Beyond the Paladin Door: Chapters 1 - 3

CHAPTER ONE

Merry

Merry Moon hadn’t been in her mother’s kitchen for nine years. This time would be her last. After a quick cup of coffee, she’d leave and never return. She’d expected to find some upgrade or sign of love, but the kitchen window was still cracked, the wood-paneled walls still outdated, and the century-old wooden floors still slightly warped. Nothing there had changed in the last decade. Merry’s initials were still scratched into the linoleum counter-top.

The coffee maker sputtered the last few drops. Merry’s mom, Gwyn Acosta, poured herself a mug and returned the carafe to the heating plate.

“Am I going to get some?” Merry asked.

Gwyn looked at her impassively. She didn’t have laugh lines or frown lines: only lines. “You drink coffee, Merry?”

“Yea? You introduced me to it.”

She poured a second mug. “I don’t have creamer.”

“I drink it black.” Merry waited for approval but received nothing.

Gwyn leaned against the counter and stared into the back yard. The trees were in full yellows, oranges, and reds, and a blanket of dead leaves was building below. Browning ivy choked in the chain-link fence. The big cracks in the concrete patio still hadn’t been repaired. Gwyn’s house sat atop one of Mercury’s several hills, and the kitchen window looked west where the heart of the town sprawled along the banks of Mississippi River.

Merry sipped her coffee. Regret wafted up with the steam. She shouldn’t have come here. She’d believed her mom was serious, that after all this time she’d wanted to work on their relationship. Merry had been fifteen when she’d walked out the door for what she’d thought would be the last time.

This time would be the last.

Her fingers needed something to do besides twisting the mug from side to side. She used to play with her hair, but she’d chopped most of it off a couple of weeks ago. More regret simmered; she looked like her mom now more than ever with their shared curly black pixie cuts. Merry clung to their differences: Gwyn was average height with compact muscle, her skin middling brown, and Merry was six feet tall with her dad’s light complexion that would burn before it would tan.

Merry hadn’t noticed before how the refrigerator buzzed constantly. Her coffee was half-gone.

“Cut the bullshit, Merry,” Gwyn said finally. “Should I not have told you?”

Merry lined up her mug with a round heat blemish on the counter. “We don’t have to talk about this.”

“I have a store to open in—” Gwyn checked an old-fashioned pocket watch that she inexplicably carried, despite also having a wristwatch, “—forty-two minutes. Talk.”

Everything opened late in the little town of Mercury, Missouri. Merry had forgotten that detail until she’d driven in around noon, and almost everything but the gas station had still been closed.

“It’s not important.”

“Bullshit. Talk.”

Merry shouldn’t have needed to explain herself; her mom should have understood her frustration. That Gwyn didn’t, turned Merry’s frustration into rising anger. “I drove five hours to be here. Did you know that?”

“You drove from Omaha. That’s five hours, yes.”

“I woke up before dawn! And I drove five hours. Why couldn’t you have told me before I left? Or how about two weeks ago, when I called?”

“I couldn’t.”

“Who’s talking bullshit now? You said I could work at the pawn shop. You said you’d give me a room. Why say all that if you didn’t want me here in the first place?”

Gwyn looked out the window again. The town green, a field rolled out between two hills, was speckled with orange pumpkins. “I don’t recall saying I didn’t.”

Merry laughed out of desperation. “When I arrived, you didn’t say ‘Hello’ or ‘Great to see you, Merry!’ You said: ‘Vampires and werewolves exist, and they’re my customers.’ God, even saying it out loud sounds ridiculous!”

“They’re called shifters, not werewolves.”

“That’s what you think is important right now?” Merry pushed away her coffee mug. “Wait, do you actually believe…Fairy tale monsters aren’t real! If they were, wouldn’t I be hearing about vampires and, I don’t know, leprechauns on the news?”

“Leprechauns aren’t real.”

