“Your grandmother…”
“Isn’t here. I am. Don’t look in the mirror, just keep walking.”
If he’d been Human, he wouldn’t have made it up the stairs. She could feel him trembling, forcing each leg to rise and pull himself up the next step. She didn’t help, but she made it clear she’d be there if he fell.
When he was standing, staring stupidly around the apartment’s big open room, she gave him a gentle shove toward the bathroom. “Go shower and toss your clothes out, I was going to run a load of laundry, and I can easily throw them in. If you don’t mind that it says Niko, I’ve got sweats you can wear until they’re dry.”
“Niko?”
“Misprints. There’s a couple of boxes of them in the spare room. Go on,” she added when it looked like he might be gathering enough energy to argue. “Pancakes will be ready when you are.”
He blinked at her, shook his head like he couldn’t quite believe he was doing it, and shuffled off to the bathroom.
Allie snorted as she pulled the big mixing bowl down off the shelf. Twenty-four years of handling Gale boys made handling the Fey a piece of cake. She’d been getting David to the table since she was five.
When Joe sat down, his hair tucked wet behind his ears, points exposed, she slid a plate of six steaming pancakes—nearly as big around as the plate they were on and half an inch thick—in front of him. “I’m afraid we’ve only got maple syrup,” she told him, sliding the bottle across. “There’s a bottle of blueberry syrup in the pantry, but since it probably came from Auntie Jane, it’d be safer if we didn’t open it.”
“She charmed it, then?”
“If she made it for Gran, she likely poisoned it.”
“Poisoned?” His voice rose a little on the second syllable. Not quite far enough to be called a squeak.
“Apples are more traditional, but Auntie Jane has a thing for blueberries.”
“You’re kidding?”
Allie smiled. “Eat up, you don’t want your pancakes to get cold.”
The first forkful dripping with butter and syrup slid tentatively between pale lips. The second forkful rose a lot more enthusiastically. “These are good!”
“Of course they are.” Allie had two smaller pancakes on her plate, mostly just to keep him company while he ate. When he finished, she smiled and said, “So what happened last night?”
While it was true that the way to a man’s heart was through his stomach, Gale girls tended to believe food should be more inclusive.
Joe pushed the last bit of syrup around his plate with his fingertip. “I got jumped by a guy with a gun.”
“You got jumped?” Her turn to stare in disbelief. Calgary had some hard-assed petty criminals if the Fey were getting mugged.
“He knew what I was, didn’t he? Tasered me first. Tied my hands.”
“Tied?” She took one hand in hers and gently pushed the sweatshirt cuff up. Not even the faintest residue of a binding.
“Well, it wasn’t just the ties, was it? I could have broke them, sure, but he had a gun, here.” Two stiffened fingers tapped his head just below his right ear. “Told me he had Blessed rounds, then he asked me what I knew. Asked if the UnderRealm had been in contact with me.”
“So what do you know, Joe?”
“I know about the dragons.”
“I’ve seen them.” Still holding his hand, she glanced toward the window. “Well, seen them pass, which is almost the same thing.”
“No, it’s not. They’re…”
Bigger. Scalier. Toothier. Definitely scarier in person. “It’s okay. I know. Has the UnderRealm been in contact with you?”
“No, and like I told him, I wouldn’t fucking listen if they had. Then he wanted to know what I was doing in the store. I told him I was working here.” His eyes widened as he suddenly realized what he’d been saying, and he yanked his hand free. “You enchanted me!”
“Yes.”
“He told me he’d kill me if I told anyone!”
Allie kept her tone matter-of-fact. “How will he know you told me?”
“He has a truth thing! A silver thing. You can’t lie when it’s on you! He’ll know I told you and he’ll kill me! He had Blessed rounds! True death!”
“Joe! Stop it!” When he froze, she took his hands, thumbs stroking the backs. “If he threatens you again, he’s in for a surprise.”
“What have you…” He stared at the backs of his hands, eyes wide, the charms clearly visible to him. “You can’t.”
Allie shrugged. “I just did.”
“You don’t speak for your whole family!”
“Actually, we all speak for the whole family.” She knew better than to look deep into his eyes so she stared sincerely at a freckle in the middle of his forehead. “That’s what family is, Joe, we stand by each other, no matter what.”
“You just told me your Auntie Jane was trying to poison your grandmother!”
“Doesn’t count. If I call, they’ll come. If he touches you, he’ll know that.”
“And if he shoots me from a distance?”
“Then it won’t matter if you told me or not since he clearly has his own agenda.”
Joe frowned, shifting the freckle. “That’s not particularly comforting!”
“Sorry. He didn’t happen to mention what that agenda was, did he? I mean, the level of threat does not match the level of his interrogation. We’ve got a big, big threat.” She spread their joined hands apart, then moved them closer together. “Little bitty questions.”
“He wasn’t after explaining himself, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“Pity.”
“You think he had something to do with your grandmother’s disappearance, then?”
“I think my grandmother disappeared, and now there’s an armed man threatening someone who just started working at her store. My store. There’s got to be a connection. There’s the wash done.” She let go of his hands. “I’ll just toss everything in the dryer.”
He rubbed his right hand over the back of his left and had no effect on the charm. “What does it actually say?”
“It’s complicated, but basically…” Allie thought of him translucent one day and panicked the next, curled up on her doorstep terrified, and gentled her voice. “… it says, hands off.”
He seemed almost content about that, so she didn’t regret lying to him.
A more accurate translation would be mine.
“Someone’s watching the store.”
“Who?”
Allie rolled her eyes and glanced toward the bathroom door. Joe wouldn’t be in there much longer. “I don’t know who, Auntie Jane. But he carries a gun with Blessed rounds and has access to an artifact charmed to force the truth.”
“It’s entirely possible he bought the artifact from your grandmother,” Auntie Jane snorted. “I assume Catherine has charms in place keeping the family business from being broadcast to all and sundry?”
“Yes, but…”
“Then let him watch. If he actually wants to see something, he’ll have to come through the door.”
“And then?”
“Oh, for pity’s sake, Alysha Catherine, use your imagination.”
“A reporter?”
“For The Western Star.” Allie restacked the latest pile of saucers and added the number to the catalog. So far, she’d counted fifty-seven saucers with no cups and two cups with no saucers.
“That piece of shite.” Joe swept the dirt into the dustpan and straightened. “And he was talking to your grandmother?”
“Apparently.”
“You don’t believe him, then?”
“I believe he has his own agenda and the bluest eyes I’ve ever seen.”
“So you’re having coffee with him because of his eyes?”
Allie shrugged, pulled out a basket of oddly shaped candles, and put it back onto the shelf, not up to dealing with the mix of scents. “I need to know what his agenda is. How much he thinks he knows about the family.”
“He won’t know anything about the family, will he? Worst he’ll know is bits about your grandmother.”
“That’s bits about the family.”
“You lot are right clannish.”
“That’s what I keep trying to tell you.”