinked hard as she reeled away protectively, but Sybil only had eyes for Haru. She surveyed Haru’s face, hair, the pornographic blanket, and his clear and present humanity.

Oh, honey, I’m so happy for you, Sybil exclaimed and reeled him up into a bone-crushing hug. He was startled by Sybil’s demanding strength and joyful reaction, but his eyes closed and his expression relaxed as he hugged her back, like he’d been desperate to be held. June felt a flash of guilt, wondering if she should have offered one or followed through on her more tactile impulses. Haru probably would have if the situation had been reversed.

Sybil pulled back and cupped his face tenderly. Her eyes were full of tears, and his eyes had softened beyond the sassy bullshit he’d been peddling since waking up. Congratulations, she whispered through her tears.

Thanks, he said, though he didn’t sound sure about it.

She kissed his cheek and released him. We need a party, she decided.

I don’t want a party, he argued.

She ignored him and moved away so she could text Anton without June frying her phone. I’ll arrange for you to see a curse specialist to confirm there aren’t any side effects. Do I need to protect you legally from whoever did it? I can get a restraining order and press charges if you—

I don’t, he said firmly, eyes tightening with quiet fear.

She eyed him sharply, hand stilling on her phone. We’ll come back to that, she offered, in a way that should have terrified him. He looked down and away, still refusing to give them information, and Sybil barreled past it. Why is he naked? she asked June and then eyed him with a frown. Why are you naked?

After he woke up, we had a massive orgy right here in my workshop and his clothes were unfortunately shredded, June intoned.

You hadn’t thought of getting him clothes yet? Sybil guessed.

There was a lot of staring and heavy blinking, Haru told her with a sad, boyish pout.

This is why I’ve trained her to call me when things like this happen, Sybil explained.

You deal with a lot of beings getting un-cursed? Haru asked, teasing them.

No, you’re the first, June announced.

Sybil frowned at her. Why are you still here? Go get him clothes.

June scowled, offended she was being ordered around, particularly while in her workshop, but still took the money Sybil offered her without complaint. Reluctantly, feeling weird about leaving Haru and unsure why, she left to get clothes from a nearby thrift shop.

She hated shopping nearly as much as she hated most people, so she was quick and efficient. She only slowed down long enough to ensure she picked out the gaudiest fabrics in the store. Satisfied at the combination of floral print shirt and orange striped pants, she went to the register.

Hey, aren’t you that lady from—

June accepted her bags from the cashier and walked out of the shop without waiting for the rest of that sentence, knowing it was about the press coverage around her mother’s fatal attempt to become a god.

She flinched at the onrush of cold wind, pulled her scarf up to cover most of her face, refuge found in the anonymity and the warmth, and grumpily trudged back to the shop. She glared up at the sky as she went, which was threatening snow again. As she did, a firework of snowflakes exploded overhead and rained down over the street before turning into white shadowy figures that danced and twirled joyfully over her head.

A nearby kid gasped and pointed at the dancing figures as a murmur of excitement went up around the road.

June blinked in confusion as the figures danced toward Manhattan and another explosion of snowflakes rearranged themselves into a message that said ‘Solstice Market, 11/20-12/20. Featuring music from Bitter Blue and Confused and Dazed.’ The sign disappeared, only to reform a street over, the soft sound of traditional Solstice music barely heard over the hum of traffic and winged beings flying overhead.

She frowned as she considered it. The Solstice Market wasn’t meant to be for...She tried to make sense of the days and realized that the holidays had somehow snuck up on her. The realization was highly disorienting. Time had turned weird in the aftermath of Zinnia’s attack, moving both too quickly and too slowly, but she ignored the unsettled feeling in her chest as she kept her hand in her purse, her eyes on the beings around her, and her mind on what it meant that Haru had been freed from his curse.

She was happy for him—happy he got to experience something not many of the cursed ever did. But she also knew that the stories of someone being un-cursed without official intervention were usually a precursor of death or greater suffering. They weren’t the fairytale endings Hollywood was so fond of peddling.

The butterflies in her stomach told her that things would get complicated soon, and she was afraid for him. Despite her better judgment and greater sense of self-preservation, she had grown attached to the stubborn dickhead and didn’t want to see him hurt or dead.

She was afraid for his future and afraid for all the things he wasn’t saying. But she also knew they had time to figure it out; time to come to terms with his freedom and the repercussions.

If they could survive Sybil’s ill-advised party.

A day after Haru’s un-cursing, June opened the door to her greenhouse, listened to the gentle hum of her magic that guided her toward the back and the chair she had set up for breakdowns and times when hiding from the were-terrors was a necessity. It urged her forward and drew her to half the reason she’d come outside.