Merry tightened a false smile. “Leprechauns are one step too far. Right. Right.” She stood from her chair and hefted her duffel bag strap on her shoulder. Thankfully, she hadn’t unpacked her other things from her car and she could leave right now. “I never should have come here.”

“I’m telling the truth. Mercury is special. It’s a focus for magic. It keeps the world safe from untamed magic.”

“I don’t understand anything you’re saying.”

“Mercury is a Transmutown,” Gwyn said matter-of-factly. “When too much untamed magic builds up, the town moves from here to Maine, and from Maine back to here. That burns off the magic. The next Flip is tomorrow.”

Merry was speechless for several seconds. “What? Just—what?” Merry waited for her mom to speak: that this was a prank, a test, anything other than asking her to believe this bunk. “I’m done. I’m going. I’m done.”

Gwyn shrugged. She dumped out the contents of Merry’s mug and started washing it.

“That’s it? You aren’t going to say anything?” Merry asked.

“You want to go? Go.”

Merry didn’t expect the lump in her throat. She had expected her mom to fight for her—at least a little. The old floorboards creaked as Merry walked out, and she slammed the front door behind her.

A light rain had fallen that morning, and the air still smelled like moisture. Even in mid-October, the town was still so green. Merry had always liked that about Mercury, that it was so green. Not like where she’d grown up in Minneapolis, which was dead and cold half the year, or Omaha which was more red and gold and didn’t have so many trees. Here, there was always a tree or ivy or even stubborn crabgrass forcing its green life into being. The town had been built into and around rocky hills on the edge of the Mississippi, and Merry’s best memories of her limited time in Mercury were of lying on the hill by the river and watching the current flow. She considered walking by the main stretch of town to see the river up close one final time.

The echo of a train horn carried along the narrow street of turn-of-the-century homes. As a child, Merry and her only friend in Mercury had daydreamed about each train’s destination. A few dozen yards away, where the road sloped toward the main valley of town, a woman in a parked SUV applied lipstick.

Merry threw her duffel bag into her hatchback’s passenger seat. The car rumbled awake with a turn of the key; she’d expected a dead battery or broken transmission, based on how the day had gone already.

She didn’t leave.

She watched the house’s front door. Her mom would walk out any minute. She would explain that she’d been joking. She would ask Merry to stay.

When the door remained shut, Merry decided to right the situation herself. She would not leave without closure. Her mom didn’t seem surprised when she walked back inside.

“The spare room upstairs is yours,” Gwyn said.

“Do you honestly believe that vampires and werewolves exist? Do you expect me to believe that an entire town just…moves 1000 miles cross-country?”

“Yes.”

Merry had her closure. The lump had returned to her throat. “Then nothing’s changed. I’m not staying.”

“Okay.” Gwyn walked to the front room, with its stained green carpet and orange floral wallpaper. She sat on the recliner with the broken armrest and tied on her shoes. “Are you going back to Minnesota?”

“No.” Merry’s dad and step-dad had sold their house there and bought an RV to travel the country and focus on her biological father’s nature photography business. She was glad her dad could do what he loved, but, in turn, she had lost her childhood home. Her second home in Omaha was gone as well: no apartment, no friends, the bridge to her former job still burning. “I have a cousin in Des Moines.”

“What cousin?”

“My step-dad’s niece. You don’t know her.” Her cousin had offered a couch and a potential job opportunity two weeks ago. Merry had been an idiot and chosen Gwyn’s offer instead.

The mustard yellow wall phone rang. Gwyn answered it; her frown suggested she hadn’t expected a call. “What? Call the shop. I open in—no. I don’t do house calls.” She hung up.

It rang again, and Gwyn answered. “Stop calling. I don’t…”

Whoever was on the other end of the line said something to capture her attention. Gwyn stretched the phone cord to its limit to fetch a notepad and pen, and she wrote down an address. “This had better be worth my time.”

