Enchanted (While You Can Book 1) by Emilie Ocean

Author:Emilie Ocean [Ocean, Emilie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Ocean Publishing
Published: 2024-04-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 17

Féidhlim

The grip of my fingers tightens around the leather handle of my gear bag as I exit the ferry terminal to find a taxi. The passengers hustle me out of the way when I stand in the middle of the bridge leading outside, my heart racing so fast in my ribcage that I find it hard to breathe.

“Get out of the way, you idiot!” a male rudely yaps at me, his protruding belly hanging down from his stomach under his grey-and-black basketball top.

Of course, he doesn’t know who I am. No one does here.

“Sorry,” I mutter, my head bowing, my baseball cap casting a shadow over my tired features as I start moving.

I didn’t want to fly to Duwamish Land on our private jet or use a magical carriage. I wanted to do this my way. So I bought a plane ticket, flew over the Atlantic Ocean in economy class, and then got the ferry to Bainbridge Island.

Modes of Transport in Duwamish Land are hybrid-built. They display the perfect blend of magic and modern technology. Most of the Duwamish population are werewolves but the non-magical community still represents a solid quarter of the country. I personally like the way the state of Washington was able to marry magical and non-magical advances in a seamless fashion. Mechanical engines are mostly fueled by spells and enchantments while requiring a mechanic to assemble the parts to make the final product usable.

The cool breeze from the waters of Puget Sound runs through my blond curls, my hair longer now than it was in Reunion. I should have gone for a haircut—and a shave—before showing up here unannounced. Thank Gods, I, at least, brought fresh sets of clothes with me on the journey.

Moisture settles over the palms of my hands and for a brief moment, I think of running back to Éire, where the known feels safe. But I shake my head at the absurd thought because I know I can’t keep running forever. I need to face the music. I need to see my son.

I pick up the pace and nod at one of the taxi drivers impatiently waiting for work. The middle-aged male swiftly unlocks his car, allowing me to slide into the backseat, my gear bag resting on the black leather spot beside me.

Everything seems more… practical here. Less enchanting. Or maybe it is just the anxiety keeping me company that casts a dim glow over my surroundings.

“Where to?” the driver asks, his bulbous eyes staring at me through the rear-view mirror.

“6 Banshee Road,” I recite Aoife’s address, the one that has been echoing in my mind on repeat ever since El’s text.

He turns on the engine and the car takes off. I stare out the window as we pass by the town centre, and I take a mental note of the hotels and restaurants I see on the way. I should have made a reservation for the night somewhere before coming here, too, but in all the excitement and nervousness I didn’t think of it.

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