She closed the door behind her and walked the long rows of her plants, smiling at the light that bloomed across them and the gentle swaying of the singing peonies. She paused at the row’s end, next to her dragon wisteria, and raised her eyebrows at Haru sassily.

He was wearing clothes that fit him better than the ones she had found for him in the thrift shop, though he had wandered outside without a coat or hat. His shirt was a little too small on him, highlighting his chest and biceps, but June wasn’t going to be the one to tell him.

She had self-loathing for days, but she didn’t hate herself enough to put a stop to a rather nice view.

Hi, he said brightly, faux cheerful.

Are you hiding from the party? June asked without judgment.

The other half of her reason for going to the greenhouse was to get away from all the beings Sybil had invited over to share in Haru’s joy. It had been limited to those the house allowed inside, but there were still too many beings for June’s liking. Haru’s too, if his brooding in the greenhouse was anything to go by.

Yep, he agreed calmly.

Can I join you or is this a brooding in solitude kind of day? she asked. She understood those kinds of days all too well and refused to hold any sort of judgment about it.

If you must, he teased.

She nodded seriously. I must.

Was everyone trying to hug you like they were me? Haru asked after a moment.

She shook her head. It alternated between variations of invasive questions and people saying, ‘You’re such a poor thing to have your entire family betray you, dear me, etc etc.’ ...I want to stab them all.

The hugs were worse, he decided. June laughed, her irritation at being around people dimming as he smirked at her.

Sybil usually has better judgment than this, June told him. I don’t know what’s gotten into her.

Miracles make people silly, he decided, though with fondness for Sybil on his face.

He was being more charitable toward her than June felt at present, mainly because parties were exhausting, invasive, and full of the worst thing in all of the universes combined: small talk. Post-curse, large gatherings felt like a threat, adrenaline spiking with the thought of violent potential, and she couldn’t even retreat into her most trusted sanctuary to get away from the fear. Not when they were all camped out in the living room and kitchen, and Sybil had bullied the house into locking her bedroom door.

Luckily, not even the house could touch her greenhouse. Not with the runes and protections she’d laid around it.

Feeling calmer with Haru there, she puttered around the plants for a while, giving Haru space even as she enjoyed his quiet thoughtfulness and solidarity. She considered how it would feel if Zinnia had reversed her curse, how paranoid she would be, and how uncertain she would feel. It wouldn’t have felt as hopeful as people who hadn’t been cursed would assume. She had still lived through all the trauma of hundreds of attacks and wouldn’t be able to stop from wondering when the next would come. She would have also wondered if the un-cursing was a trick meant to lull her into peace before the next bad thing, and she’d be obsessed with the fear of someone else cursing her.

Are you an expert on curses, too? he asked after a while.

Expert is a stretch, but I researched them quite heavily for obvious reasons, she admitted, returning to him so that they could talk without yelling at each other over her taller plants.

Can it relapse? He looked up at her, eyes full of fear and uncertainty.

No, she said, pulling a stool over to sit across from him. He watched her get settled, eyes vulnerable and trusting. She considered her next words carefully, and he didn’t urge her to speak the way she would have done to him in her impatience. Getting cursed is pretty rare. Getting un-cursed is even rarer. There isn’t a lot known about the side effects or how the magic lingers, but once you’re free...you’re free.

Can I be cursed again? he asked, fear tightening in his face.

Maybe. Only the cursed, ironically enough, can’t be cursed. The magic deadens any future attempts, though I’m not sure what the side effects would be. I don’t think anyone has been unlucky enough to be cursed twice.

He looked at his hands, touching the tips of his fingers with his thumb, pressing against the softness of his skin, reminding himself again that he was human and whole.

She nudged him with her foot to get him out of that train of thought, and he looked up at her questioningly.

I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen, she promised.

I don’t want to be protected, he said again, the second time in two days. This one was more vicious, pointed, like he was frustrated no one was listening to him.

June understood the feeling. It was stupid, but she’d felt the same way at the beginning of her curse. She’d been vehement about doing everything herself right up until it had become clear that she had to accept help wherever she could get it or she’d die. Her ego had been put aside in order to survive. His situation was different now, but she assumed that with a being out there who maybe wanted him dead or re-cursed, he’d get over it. Eventually. Hopefully before he died.

She shrugged. Then you can’t protect me either.