“Duty calls,” Merry muttered. She’d visited her mom for a few weeks every summer from the ages of six to fifteen. Her mom had spent most of that time inside her pawn shop. The shop had been interesting at first, with its assortment of both odd and mundane things, but there were only so many secondhand clothes, old coins, and blenders Merry could look at before she’d been ready to go outside and play.

“Merry.” Gwyn held out a cast iron key. “Can you drop this off at the shop as you leave? It goes in the back room.”

“The back room?” Those three words stopped her from saying no. “I can go in?” She’d never been allowed to see it. Her mom had said it was full of dangerous, untested, and broken things. No place for a child.

“Yes.” Her mom fished a twenty-dollar bill from her secret stash under the recliner cushion. “You might as well get lunch. You remember the Steer’s Gears? They should be open. Good burgers.”

Merry’s stomach growled. She’d last eaten breakfast, a granola bar, three hours ago. The Steer’s Gears was close to the pawn shop and right along the river. “I’ll check it out.” Assuming nothing tried to eat her instead, she’d be gone from Mercury forever by half past one.

---

CHAPTER TWO

Merry

Merry walked down the hill and along the triangular town green to the main stretch of town that snaked alongside the Mississippi River. Mercury was quaint: no chain stores within town limits; coordinated decorations that almost every storefront hung up on each major holiday; even a pedestrian-only shopping and entertainment district. Today, corn stalks and hay bales decorated most of the porches and every few yards someone had plastered signs for the Halloween Harvest Celebration.

Her mom expected her to believe all this would pick up and move 1000 miles northeast? That was logistically impossible. There were roads, water mains, power lines, and other infrastructure to consider. Not to mention that an entire town would have to vanish overnight, while one would pop up where nothing had been before.

Despite the decorations, Mercury felt empty; devoid of life. Merry remembered drivers searching for street parking, pedestrians snapping photos of the nineteenth-century architecture, and diners eating on outdoor patios. Today Merry was the sole pedestrian. A single SUV drove past her and turned at the next stop sign.

Acosta Pawn & Silver occupied the first floor of a three-story brick building with wrought-iron window detailing. There was storage and a loft in the upper stories, but Merry had never seen either. She peered through the tinted front window. The familiar hodgepodge of books, albums, and records was in one corner, while bikes, guitars, and golf clubs were in another. Televisions, stereos, and kitchen supplies filled fifteen vertical feet of shelving on one wall. A vintage window display showed off antique jewelry boxes, wooden armchairs, and a pair of hefty-looking art deco safes.

Merry couldn’t see fully through to the back of the shop, where the small and expensive things were. Watches, coins, jewelry, and knives would be stored inside the bulletproof glass counter, and behind the counter would be the mirrored case that held guns.

She had Gwyn’s keys to the front door and considered dropping off the cast iron key right then. But she wanted food first. Once she’d fulfilled her obligation to her mom she’d be itching to leave town, no matter how hungry she was.

The Steer’s Gears was a short walk north and occupied a former bank built in the 1890s. Balconies on the second and third stories were cluttered with lawn chairs and coolers. An orange tabby cat slept on the outside window ledge by the front door. Merry scratched it behind the ears and it started purring.

The door bell jingled over Merry’s head as she walked inside. Her eyes adjusted to the dim lighting, and she heard quiet country music from the old-fashioned jukebox. She had her pick of seats. Only one booth was occupied, by a woman reading a book, and two amateur soccer players were drinking at the bar. The bartender, a vaguely familiar man in his twenties, waved at Merry.

“C’mon in. Any table is good. I’ll grab your order in a mo’.”

Merry sat in a booth near the front windows and thumbed through a paper menu wedged between the salt and pepper.

