“So many forms,” Sonja told her in an almost apologetic fashion. “Most of them are very specific non-disclosure agreements. Don’t feel like you have to get them all back to me today. Just finish them when you have time. And with that, Leonard and I will be on our way. You two go make Mystic Bayou a healthier place.”

Will grinned at her and gave her a smacking kiss.

“Nice to meet you,” Leonard told Charlotte, before moving toward the door with near-surgical concentration. She smiled and waved, probably trying to avoid another static shock. He turned to wave back and somehow, that motion threw him off balance and he tipped forward, nearly face-planting against the door frame. Sonja caught his arm before his nose made contact with the metal.

“Are you all right?” Charlotte cried, coming closer to cup his jaw in her hands, inspecting his face for damage. That same crackling energy rippled up the side of his face, making him shudder in dread and delight.

“I’m fine,” he muttered, stepping away from her. “Happens all the time.”

He walked out of the clinic as fast as he dared. Sonja only caught up with him half-way across the street. Everything would be fine. He just had to avoid beautiful, compelling Charlotte McBee and he would be fine. Or at least, he wouldn’t be injured in some humiliating fashion, possibly involving dragon fire or giant porcupine quills.

“You OK?” Sonja asked as they walked back to the admin building.

“Sure. I just hope that Jessica hasn’t moved my desk into the swamp by the time we get back,” Leonard said.

3

Charlotte

Whenever her mother got stressed, Lizzie McBee would say that she was “blessed with work.” Well, Charlotte had blessings coming out of her ears.

Still, working kept her mind off of the thousands of moving in tasks she needed to do. And then there was the strange riddle of Leonard O’Donnell. Charlotte saw him freeze up and shut down every time she approached him. Even if he was engaged in conversation, relaxed and laughing, he would just go quiet and still. He moved so rigidly, she was afraid his bones would crack.

Some people just felt uneasy around the fae. It was easy to understand, she supposed. Fae could be petty creatures, seeking disproportionate vengeance for relatively small slights. The Grimms’ original fairy tales were practically subtitled, “Long and detailed cautionary stories about pissing off the fae.” She tried not to let it hurt her feelings, but well, it stung.