Page 104

“The vehicle is inconspicuous, but I highly recommend you travel straight home. If that is what you desire,” he swiftly amends, obviously afraid to say the wrong thing. Based on her behavior, it’s hard to tell what will upset her and what won’t.

I feel your pain, guard.

“Yes,” she sighs with relief. “That sounds amazing, actually.”

He gives her a dopey smile, assuming she’s the nicest person he’s ever met, I’m sure. Or maybe hoping for a chance to court her.

My lips peel back aggressively, and the faery startles in place.

He flies off as a sleek black vehicle, similar to many used all over the territory, pulls up and rolls to a quiet stop in front of us. The SUV is big enough to hold several people comfortably.

Before I can do the gentlemanly thing and open the door for her, she steps away from me. She wrenches it open, braced as if expecting an attack. After a second, she cautiously enters, and her eyes scan the interior quickly before she chooses a seat.

Mike frowns at her paranoid behavior because it’s certainly not comforting. I gesture him forward and follow him quickly.

Mike and I sit on the bench facing the front of the vehicle. At the same time, Beatrice has chosen one of the middle individual seats facing the rear, directly behind our driver.

Her eyes quickly scan everything inside again, noting details as I watch, perplexed. As the vehicle starts forward, the automatic locks engage, and her eyes note it. She turns her head and looks at the front passenger seat. I can’t see from this vantage point if it is locked, but I assume so. Then she turns her body until her back rests against the door awkwardly, giving herself a clearer view of the position of the fae driving, and brings her knees up to prop her feet on the seat.

What does it feel like to have that level of paranoia? How does she even survive the stress?

This female is such a contradiction of behaviors it boggles the mind.

Her hair is in wild disarray, her clothes don’t fit properly, and her shoelaces are untied.

But she knows what the driver is doing, is watching him control the vehicle as if memorizing how he’s doing it, and is that aknife? Where did she get aknife from? She’s holding it comfortably, positioning it for a preemptive strike against the poor fae if he makes a single wrong move while looking as bored as a rebellious teenager unwillingly going to her fiftieth debutante ball.

“I have it here,” Mike says excitedly.

Her eyes slice right into his soul when she glares at him.

“Not now, Mike,” she says lightly as if she’s bored with him, but her eyes narrow into malicious slits.

His mouth opens a few times before he snaps it shut, watching her warily.

She turns back to subtly watch the driver again, and the rest of the ride ensues in silence.

18. One by One

I make sure that Mike gets out of the SUV after Mal. I don’t know what he has, but I don’t like it. I don’t like him being here, either. The amount of knowledge he has on dragon behavior and the fact that he called me a mender concerns me.

Then again, he’s headed into a house full of homicidal maniacs, so I’m considering it a safe call. It’s not like he’ll get out if he’s some kind of Human spy.

He’s definitely terrified. He was horrified that we left the scene of a crime without qualm. Everything points to him being a Human caught up in things he doesn’t understand. Trying to blurt out whatever he has in the vehicle without regard to the fact that someone we don’t know was driving us? And who knows how many faeries hitching a ride? I never noticed they were in the truck until they bailed out at the first sign of trouble.

I guess bailed out isn’t the right way to put it. More like eagerly committed crimes at the first opportunity. I need to reassess this friendship with Mab ASAP.

All this useless worrying comes to a halt, much like Mike does when he walks face-first into the ward and bounces back to fall on his ass. He had been following close to Mal with no idea what was coming. I forgot the thing was even there. What’s Mal’s excuse?

I eye the knowing smirk that flits across his face as he continues his stately walk towards the front door.

No excuse, just pure mischief. Who knew he had it in him?

“Sorry about that, Mike.” I wince as he rubs his nose and his eyes water.

I have no idea why I’m apologizing to him. I don’t trust the guy. What happened to me being a stone-cold bitch? Am I maturing or something? If this is growing up, I don’t want it.

“Mal, would you mind asking Ben if he can lift the ward for him?” I’m sure the answer will be no, and he’ll just ignore me. Why am I bothering to ask?