“Morning.” The bartender approached, flipping to a clean page in his notepad. “Or, afternoon at this point.” He was brown-skinned, about five feet tall, and so familiar. His slouchy knit hat covered his hair and ears, and a gold hoop pierced one nostril. He wore a half-apron over his red button-down shirt and a pair of dark jeans. Merry narrowed her eyes and tried to figure where she’d seen him before. “Glad to have you—why are you staring? Wait—Merry?”

“Roo! You’re still here?”

He grinned as Merry stood and they caught each other in a hug. Merry had known Roo for almost twenty years. He and his mother had moved to Mercury the same summer Merry had started visiting. Merry and Roo had bonded early as the odd ones out in a small community and had exchanged letters while Merry wasn’t in town. Roo had been easy to like and just as happy to play with dolls as he was to chase frogs on the riverbank.

“You weren’t kidding,” Merry said and pulled away from him. “You haven’t grown. At all.”

Roo slapped her arm with his notepad and Merry laughed, dropping into the booth.

“Thank you, I hadn’t noticed. At all.” He sat down across from her. “How long have you been back? Does your mama know?”

“Let’s not talk about her,” she said. “I arrived this morning, and I’m out soon. Just lunch, then Des Moines. Probably.”

“Can I come with you?” He laughed without smiling.

“Well, I can probably fit you in the glove box.”

Roo swatted at her again.

“What are you doing here?” Merry asked. “You left years ago, like any sane person. Columbia, right?”

At some point, Merry and Roo’s pen pal relationship had dwindled until it had stopped altogether. She hadn’t made the decision to stop, but she hadn’t decided to start again, either.

“Medical issues,” he said flatly. “I had to move back home.”

“Sorry to hear. On both counts.”

He sighed heavily. “There’s nothing like moving back in with mama after three years away. Can we talk about something else? Or else I might actually try to fit in that glove box.”

“Town seems empty these days,” Merry said.

“Everyone’s getting their rest in while they can.”

“Rest. For what?”

Roo watched her closely. “For…Halloween.”

“Next week?”

“Hey, Raval!” One of the soccer players shouted. He was blond and athletic and had his foot hiked up on the stool beside him. The other soccer player, younger and pale with dark hair, watched with disinterest.

“Y’all need something?” Roo asked.

“You never did answer, Raval—are you coming with me tomorrow?” The blond guy grinned, showing his perfect teeth. “It’s gonna be a hell of a party.”

Roo tapped his notepad with increasing frequency while smiling back politely. “I said I’ll think about it, JJ.”

“Don’t think too long.” JJ winked at him.

Roo shook his head at Merry. “You’re getting all the gossip.”

“He seems like an ass.”

“He’s fine. But you’re only here for one meal.” He flipped her menu open. “I know exactly what you need.”

* * *

Merry licked the last of the BBQ sauce and mayonnaise from her fingers, and ate the errant jalapeño slices that had fallen out of her turkey burger. The drive from Omaha had been worth it just for that meal.

“Taste all right?” Roo returned with her check. JJ had kept him busy at the bar until now.

“All right? Roo, that was amazing.”

He shrugged. “We have the best burgers in town. Shame you weren’t here this summer for the fresh blueberry lager.”

JJ strutted over from the bar, his cleats clicking on the floor. His arm claimed Roo’s shoulders. “Hey, Raval. And friend. Head’s up, Roo; Caleb’s getting their own refill, on account of you being busy.”

“What? I was just over there. Caleb! You can’t go behind the bar!”

Caleb was perched halfway over the bar to the beer taps. Their feathery dark hair and beaded leather bracelets swung with their sudden stop. “Then, uh—” they glanced at JJ, then back to Roo, “—can you help me?”

Roo looked between Merry and the bar. “Sorry, I’ll be right back.”

“Take your time,” JJ said. As soon as Roo was gone, JJ sat down across from Merry. “So, you think I’m an ass.”

Merry glanced up from her check. “Did Roo tell you I said that?”

“Roo would never say a bad thing about a friend. I heard it from your own mouth.”

