Page 27

Leopold

L eopold had planned to advise Crispin to sue Keebler for cultural appropriation—if that was a thing in the…

Connected Worlds? Was that how the Mother of Fae had referred to her realm?

Crispin’s home looked like something right out of a cookie advertisement, only larger and better.

Leopold would have preferred more clutter, maybe a few precarious piles of things here and there, but he liked the place nonetheless.

Even better, he enjoyed lying in bed with Crispin stroking his face and kissing him, and he had been hoping things would progress satisfactorily from there…

when suddenly the not-cat raised a fuss and someone knocked on the door.

Crispin had simply sighed in response, but Leopold was in absolutely no mood for peopling.

Or for ogreing or elfing or anything but alone time with Crispin followed by a long sleep in a good bed.

And maybe a shower. He seriously considered zapping whoever it was to somewhere far away.

But then a man stepped inside the treehouse, and Leopold reconsidered.

The guy was… godlike was probably the best description Leopold could think of.

God as in Greek god, or maybe Thor as played by Chris Hemsworth.

Well over six feet tall, with broad shoulders and a bodybuilder physique.

Waist-length hair that shone like spun gold, amethyst-colored eyes, and a square chin with a genuine goddamn cleft.

He wore what appeared to be an expensive custom suit and pale pink shirt with the top buttons artfully undone.

He was a romance-novel cover come to life, and Leopold was suspicious of him at once. Crispin’s extremely nervous expression didn’t help one bit.

“Uh, Qylzryd, this is, my Leo—um, Leopold Lane.” Crispin managed a weak smile. “Leo, this is Qylzryd Wolfsword.”

They shook hands, and of course Qylzryd’s paw dwarfed Leopold’s hand, and his grip could have compressed iron. “A pleasure to meet you,” he boomed. Ugh, his smile looked like something from a dentist’s billboard.

Crispin was doing a nervous twitching thing. “Um, Qyl? Nice of you to drop by, but we were kind of busy?—”

“I can see that.” Qylzryd waved at Leopold’s bare chest.

What happened to my shirt? Leopold had obviously lost track of some recent details.

“Look, Qyl. Now is not a good time for whatever?—”

The man talked right over him. “Remember that wonderful restaurant we went to? The one that served wild game I hunted myself? Well, yesterday I shot a huge gamjeebeast—probably a record-breaker—and that restaurant is going to have some gorgeous gamjeebeast steaks tonight. Come with me. My treat.” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Before Leopold could work up an appropriate response—like turning Qylzryd into a pumpkin—Crispin intervened. “Leo, Qyl and I?—”

“Are lovers,” Qylzryd interrupted.

“ Were lovers. I mean, barely even…. It was a two-night stand. Three years ago.” Crispin narrowed his eyes. “And you weren’t that great. Why are you here?”

Leopold realized he didn’t look very scary, especially shirtless and…

god, in his underwear. He wasn’t tall and didn’t have abs of steel.

But he was Chaos Personified, dammit, and that should mean something.

Like that this ex had better skedaddle, pronto.

“We were busy,” Leopold said with what he hoped was a cold glare.

“Get lost before I do something you’ll regret. ”

“You?” Qylzryd scoffed. He took a step closer, towering over Leopold and bending his arms to flex his biceps.

Okay, not even a pumpkin. Squashhood was too good for this jerk.

Leopold was going to turn him into something disgusting, like a hunk of cheese that had been sitting in the back of a refrigerator for a couple of years.

Or maybe that weird pinkish slimy stuff that sometimes appeared near the shower drain in one of Leopold’s former apartments.

Before he could make a decision—and he did note that Crispin was doing nothing to deter him—there was another knock at the door. Crispin threw his hands up in annoyance, stomped over, and flung the door open.

This time it was someone Leopold did recognize. Juzir the archosaur rushed inside, almost knocking Crispin over, and threw something that looked like a Super Ball at Leopold. When the object hit Leopold’s chest, it disintegrated into a little puff of sparkly powder.

And suddenly Leopold couldn’t move. Like, at all.

Well, his lungs and heart still functioned, which was good, and he could roll his eyes and blink.

But otherwise he was as motionless as a marble statue.

He couldn’t even make any sound except a slight groan.

And when he tried to muster his Chaos powers… zilch.

Crispin gave an angry roar. He ran to Leopold, shouting, and shook him, but all he succeeded in doing was to knock Leopold to the floor. It hurt when Leopold’s shoulder landed, but at least his stiff neck kept his head from conking against the wood.

“What in all seven Dicharthian hells!” Crispin yelled. He tried to get at Juzir, possibly to physically attack him, but Qylzryd stepped between them and kept Crispin away.

“I am really sorry,” said Juzir, peeking out from behind the big man.

Crispin roared again, quite capably. “What did you do to him?” His voice had reached a volume Leopold never would have expected from a well-behaved desk fae.

“Nothing bad, don’t worry. It’s an immobilization spell combined with a damper hex so he can’t do anything… unwise.”

“He didn’t mean to blow up your bathroom!”

“He blew up your bathroom?” Qylzryd started laughing, and Leopold found that, yes, he could hate him even more than he had initially.

Then Minkis dropped down from a branch, bit Qylzryd hard in the shin, and darted away.

Although it didn’t make Qylzryd drop his guard, his laughter turned into a muttering growl as his expensive suit pants were marred by a growing bloodstain, which Leopold found gratifying.

Juzir had his three-fingered hands up. “This isn’t about the bathroom, Crispin.

Your employers called and asked for some help.

You can’t have something dangerous like that”—he pointed at Leopold—“just running around!” Leopold very much wished he could at least call Juzir some choice names. He couldn’t even scowl properly.

Crispin was still furious. “He’s a he , not a that . And I love him.”

“That’s not even a real person, buddy. That’s Chaos Incarnate, and the damage it could cause…. The damage it’s already caused! I’ve heard a couple of reports about your mother’s court, and they don’t sound good.”

At this point Leopold was ready to turn everyone but Crispin and Minkis into the stuff you scrape off your shoes after walking through a cow pasture. But he couldn’t, and when he strained his hardest to use his powers, it hurt as if someone had dumped ground glass into his chest cavity.

“You can’t do this!” Crispin’s face was bright red with anger. “I thought you were my friend.”

Juzir might have blushed, but how could you tell with a dinosaur? Anyway, he should have blushed. “I am. But this situation’s just too dangerous. I’m sorry.”

A small chaotic scene followed, unfortunately none of it induced by Leopold’s now-deactivated powers.

Qylzryd hoisted him up and over his shoulder as if Leopold were a length of tree trunk.

Crispin surged forward in an attempt to stop him, but Juzir threw a rubber ball at him this time, and then Crispin was frozen in midair, his face fixed in an expression of horror and rage.

Minkis bit Qylzryd again—this time on the other leg—and then Juzir froze him too.

Crispin made desperate grunting noises, which Leopold knew from personal experience were the equivalent of trying to bodily throw himself at Juzir to claw his neck out. He’d never loved his fae more.

“Don’t worry,” Juzir said to Crispin. “The spell will wear off soon.” He marched out the door with Qylzryd hard at his heels.

Leopold caught one last glimpse of the Crispin-statue suspended some feet above the floor before Leopold was hauled through the door.