He looked up at her again, eyebrows crinkling in a flash of anger. But—

But nothing, she interjected. If I can’t protect you after I’ve earned the right, and after everything we went through together, then you can’t either, she said sternly, the memories of their near deaths rolling through her. She carefully pressed them into a box at the back of her head, refusing to think about them as had become her habit lately, and maintained her determined stare.

He considered that, his expression softening with the trust they had forged out of the experience. This morning he had ridden with her to work to ensure that she wasn’t hassled by any beings out to eat her or the paparazzi that had learned her route. He’d done it despite her protests and assurances she could manage herself just fine, pointedly ignoring her until she had stopped huffing at him. She was stubborn enough that it had taken until Manhattan.

She didn’t know where he had gone all day while she worked, but he had ended up at the entrance to the store with tea for her and coffee for Sam at exactly closing time. It was clear he was invested in her safety.

How would you protect me? he asked, softening to her point.

Hard to say without hearing your story, she said.

Without hearing it, he replied quietly, and there was something so profoundly sad in the way he said it that made her think that maybe part of his reluctance was that he wasn’t ready to talk about it yet.

Runes to keep you from being tracked and a few to protect you from magical control and unwanted teleportation. A charm bag you can carry to deflect death magic. Abda can make you that. She’s a pro. It’ll only work once, though, so be careful about that. I can also make you a necklace to wear that will help keep unfriendly beings away from you and warn you when someone has ill intentions. She caught his eyes again, wanting him to take her warning seriously. None of these will stop seriously threatening magic, particularly if the caster is in front of you, but it’ll keep you hidden and give you a tiny amount of extra time to get away if they find you.

Would these runes be like the tattoos you have? he asked curiously.

They don’t have to be, she said. I can show you how to do them and you can draw them on every day.

But they’d be stronger as tattoos? he pressed.

Yeah, she agreed with a shrug. There are specialists who can do it for you, and the blood magic involved triples the protections. The magic responds a little better to you, too. Though I don’t know what the difference would be between us, since I haven’t researched how runes react with shifter blood as the catalyst.

Mmm, he agreed and held his arm out to her, wrist turned up. She cradled his hand in hers and reached out to the table and grabbed the closest Sharpie, a silver one that matched his eyes. She uncapped it with her teeth and started drawing, adding extra protection into the rune just because she felt like he had a very good reason to be afraid. And maybe a little bit because she cared. A teeny, tiny, small amount.

She also suspected, despite his unwillingness to talk about it, that the situation would boil over onto them eventually. A broken curse was a good day, and June understood Sybil’s desire to party since no one in their circle could remember it happening to anyone. But it also raised the question of why someone who had crossed the lines of legality and every bit of decency that existed in the magical world would release Haru and allow themselves to be identified to the world. Curses done outside of legal proceedings were worthy of 200 years of jail time and the permanent dampening of magical abilities. It also made June wonder, like Haru was no doubt wondering, if the curser had released him in order to make Haru’s life worse in every way.

She silently promised him as she worked on the rune that she would do everything in her power to protect him. Even if it meant doing the unthinkable and actively getting involved in a dangerous situation on purpose. Haru had saved her life and had saved the world along the way. He was a good man and a decently sassy asshole.

She knew that he was worth it.

CHAPTER 2: SETTLING IN HAS A SURPRISING AMOUNT OF REVENGE

It had taken June begging, a crying fit from the house, Haru threatening to leave and not come back, and June promising a dozen new charm bags for the house to create Haru a room all his own.

No amount of bribery could keep it from attaching that room directly to hers via a shared bathroom, however, and she had decided to cut her losses when it became clear that the house was digging in its metaphorical heels.

At least the bathroom had been expanded to accommodate them both, June’s room growing with it. Despite the added size, it was still weird to brush her teeth next to Haru, to say their goodnights, and fall asleep without the promise of waking up with a mouth full of fur.

It was weirder still to have Haru meet her in the hall the next morning with Luke under his arm like it had been part of their everyday routine for months. Luke kept trying to bite him, but Haru’s hold was unyielding—the strength of a werewolf impeded by the strength of a shifter. He had Orion by the ankle and was holding him behind his back as both boys yelled that he was a dirty, stinky cheater. He tossed them onto the couch as Sybil yelled at them to finish getting dressed, which had them running for the stairs obediently all while yelling mellow insults at Haru. Haru sat next to her during breakfast, leaving her to wake up in silence as he blinked through his own bleary sleepiness, and then followed her out to the car like he had the previous day.

She eyed him curiously and he pointedly jiggled the door handle. The wind blew across his face and he grumpily batted it away and jiggled the handle again. She unlocked her door, then his, and waited for him to buckle in before saying, You really don’t have to come with me every day.