“That’s impossible.” Even now, Merry couldn’t hear Roo and Caleb talking at the bar.

JJ folded his hands under his chin. “I know most everyone in Mercury, but I don’t know you. You’re visiting your mother. Who is she?”

“Are you always this creepy?”

His good humor vanished. “I protect the people in my circle. Roo is in my circle. You aren’t. Answer my question.”

“If you’re worried I’m going to steal your man—or anyone’s anyone—I have literally no interest in that. Roo and I were friends when we were kids. We’re still friends.”

JJ continued to stare at her.

Merry folded her check around the twenty-dollar bill. “I stopped by for a visit. I’m leaving soon.”

“How soon?” JJ’s gaze flicked toward the front windows. “Ah, dammit.”

Another blond athletic man charged into the Steer’s Gears, pausing briefly outside to scratch the orange tabby cat under the chin. In contrast to JJ, this blond man was built like a stereotypical Viking—big shoulders, thick beard, long hair worn up. His cable knit sweater and cargo pants weren’t as on-brand. He obviously hadn’t come here for food, as he scanned the room and his focus landed on her. Had the turkey burger been worth both a five-hour drive and dealing with this guy?

JJ stood up from the booth. “What makes you think we want your stink here?”

The Viking was at least six-foot-six. He looked over JJ’s head to Merry. “You’re Merry?”

“Hey!” JJ puffed up his chest and the Viking finally noticed him. “My granny told you last time—”

“Get up,” the Viking said to Merry. “We’re going.”

Merry slid away from him to the far side of her booth, her back to the wall. “No, we are not.”

“None of us want you here,” JJ snapped. “So get.”

“She’s Gwyn’s girl. It’s paladin business,” the Viking said with a rural Missouri twang.

JJ turned slowly to Merry. “Your mom is Gwyn Acosta? Why didn’t you say that before?”

“She owns a pawn shop; what do you care?” Merry asked. He apparently cared a great deal, because he stepped aside for the Viking.

“Is something wrong?” Roo hurried around the bar, blotting a wet spot on his shirt. JJ grabbed his arm, but Roo pulled away. “He has every right to be here, JJ.”

JJ said to the Viking, “Take your business outside. My granny doesn’t want her bar destroyed again.”

The big man wasn’t listening to him. He said to Merry, “That key needs returned.”

“Who are you?” Merry asked. His eyes were pale green, almost clear.

“Bird.”

Merry looked to Roo for help. “What’s going on?”

“She doesn’t know you, Bird.” Although Roo was dwarfed by the Viking, he didn’t act intimidated. “Maybe an introduction would help?”

Bird’s jaw tightened. “Bird Braddock.”

“That means nothing.” Merry felt her frustration growing, like it had with Gwyn. “I don’t understand what’s going on.”

“Bird’s learning from your mama,” Roo said. “He’s a…he’s like a police officer.”

“I’m not incom—” Bird cut himself off. “Yeah, sure.”

“Police officer? My mom runs a pawn shop.” She motioned to JJ. “He acts like she’s a saint. Or a mob boss.” She pointed at Bird. “And you said this was ‘paladin business.’ Like in fantasy books? All I want is someone to tell me…what’s going…oh. Oh, shit.”

Everything crashed together in her mind: stores opening late; JJ hearing her from across the bar; her mother’s pawn shop buying only silver, not gold.

Merry pressed one hand to her forehead as if it would keep her worldview from imploding. Her voice shook when she spoke. “R-roo. P-please tell me that I’m on a hidden camera show. O-or literally anything else other than in a town surrounded by vampires and werewolves and whatever the hell paladins are.”

Roo glanced at Bird, who said nothing. Roo said, “If it helps, vampires generally stay away from the Gears.”

“I’m done. I should have left earlier. I’m done—seriously this time!” The three men didn’t seem to fully understand what she meant. “I can’t take this craziness. I need a normal, boring, simple life. It was great to see you, Roo, but if you don’t mind, I need to return to reality.” She took out the cast iron key. “This is what you wanted, Birdie? Take it—ow!”

