Henry skipped to the bottom.

So it is by the method of helping those less fortunate and holding them to the same expectations of others that Shane O’Donnell has instilled self-worth in these young minds and accomplished something truly remarkable. He has left his mark on the city of Portland, whether he wants to take the credit or not.

Wiping a hand down his face, Henry lowered the paper. He’d known this day was coming for some time now, knew it wouldn’t be long before the media would find such an extraordinary person. He stared at the picture of Shane, trapped in the memory of the time he and Shane had first met, ten years ago. It had been one of the most difficult afternoons of Henry’s life, seeing young Shane in that hospital bed, a thin blanket covering legs that would never walk again, and knowing it was completely Henry’s fault. He had etched in his mind the exact placement of every bruise and scratch on Shane’s face, as well as the placement of every signature on his arm cast. Henry had made himself remember, had taken those mental pictures so he could recall them at any given moment—moments like now.

The bell on the door jingled and everyone fell silent as the famous Ms. Ashton stepped through. He found himself staring with the rest of them as she rubbed at her arm and gave a nod to the gawkers. “Good morning,” she said, subtly clearing her throat. Eustace gave his crooked smile and turned back to his omelet, his eyes being the only to free Ms. Ashton. There was an air of discomfort about her as she walked forward. Hopefully, that discomfort would take her from Hemlock Veils as quickly as her situation allowed.

Her eyes flitted about the place and met his own, sticking there ever so briefly before he glanced back at the newspaper. He raised it high, blocking the view—refusing to show any more curiosity than he already had.

“Good morning,” Regina said. “Sit. I’ll get you something warm.”

“Thanks,” Ms. Ashton said, and by the rustling of bodies against the vinyl booth across from him, Henry guessed Brian, Taggart, and Eustace were making room for her.

“Sheriff Taggart tells me you took a walk through the forest this morning,” Brian said. Henry loathed that tone in Brian’s voice, the tone he used on all women worth looking at. Giving in to his curiosity—about why she would take a walk through the forest and whether she would react like the rest of the women Brian involved himself with—Henry lowered the paper, finding Brian leaning close to her.

She recoiled, but smiled politely. Clearly, Nicole had already become background noise for Brian. And there was no competition. While Nicole probably had to put hours of maintenance into her plastic-looking appearance, Ms. Ashton was a classic beauty. Even Henry allowed himself the realization that she was the most attractive thing Hemlock Veils had seen. In truth, she was the most beautiful woman Henry had seen in too many years to remember, maybe even ever. Her hair, the color of rich soil, had been the first thing he’d noticed when she’d walked through the door. It fell onto the shoulders of her wool sweater in gentle waves and somehow accented her eyes, which were striking beyond description. Her every facial feature seemed carefully crafted by the Maker Regina frequently spoke of. Even the outline of her face and the narrowness of her nose—mousy, but in a charming way—were exquisitely shaped. He imagined little effort went into her appearance, but beauty could be deceiving. In his experience, it always was. It wasn’t often he admired women, not like he used to, and he stopped himself now.

Regina placed a mug of coffee before Ms. Ashton, one of her best he could see, since it had no chips, and Ms. Ashton smiled a gracious smile, one that made Brian scoot a little closer. She glanced only at the mug, placing her hands around it as steam rose to meet her face.

“I lost something out there last night,” she said in answer to Brian’s question.

“Lost something?”

“Mind your own damn business, Brian,” Eustace said, his dentures mangling a poor straw.

Ms. Ashton smiled. “It’s okay. It was a necklace,” she said at Brian. “A locket.”

Brian’s eyes feigned sympathy. “I hope you found it.”

“I did, thank you.” This surprised Henry.

Brian inched closer. “I’m real sorry, Beth, for what you went through. It must be hard being thrown into such an awful nightmare.” He touched her arm, delicately, and slowed his voice. “It can be a tough pill to swallow, and if you ever need anything…”

Nicole rolled her eyes and Henry fought the desire to do so himself.

Ms. Ashton pulled her arm away, smiling that polite and stunning smile only briefly. “It was nothing. I appreciate all the concern, really, but I mean it when I say I’m fine.” She looked at everyone else to convey her meaning, as though the sympathy irked her. Perhaps it did. She seemed just that: fine. Unaffected.

“I believe it,” Taggart said as he shook his head, bringing his coffee to his mustache-covered mouth. “Any woman sane enough to be scared after an encounter like that wouldn’t have the mind to go wandering through the forest again.” It wasn’t difficult to see he had already developed a soft spot for her. Her fearlessness wouldn’t be so irritating to the sheriff if he hadn’t. “And get this,” he added. “She loves it out there, says it’s beautiful.” Headshakes and harrumphs went up all around.

She looked puzzled. “And that’s strange because…?”

“Like I was saying: the beauty is deceiving.” He sighed, softening his voice, hesitating. “No one who knows the forest’s real dangers is comfortable there. It’s just not…normal.”

The lift of her brow spoke challenge. “So you’re saying I’m insane since I feel safe there.”

A few gasps went up. Even Henry shook his head.

Taggart sat back, speechless, and Ms. Ashton took his arm. She leaned forward, her eyes boring into his. “It’s like I was saying, Sheriff, I’ll be just fine.”

His mustache lifted, just half. “’Cause of your good instincts, right?”

She sat back, a soul unlike the rest of them. Henry saw it now, that perhaps in some ways she was saner than everyone else. It meant this wasn’t the town for her.

“Look, Ms. Ashton, this place is dangerous, plain and simple,” Taggart said, less abrasively. “Take the poisonous tree frog. Pretty little thing, isn’t it? But it’s all a tactic. It draws you in, that beauty, right before it poisons you. I’m just trying to protect you from what you don’t know.”

“I stared him right in the eyes, Sheriff, and you don’t think I know? How many of you have gotten that close?”

Him. Henry shuddered deep in his chest at the word choice. The sensation almost took his breath. He’d never heard anyone refer to the beast as a him, rather than an it.

Nicole almost laughed. “Him?”

Taggart sighed in impatience. “That don’t matter. What matters is I’m the law around here, Ms. Ashton. You’re welcome here as long as you need, but while you’re here, you stay away from those woods, just like we discussed. None of this ‘only during the night’ business.”

And that was why Henry let Taggart run things around here.

Their stare-down lasted mere seconds. “I respect that. After all, this is your town.”

Taggart nodded. “On to other business,” he said at everyone else. “Elizabeth’s locket ain’t all we found out there this morning. We found the devil’s blood.”

“So you did get him!” Nicole said at Eustace, nearly squealing.

Everyone’s mood cheered at once, the discovery lifting the weighted air. Only Ms. Ashton, just like Henry, didn’t seem impressed. Instead, she reached for Eustace’s hand, inspecting the white bandage that was soaked through at his palm. A look of concern shadowed her brow. “Eustace, this needs to be changed.”