Haru yawned at her, pulled his hood up on his hoodie to cover his head, leaned his head against the window, and went back to sleep.

She reversed out of the driveway and braked hard once she reached the road before putting the car in drive. He jerked, head banging on the window, and turned to glare at her.

Sorry, she offered insincerely.

I have things to do in the city, you self-centered dick, he grumbled. Now shhh. He closed his eyes and June resisted the urge to stomp on the brakes again.

The subway ride into the city was quiet, aside from the stares of the beings who recognized her from the news. Haru’s presence at her side was enough to deter the questions and, arguably more important, the wilder beings who were clearly trying to sniff her out. When a being with eight eyes and fangs moved too close, he didn’t even look up from his Anton-loaned romance novel he had pulled out of his hoodie as he let his hand extend into claws and growled pointedly. Everyone nearby scurried away and June nudged him to shift the book over so she could read it more easily.

Haru walked with her to the door of the shop, said hello to Sam, and disappeared down the street, stride casual and relaxed. June watched him go with the feeling that despite his casualness he was looking for chaos, a feeling reinforced by the whisper of her magic.

He returned an hour before closing and settled on the same stool he’d sat on when he had woken up un-cursed. He rotated absently as he greeted her and she eyed him suspiciously. When he leaned forward to antagonize her she saw that he had specks of blood under his nose. She set down her pliers, took off her goggles, and grabbed his chin.

He straightened warily, but she pulled him back down with narrowed eyes that warned of murder and mayhem should he disobey her. He went with the movement more out of a desire not to hurt her than any strength on her part, expression turning bemused as she frowned at him. Why is there blood on your face? she demanded.

He gently pulled her hands away from his face, which was when she noticed a small rip in his shirt. He noticed her noticing and wrapped the pink jacket Ginger had helped him pick out around his body defensively.

Are you in trouble? she pressed.

That’s a question for the other guy, he quipped.

Haru, she warned.

I’m fine, he promised, though with a touch of impatience. There was a guy trying to rob a couple and I stepped in. He got in two lucky hits before I knocked him out.

She stared at him.

Everything about that story annoys me, June finally decided.

It wasn’t a big deal, he replied.

I’m not Sybil or your mom, June pointed out. I don’t care what fights you pick. I just care that you’re okay right now.

I like how you put Sybil first, Haru decided.

She could out-mom any mom.

Haru looked like he wanted to argue, but ultimately shrugged without saying anything. June decided it was because she was always right at least fifty percent of the time.

June went back to her table and the watch she had been working on. It kept exploding every twenty seconds with tiny showers of heat and light that bounced off her wards. She picked up her pliers again and then set them down, unable to let it go.

I can’t decide if you have some kind of moral failing and genuinely like to help people or if you’re being self-destructive. I thought if you were being self-destructive by picking fights it would have stopped with the un-cursing, but now I’m not sure.

Surely you know me well enough by now to know that my moral failings are many and vast, Haru replied.

Heroes always die, June pointed out.

I have a library back home that disagrees with you, he pointed out, and she perked up at the mention of a library.

I’m gonna circle back to the library thing in a bit, she decided after a moment, willing herself not to get distracted, but the books where the heroes survive and live happily ever after are propaganda. Stories meant for children. You have to let people be their own heroes in their stories and if they die, they die.

You’re so full of shit, he decided, leaning forward to brace himself against the table and shooting her an intense look that made her want to fidget. It was analytical, sharp, and strangely intense. Her jaw flexed as she fought the urge to look away.

Thank you for noticing, she said.

He looked down, releasing her from the intensity. I was raised differently than you were, he said. I was taught that if there’s a being in need, if there’s something you can do about it, you do it. It doesn’t matter if it puts you in danger, you show up and you fight the fight. And though I know you have to think differently because of your curse, I think you agree with me on that.

Okay, she said.

Okay? he asked.

Yeah, I can deal with a moral failing. As long as you’re not being self-destructive, I’ll allow it.

Oh, you’ll allow it, huh? he asked, like the idea of her stopping him was amusing.

She blinked at him neutrally, thinking of the dozens of beings far stronger than him that she had stopped from eating her. His expression fell, correctly reading the danger in her calm gaze. He opened his mouth to say something and then closed it again. A moment of rare self-preservation she cherished.

If you get seriously hurt, you come to me, June said. Don’t hide it.

Fine, he agreed with a frown.

Now shut up, I need to focus.