The key burned her fingertips. She let it go and it bounced off the booth, then clattered on the wood floor. The burning sensation stopped and didn’t linger.

Roo smiled gently at her. He stooped and collected the key, careful to hold it with the bar rag he carried. “Did your mama give this to you?” Merry nodded, and he continued, “That means it’s yours, for now. Paladin thing.”

“My mom runs a pawn shop.” Her voice was weak.

“She does, and she sells to everyone, be they humans, shifters, paladins, or vampires.” Roo set the key near her hand. “It’s a lot to take in at first, I know, but they’re all basically normal people. Except for the, you know, not-normal stuff. Your mama told you, then?”

“How long have you known?” Merry asked. “Does everyone in town know except for me?”

Roo looked at his hands and spun a black ring on his middle right finger. Merry took comfort from the nervous tic he’d had since they were teens. “Mercury is strange. People don’t know it exists unless they’re brought here by someone who knows. My mama lived here when she was young. After my papa passed, she moved us back.”

“So you’ve always known?”

“Essentially, yeah. But I couldn’t tell you!” He spoke quickly and sat down on the seat across from her. “Again, Mercury is weird. The town has rules. And when I say town, I mean the actual, physical town. The magic of it doesn’t let children talk about the supernatural things. No one can talk about them outside of town.”

Merry poked the key. It was cool to the touch now. “I thought she was pranking me, at best. Insane, at worst. Does all of Mercury really move?”

JJ dropped on the seat beside Roo. “That it does. Tomorrow. Which reminds me, Raval, are you—”

“I definitely need to leave today.” Merry grabbed the key and scooted out of the booth. “You, Bird, we need to drop off the key, yeah? Let’s do that now, so I never have to see you again.”

“Merry, wait.” Roo tried climbing over JJ to leave the booth. JJ tickled him, playfully keeping him captive, and Roo escaped by crawling beneath the table. “Merry, I know it’s a lot to take in, but Bird’s only doing his job.”

“Do you think I’m being mean?” A rush of vertigo overtook her, and Merry dropped into the nearest chair. “You’re right. I am being mean. Bird, are you offended I’m being mean?” She laughed hoarsely. “Don’t answer. I don’t care. You don’t seem to care either, so we’re all in good company!”

Roo crouched beside Merry. “Please, breathe in, slowly. We’ll get through this together.”

“I visited this place every summer as a kid for a decade, and I’m only learning now that I could have been sucked dry by a vampire!”

“The Coven Queen don’t allow that,” Bird said.

JJ snorted. “You break our stuff, but defend the Queen.”

“You aren’t helping,” Roo said. “Neither of you.” He held Merry’s hand, and she felt like he was patronizing her. Any reasonable person would react the same as she had. He swallowed and licked his lips. “We are like anyone else. I’m a shifter. It only happened six months ago. I know what it’s like for your entire reality to irrevocably…break in an instant.”

The tears gathering in his eyes brought Merry back to herself. This was no different than a big setback on a professional project. She had given herself a short time to be hopeless and angry, and now it was time to get to work.

She focused on the facts. “Vampires are self-explanatory: drink blood, sunlight and holy water bad. What are shifters?”

Roo blinked several times to clear his eyes. “Shifters can turn into animals. Each shifter can turn into one type of mammal, but the variety is wide. And they have control over when they shift. It’s not based around the moon.”

“I’m a lion,” JJ said. “My cousin Caleb is a wolf. And Roo’s a—”

“Let’s not talk about me, please,” Roo said.

Merry pointed the orange tabby outside. “Is that someone?”

“That’s Colonel Mustard. He’s just a cat.” Roo said with a smile.

“Just a cat. Good. Now, paladins. What are they?” Merry asked.

Roo indicated that Bird should answer.

