Isla

  The park was quieter than usual, not too quiet, but enough to set my nerves on edge.

  The lakefront trail stretched ahead, mostly empty save for a few late-night stragglers lingering beneath the lampposts or leaning against the railings. A couple whispered by the water’s edge. A man jogged in the distance, his breath visible in the chill. It was quiet enough to feel alone, but not so quiet that I could forget how exposed I was.

  My hands were buried deep in my jacket pockets as I followed the gravel path. The snakes rested against my shoulders, their weight a familiar comfort. This was supposed to be my space, my time. Even in the middle of the city—with its constant noise and chaos—the lake offered me a place to breathe. For millenia I’ve had a conflicting relationship with water. It called to me—but I knew I had to keep my distance. This was my compromise. A walk near the lake where I could feel it’s hum of life but not go in.

  But tonight, the air felt different. Heavier. I kept my head down, my pace measured, but I couldn’t shake the sense of being watched.

  Then I saw him. At first, I wasn’t sure it was the same man. He was standing near the railing, half-shadowed by the dim light of a lamppost, his shoulders hunched slightly as he spoke to someone else. The wiry man across from him was animated, his hands cutting sharply through the air like he was trying to make a desperate point.

  I slowed, instinctively blending into the shadows of a tree, watching from a distance.

  It was him. Finn. The guy from the grocery store two nights ago. The one with the stupid questions and the calm, irritating smile. Except now, there was no smile.

  His posture was different. He wasn’t leaning casually, trying to charm someone into a conversation. He was still calm, but it was sharper somehow, his height and broad shoulders cutting an imposing figure. His hands stayed tucked in his jacket pockets, his head tilted slightly as he listened to the other man’s frantic gestures.

  The wiry man jabbed a finger toward Finn’s chest, his voice low but heated. Even though I couldn’t make out the words, the tone made the snakes stir against my skin, their earlier calm shifting into something more alert.

  Finn didn’t react. If anything, he seemed even more at ease. He straightened, his full height casting a shadow over the smaller man. His head tilted the other way, like he was sizing him up. The wiry man froze mid-sentence, his mouth hanging open as the tension between them thickened. Finn said something then—quiet, measured—but I couldn’t hear it from where I stood.

  Whatever it was, it worked. The wiry man nodded quickly, his hands dropping to his sides before he turned and bolted down the trail. Not walked—bolted. He hunched his shoulders like he couldn’t get away fast enough.

  Finn stayed where he was, leaning back against the railing like nothing had happened.

  The snakes shifted restlessly, brushing against my neck and shoulders. I didn’t move from the shadows, my heart pounding harder than I wanted to admit.

  He hadn’t done anything overtly threatening—no raised voice, no sudden movements—but the air around him had changed. Calm, yes. But with an edge sharp enough to cut.

  What the hell had I just seen?

  Before I could decide whether to leave or stay, his gaze swept across the park, slow and deliberate. My breath caught when his eyes landed on me.

  “You know,” he said, loud enough for me to hear, his voice breaking the quiet, “you could’ve just said hi.”

  I didn’t move, every muscle in my body locking into place. His tone wasn’t sharp or mocking. It was calm—too calm—and that made it worse.

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  He straightened, pushing off the railing and turning fully toward me. His dark eyes glinted faintly under the lamplight.

  “Well?” he asked, tilting his head slightly. “Are you going to say something, or are we just going to keep pretending you weren’t watching me?”

  I stepped out of the shadows, my fists clenching in my pockets. “What was that?”

  “What was what?” he asked, completely unbothered.

  “That,” I said, gesturing toward the empty path where the wiry man had disappeared. “Whatever just happened.”

  He shrugged, his hands sliding casually into his jacket pockets. “Just a conversation.”

  “That didn’t look like a conversation.”

  His mouth twitched, that faint almost-smile from the grocery store flickering back. “It wasn’t anything for you to worry about.”

  The snakes stirred again, their unease prickling at the edge of my mind. I shifted my weight, narrowing my eyes. “What are you doing here?”

  “Walking,” he said simply.

  “Here? Of all places?”

