The Wind and the Horizon (Book 2 in the Starborn Series)

Chapter Thirty-Nine

[ CW: Strong language, men being garbage: the sequel ]

Em insisted everything was fine.

"I feel like I owe it to everyone to stay out of sight," she mumbled over the box of greasy fried chicken Grant brought them for dinner. "Besides, I don't have a knack for fixing cars like you do."

But that didn't explain the sadness she wore like a shroud or the way she avoided meeting May's eyes.

May didn't buy the excuse, but she didn't pry either. If she were being honest with herself, she was glad Em was punishing herself. It was a cruel way to think, so she tried not to dwell on it, but selfishly it helped May to know that Em was feeling remorse for what she had done.

Days wore on without word from WIND. Eventually, May stopped wondering how long they would wait, choosing instead to lose herself in the busy work on the garage floor. By now no one doubted her vehicular proficiency, and while she was only allowed to work on genuine client vehicles - as opposed to the "specialty product" the crew moved through on the regular - she had unquestionably earned the Murder's respect.

She stuck close by Lety, who offered to share her station after surveying May's handiwork with her timing belt.

"Not bad, Tiny," she had said with a sharp-toothed grin. "Glad to see you can earn your keep."

Those sharp teeth, May discovered, were due to how Lety earned her own keep in the Rookery. Aside from being a skilled mechanic, she was also a shifter.

"It's kinda like being a werewolf," Lety explained one morning as they worked a stubborn set of tires off some hipster's van. "Minus the whole full moon business."

"So you can control it?" May asked as she stood on the rod of her tire iron and bounced until the lug nut turned. What she lacked in Lety's strength she made up with clever ingenuity.

"Pretty much," Lety grunted, hauling off a liberated tire from the opposite end of the vehicle and rolling it aside. "Oh, and it's not like I was bitten or anything. I was born this way."

"So how did you wind up here?" May knew she was walking a fine line by asking the question; It bordered on "digging" territory, which she had discovered was not appreciated in the Rookery.

But Lety didn't seem to mind. "It's good money."

May pursed her lips but stayed quiet. It was a bullshit answer but she knew it wasn't her place to push.

After a few beats of silence, Lety relented.

"Shifters tend to have a lot of rules," she explained as she rounded to the other side of the van. "They stick together, listen to the alpha, all that shit." Her head popped up over the van's stubby nose. "I wasn't really into it."

"But why a gang?" May knew Lety was tough - she could fend for herself. But this life didn't strike her as something a person would choose if they didn't have to.

"Why not?" Lety countered. "It's like a pack I got to choose. I get to work on cars all day, which I love, and being a shifter makes me a pretty invaluable part of the team. I've got a particular set of skills you humans could only wish for. Besides, Grant's a good boss. There are worse places I could be."

"I suppose so," May muttered. She had become distracted by the feeling of eyes boring into her and it was taking everything in her to ignore them. It was nothing new - the more time she spent on the floor, the bolder some of the guys on the crew had become. But one guy, Sid - the youngest on the team who worked at the station across from May and Lety - had become increasingly uncomfortable to be around. He had a thing for leering too long and standing too close; It made May's head spin with bad memories.