“We have oaths,” Bird said. “We get power.”

“You’re terrible at explaining things,” Merry said.

Bird started to shrug, then his body language contorted with pain. He staggered against the door frame, one hand clutching the side of his head. JJ tried to hold Roo back, but Roo ducked beneath his arm and went to Bird’s side. Caleb watched from the bar, their gray eyes wide.

“Is it Gwyn?” Roo asked, and Bird nodded. “Then you need to stop forcing her out. She’s an ally. Let her in.”

Bird gradually relaxed, letting his hand fall, and pushed himself away from the door frame. He said, “Gwyn’s in trouble. I need gear.”

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CHAPTER THREE

Roo

Gwyn in trouble? Roo had never heard such a thing. Gwyn was the lynch pin that held Mercury together. She was the strongest paladin Roo had ever met.

“What does that mean?” Merry asked calmly. She seemed to have accepted the reality of Mercury in minutes. Meanwhile while Roo still mourned May 25th as the worst day of his life.

“It means the three of you had best get.” Nora startled everyone by speaking from her booth. She looked up from her book and nodded in greeting to Merry. “Good seeing you.”

“You. I know you,” Merry said. “You have that big truck. You let me pull the horn.” She mimed pulling down on a cord. Nora was a long-haul trucker with no true home but her sleeper cab. “Are you…something?”

“Tiger-shifter,” JJ said, “and what did you mean by ‘three of you?’ Roo isn’t going with them.”

JJ was going to drive Roo to insanity. He’d never paid attention to Roo in school, but once Roo had returned to town as a shifter, JJ had started seeing him as property to claim. The worst part was that Roo kind of liked it and he didn’t know why.

Merry stood. “You coming, Roo? Birdie’s non-negotiable. Let’s get this over with.”

JJ grabbed Roo’s arm.

Roo pulled himself free. “I can make my own decisions. I should go with them.” Merry would need back up with Bird. He was an acquired taste.

JJ pouted and plucked at Roo’s collar. “You can’t leave. What if we get hungry?” JJ was lucky that he was a Greek god with a golden tan and a jawline chiseled from marble; he was the most draining man Roo had ever personally known.

Roo tied on a smile. “You can wait ten minutes.”

“Ten whole minutes?” JJ whined.

“I can go,” Caleb said from the bar.

“Why would you go?” JJ asked.

“This day is so weird,” Merry said. “Roo, are you coming or not?”

“You’re a big girl. You can manage a little walk all on your own.” JJ’s hand slid around Roo’s waist, his fingers slipping between Roo’s shirt buttons. Roo both wanted it and wanted it to stop. Blood rushed to his face.

Merry had to know Roo was different now, beyond having become a shifter. She was judging him, wondering why he’d once professed himself to be uninterested in romance or sexual relationships, and now had JJ hanging off him.

“Nora,” Bird said, “do something.”

“You don’t give orders here, bloodslut,” JJ said.

Roo peeled himself away from JJ. “What did you call him?”

“Check his neck,” JJ’s voice wasn’t so forceful this time; he knew he’d gone too far. “What kind of impartial paladin has that many bite marks?”

“Stop while you’re behind,” Nora said, stretching her arms. She looked about forty, but no one knew for sure. Shifter genes and the dark complexion of her Guyanese ancestry camouflaged her real age. She carried her book with her as she went behind the bar. “I’ll keep these idiots from doing keg stands.”

* * *

Roo shivered and wished he’d brought his jacket, even for this short walk. Merry was lost in thought, while Bird had taken the lead. Was Merry thinking about him? He braced for the obvious questions about his affiliation with JJ, and when the questions didn’t come, he forced the subject.

“I don’t think I’m asexual anymore,” he said.

“You don’t?”

“Things…changed when I became a shifter.” He kept his eyes down. “I just turned one day, and then my—It’s all confusing. And JJ isn’t helping. He only ever dates shifters, and now he won’t leave me alone.”