Instead of talking more just to spite her or getting indignant like other people in her life might at the dismissal, he left the shop with a sassy salute, returning at the end of the day with tea for her and coffee for Sam. Sam thanked him, looking far more comfortable with Haru at the appeasement of good manners and caffeine.

June and Haru walked to the subway together, snarking at each other as June’s thoughts lingered on the antique stapler she hadn’t been able to crack before leaving. Haru kept pace with her on her left side and watched the beings around them curiously, drawn to the rarer beings that drifted around them, and holding none of June’s wariness.

It was different from the routine they had established together as human and wolf, but June thought it might be better. It was nice to have him be able to talk back, to argue with more than nudges, growls, and sassy tilts of his head.

He had somehow, some way, during the weeks become a friend.

She just hoped she got to keep him.

From the soft press of magic against her chest and the chaos she felt looming around him, she didn’t think she would.

A week later, Sybil met her for lunch. They went for kabobs at a food truck down the street from the shop, which appeared randomly and with the caveat that you had to recite Greek poetry in order to be served. There was always a line, but it was worth it for the food.

Sybil patiently waited until June was distracted by a bite to say, We’re going to the Solstice Market this weekend.

I’m busy, June offered around her food.

You say that every year. And then what happens? Sybil asked.

You guilt me into going by using your demon spawn as weapons of mass cuteness, June grumbled.

So why go through all that emotional turmoil? Just do what I say.

June refused to respond. Mainly because she knew she’d end up at the Solstice Market whether she wanted to or not. Which sucked because this year she really, really didn’t want to go. She couldn’t go into a shop, store, or bodega without someone inside inevitably starting a sentence with Aren’t you...? and having to back out as quickly as she had entered.

The Solstice Market was always crowded, and the vendor booths full of bright-eyed news-watching beings would be one long uncomfortable reminder of the near apocalypse she had lived through.

She suspected it would get exhausting fairly quickly.

But it was also a tradition the were-terrors loved. It began their Solstice season in earnest and ramped up their excitement for the holiday. It would also be the first year that Ginger was really aware of what the market meant. June didn’t want to miss her joy.

She’d go, but she needed an escape plan in place. She’d beat Sybil with tactics and stealth.

The elves are supposed to have a lightshow this year, Sybil enticed. And the frost giants have apparently built a winter wonderland castle for the kids to explore.

Gee willy, that sounds amazing, June enthused.

Also, what’s going with Haru?

What? June asked, thrown by the question. She looked down at the kabob Sybil had bought her and wondered if it had betrayed her. It felt like a kabob lure. A betrayal kabob meant to lower her defenses and get her to answer questions she wasn’t meant to answer.

He plays with the kids, he talks to us all. He’s sunny, fun, and a lot less cantankerous than I would assume someone who hangs out with you would be.

You hang out with me, June pointed out, but Sybil pretended she hadn’t heard.

Despite that, there’s something fragile there. And I keep smelling blood on him.

He’s fine, June said.

He’s not, Sybil argued.

You mother him and he’ll cut us out, June pointed out, which made Sybil wrinkle her nose in distaste. He’s dealing with being un-cursed and probably still processing the fact that he was cursed in the first place. He also has some really stupid ideas about helping people that I don’t think are going to change anytime soon. He knows to come to me if it gets serious, so just leave him alone and let him fuck up badly enough to learn his lesson.

She frowned at June. I don’t like it. I want to help.

Wait till it’s your kids, June offered maliciously, and the despair on Sybil’s face was everything June had hoped for. Sybil ate the rest of her kabob in silence and then sullenly went back for seconds, fortification against the thought of her kids growing up, while June silently laughed at her.

Sybil hugged her in parting at the door to the shop and walked toward the subway, texting on her phone as she went. June turned away from her and accidentally locked eyes with the necromancer, frowning when he waved awkwardly at her. She waved back uncertainly and then paused as Haru appeared at the opposite end of the alley from Sybil.

He shook hands with a shady-looking human and offered the woman a wad of cash. She smelled it tentatively and then stuck it into her bra before saying something to him that she punctuated with lots of gesticulating and big expressions.

Haru nodded a lot, lips twitching when her gestures got particularly expressive, and then reached out to take a piece of paper from her when she pulled it out of the opposite side of her bra from the money. He stuck it into the front pocket of his too-tight jeans and then shook her hand again, even as she continued to gesticulate and talk. She continued to rant as she walked away, not needing an audience to continue her one-sided conversation. He waited until she was gone before pulling out the paper and reading what it said.

June’s magic swirled and looped around him, pressing and urging her to take a closer look. She didn’t have to make the