  “Didn’t realize it was your park,” he said, arching an eyebrow, I saw his eyes dart to the water and back to mine.

  I glared at him, but his calm demeanor didn’t falter.

  “Well,” I muttered, stepping past him, “enjoy your walk.”

  “You too,” he said, his voice calm as ever.

  I was halfway down the path when he called after me.

  “He was asking me to craft a spell for him.”

  I stopped, my boots grinding against the gravel.

  His footsteps were slow, measured, as he closed the distance between us. “Something I refused to do,” he added.

  I turned back to face him, my eyes narrowing. “A spell?”

  He shrugged. “It’s what I do sometimes.”

  The snakes shifted again, their unease curling through me like an echo of my own. “What kind of spell?”

  “Something he shouldn’t have been asking for,” Finn said, his tone shifting slightly. The calm was still there, but underneath it was something sharper.

  I crossed my arms, the chill of the night settling deeper into my skin. “What do you mean?”

  “Not all magic is harmless,” he said, tilting his head. “Some of it comes with… consequences.”

  “And you didn’t want to deal with the consequences.”

  His eyes glinted faintly in the low light, his mouth twitching into that infuriating almost-smile. “I didn’t want him to deal with them. Or anyone else, for that matter.”

  The air between us felt heavier, the quiet hum of the park drowned out by the weight of his words.

  “What are you?” I asked finally, the question slipping out before I could stop it.

  His smile faded, replaced by something unreadable. “Complicated.”

  “That’s not an answer.”

  “It’s the best one I’ve got right now.”

  I stared at him, my mind racing with everything I’d just seen, everything he’d said. The calm, the menace, the refusal to elaborate—it all felt like pieces of a puzzle I wasn’t sure I wanted to solve.

  “Do you always make a habit of sticking your nose into things like that?” he asked, breaking the silence.

  “Do you always make a habit of refusing to answer questions?”

  He laughed softly, the sound low and warm and annoyingly disarming. “Fair enough.”

  The snakes shifted again, brushing against my neck like they were as unsure about him as I was. One of them—Noodle, of course—darted forward, her small head lifting to flick her tongue toward him. She was always the first to stick her nose where it didn’t belong, and apparently, tonight was no different.

  “Noodle,” I muttered under my breath, reaching up instinctively to guide her back.

  But she ignored me, sliding farther along my shoulder as if she was debating whether or not to close the gap entirely.

  Finn’s gaze dropped slightly, his head tilting just enough to watch her. Noodle flicked her tongue again, and Finn smiled faintly, a calm warmth in his expression that made the rest of me tense.

  “I don’t mind,” he said. “She’s just saying hello.”

  Before I could snap something back, Viper shifted.

  Her head rose sharply, her sleek body coiling tighter around my arm like she was gearing up for a fight. Where Noodle was all curiosity, Viper was pure posturing—always ready to strike, even when the threat wasn’t real.

  “Vipes,” I warned, my voice low.

  Finn’s eyes flicked to her, his expression unreadable.

  “She’s protective,” he said, his tone soft again. “I get it.”

  “Do you?” I asked, narrowing my eyes.

  His faint smile returned, and instead of flinching away, he took a small, deliberate step closer. Viper hissed, her body tensing further, but Noodle stayed where she was, undeterred.

  “You don’t have to be afraid of me,” Finn said quietly, his gaze on Viper now.

  Her head swayed slightly, the hiss tapering off as she seemed to weigh his words.

  The air between us felt heavier, the quiet hum of the park fading into the background.

  “Don’t read into it,” I muttered, forcing myself to step back. “They’re snakes.”

  Noodle flicked her tongue again, like she was laughing at me, while Viper shifted slightly, her bravado finally easing.

  Finn’s gaze lingered a moment longer—seeing too much—before he stepped back too, his hands sliding into his jacket pockets.

  “See you around, Isla.”

  I froze.

  “How do you know my name?”

  His faint smile grew just enough to feel like a challenge. “It suits you,” he said, and then he turned, walking down the path as if the conversation had ended.

  I stood there, the snakes coiled and quiet against my skin, and watched him go.