“Tell him to stop,” Bird said from ahead.

“That’s the clearest thing you’ve said so far,” said Merry.

Roo put his hands in his apron pockets. “It’s not that simple. His grandma owns the Gears. She’s my boss, and she heads the Pride. The shifter community is small and dense. Everyone knows everyone. If I piss off JJ, I’m not sure what will happen.”

They arrived at Acosta Pawn & Silver and Roo had to stop talking about his relationship issues. There were more important things happening. The pawn shop was a fixture of the town, always carrying something useful. Roo had purchased several birthday gifts for his mother there, but he’d never been inside when Gwyn wasn’t present. Merry unlocked the glass front doors.

Though he still felt shaky, he smiled at Merry and motioned across the street to Sugar & Ice’s quaint blue storefront. “It’s a shame you can’t stay longer. Miss Sugar’s is great. I work there part time. One half is an antique jewelry store, and the other is a coffee shop.”

“Is that where the vampires hang out?” Merry held the front door open and Roo walked into the smell of leather cleaner and old books.

“I don’t think blood mixes well with coffee. But Miss Sugar does offer a service to track down a vampire’s old lost jewelry.”

“What a weird town.” Merry tapped the front counter, between the We Buy Silver and Welcome In signs. “But it does explain why she’s Acosta Pawn & Silver, not Acosta Pawn & Gold.” She looked at the wall of guns and the locked ammunition container. “Does she sell silver bullets?”

“Not on the sales floor.” Roo scratched his neck where JJ’s smell lingered.

Bird slapped the back-room door, situated behind the L-shaped front counter. “The key.”

Merry tried the handle. “It’s not turning.” She brought out the keys for the front door and then froze. “There’s no keyhole. There’s no way to unlock it.”

“You have the key,” Bird said.

“This one?” She held up the cast iron key that looked fit for a castle dungeon, not a small-town pawn shop. “There’s still no keyhole.”

“Look harder,” Bird said.

“Again: you’re terrible at giving advice.” Merry did peer closer, feeling around the handle and checking the door frame. “Earlier, you were talking to my mom? How?”

Bird wasn’t going to answer, so Roo did. “They use a magic device called a court that lets paladins communicate telepathically over a certain distance. Am I right, Bird?”

“Close enough,” he said.

Roo leaned on the counter while Merry kept searching the door and its frame. He nudged Bird’s arm. “You’re getting better with it. Good job.”

“You basically had a seizure,” Merry said. “Did you used to puke up blood before?”

“You stopped looking,” Bird said.

“There. Is. No. Lock. It’d be faster to kick it down.”

Bird tried. He walked to Merry’s side, braced himself against the counter, and kicked the door. The whole wall shuddered, guns shaking in their glass case. The door remained unmarked.

“How…?” Merry shook her head.

“That’s a paladin door,” Roo said. “I’ve never actually seen it in action.” He rarely saw Bird in action, either. The man was violent poetry, intimidating and enthralling. “Almost nothing can break it. The door, and the walls it’s connected to, are impenetrable because of your mama’s magic. Only the right key can open it.”

Merry shoved the key at the door around the handle. “I don’t know what I’m doing!”

Bird said, “Try seeing reality.”

“Can you give me a ‘warmer’ or ‘colder’ here? Anything would help.” Merry tried the doorknob, then examined the spot where Bird had kicked. “Wait. Shit. Did you two see that?”

Roo shook his head. Bird watched intently.

Merry touched the same spot on the door again, then jumped back. “My hand went through it.” Roo still hadn’t seen anything. “This cheap-looking door is an illusion.” She sank the key into the center of the door. Roo stood straight; he’d seen that. She turned the key with an audible click and opened the door.

She stared into the room beyond, slack-jawed. “Can one of you explain why my mom has an arsenal back here?”

The story continues in Beyond the Paladin Door