Page 96 of Tested

The attitude drains out of his expression the way rain washes a chalk drawing off the sidewalk. He ends up frowning, a little bit lost, gazing at the floor. “I’m not sure he’ll want my help, but maybe you should start at the beginning.”

“And maybe you should put a shirt on and come downstairs. Sheena’s here and so are Lydia and a bunch of her girls.”

“You’re serious.”

“Hell yes. Stone’s here, too, but he and his guys can’t get through the police blockade.”

“Wow.”

“I’ll see you in a few minutes.” Heading for the stairs, I give a final glance over my shoulder. Trajan’s still in the doorway, expression still shocked. Before I hit the bottom stair, though, he’s turned the music off.

Good.

It’s dark enough that the SWAT team turns on a pair of search lights and aims them at the house, making it impossible to see anything out all the windows on the street side. Trajan comes downstairs wearing jeans and a grey hoodie, his hair slicked down. I can tell at a glance he’s only used water, which means he’ll be playing Norman again in five minutes. Still, he uses his manners to greet our guests and gives Sheena a kiss on the top of her head. The long look he gives Connor would take too many words to describe, and when it’s over, we all scoot our chairs around so he can pull another seat up to the table.

“Would one of you like to explain how we got here?”

Connor starts talking. He begins with a meeting between him, Poole, and someone named Ananda Pendragon and finishes up with marching Joey in here. And then he reaches across the table, almost but not quite touching Trajan’s hand.

“I’m sorry,mo shíorghrá.I should have ignored Poole’s request that I keep the investigation a secret.”

Trajan covers Connor’s hand with his own. “If you hadn’t, more than likely when I met with Jacques, he would have forced it out of me.”

“As it is…” Connor interlaces his fingers with Trajan. “David says the three of us will have to come up with a plan—”

“Because I won’t obey my maker.”

“I believe you.”

I swear to goddess I exhale for the first time in about six hours and flop back in my chair. “Sweet Jesus on a breadstick. Can we preserve this moment for future reference?”

“Hush, puppy,” Trajan says, one side of his mouth flickering into something like a smile.

Connor’s shoulders drop, too, as if he’s let go of something really heavy.

“Hate to interrupt your little Hallmark moment,” Sheena says, “but I think I have a plan.”

We all look at her, though I’m gratified to note that Trajan doesn’t let go of Connor’s hand.

“So the LAPD wants Connor to come out, and our assumption is that Smith has set him up for arrest.”

“Yes,” Connor says, and Lydia and I both nod.

“What if we all went out and demanded to talk to the supernatural liaison?”

“Smith?” Trajan asks.

“Yeah, Smith. I mean, we live in LA, so we’re under the authority of the LAPD, but we’re not ordinary citizens. We demand that they pull their troops back and that Smith meet with us.”

“Assuming he agrees, what then?” Connor’s expression is too weary for hope.

“Then we let him know that as representatives of the supernatural community, we’re going to make sure he suffers consequences for the games he’s playing.”

She says it casually, as if theconsequencesare no more serious than being forced to drink cold coffee.

Coffee? I could totally use some coffee. Since I’m playing hostess, I run to the kitchen to brew another pot. When I come back, they’re drawing straws for who’ll approach the SWAT team. Lydia wins, but Trajan snatches the straws out of her hand.

“Of all of us, I’m the most likely to survive a stray bullet. I’ll go demand a conference.”