“Don’t forget the dog collar,” Derek said.
“Not a collar, a torque,” I said. “Collars open at the back. This one opened from the front.”
“What kind of a torque?” Julie asked. “Scythian? Thracian?”
“Heavy, ornate, with three stylized gold claws.”
“And you’re sure it wasn’t your dad in disguise?” Curran asked.
“Yes. The eyes were different.”
My husband crossed his arms. “How long did you gaze into his eyes, exactly?”
“About three seconds, while I waited for him to speak.” I pointed my teaspoon at him. “I know what you’re thinking. Stop thinking it.”
Julie kept a straight face, but her eyes laughed at me from above the rim of her cup. Derek appeared stoic.
“What am I supposed to think? First, someone sends you a red rose.”
“And a knife. And a box full of ash.”
“Exactly. Is it a threat? Is it a conditional declaration of war?”
I shrugged. “Maybe it’s a gift from a socially awkward horticulturalist.”
Julie laughed into her tea. Derek pretended not to hear, but the corners of his mouth curved up.
“Sure it is. Then you call your dad and some golden-haired pretty boy shows up dressed to impress.”
I waved my spoon. “I agree with you there. Nobody prances around in a fur-lined cloak in the middle of the Atlanta summer with perfectly brushed hair. It looked like he sensed my fire call, put on all of his regal things, prepared a speech, and only then cut in.”
“And then tech hit.” Derek flashed a quick smile.
Curran leaned on the table. “So, you tell me how I’m supposed to feel about that. On top of everything else, your aunt blew up the Jeep and overextended herself.”
My aunt had a very difficult time manifesting during tech, and with most of her power spent on that firebomb, she would be sleeping for a while. I’d tried her dagger when we got home and gotten only silence.
I spread my arms. “How is that my fault?”
“I never said it was. I’m expressing my general frustration with this situation.”
“I’m frustrated, too. I’ve got Serenbe. Two hundred people are gone, and their families have no answers. I’ve got dead Mr. Tucker, Yu Fong in a coma, ancient creatures popping out of my aunt’s nightmares and attacking us, my dad mobilizing, and on top of that there is a fae assassin running around in our city likely hoping to kill you, me, or our son, preferably all three. My cup runneth over and I have zero answers. Zilch. Nada.”
We stared at each other.
“We should spar,” he said. “We will both feel better.”
Yes. I needed to punch and kick and do things so badly, my limbs ached. “That’s a good idea. No; that’s the best idea ever.”
Someone knocked on the front door. Derek sniffed the air, picked up a large knife, and hefted it in his hand.
“What?” I asked.
“The pervert,” Derek said, and started toward the door.
Oh no, you don’t. “I’ll get it.”
I beat Derek to the door and swung it open. A man stood on our doorstep, wearing gray pants, a light-gray button-down shirt rolled up to the elbows, and tired dark shoes. Bald. Average height, average build, unremarkable features, neither handsome nor ugly. You’d pass him in a crowd and never give him a second glance. Saiman in his neutral form, a clean slate for a polymorph who could impersonate any human on the face of the planet. Behind him a dark van with tinted windows waited in our driveway.
I checked his eyes for the usual sharp intelligence. It was there, together with apprehension.
“What’s the emergency?”
“Emergency?” Saiman raised his eyebrows.
“Yes. What bad thing happened to make you show up here? What did you do?”
“Nothing.”
I rubbed my forehead. “My husband is generally frustrated and so am I, so it’s in everyone’s best interests if you tell me why you’re here quickly.”
Saiman hesitated for a moment. “I don’t have a body.”
I reached out and touched his shoulder with my index finger. “I’ve just conducted a field test and it appears you do have a body. Good night.”
“I didn’t get a body. Biohazard, the Order, and the Pack received a body. I’m the best arcane expert in Atlanta, with a state-of-the-art lab, and you haven’t sent me one.”
Oh. “I didn’t send you a body because you would charge me an arm and a leg for it.” There were way too many puns in that sentence for my liking. “I’m not interested in your services. Your price is too high.”
Saiman took a deep breath, as if he were about to jump off a cliff. “I’ll examine it gratis.”
I pinched my arm.
A hint of the old Saiman’s arrogance crept into his eyes. “Really, Kate, this is childish.”
I turned back to the kitchen and called out, “Saiman is here and he wants to help us for free.”
Derek clamped his hand to his chest and dropped to the floor.
“Oh gods!” Julie waved her hands. “Hide the children. The Apocalypse is coming. The werewolves are fainting!”
Saiman spared them a single glance. “They were perfectly reasonable before. This is the result of prolonged exposure and proves my theory.”
“And what would that be?”
“You’re contagious.”
Julie rushed over to Derek. “No, no, that’s okay. He hasn’t fainted. He just has the vapors! False alarm.”
Saiman looked to be in physical pain. “None of this is funny.”
“All of that ability to transform and you can’t develop a sense of humor. Cheer up, Saiman. The ice of Jotunheim is far away. Your folks won’t know if you crack a smile.”
Saiman sighed, opened his mouth, and froze, his gaze fixed behind me. I glanced over my shoulder. Curran loomed in the hallway. My husband had a talent for emanating threat simply by standing still, and right now he was exercising this gift to its full extent. If menace were heat, the walls around me would’ve caught on fire.
“I’m here to help,” Saiman said quietly.
Derek rolled to his feet.
“What’s the catch?” I asked. “What do you want? I don’t want to owe you anything.”
“Nothing. No strings attached.”
There were few absolute truths in this world, but the fact that Saiman never did anything without expecting a payoff was surely one of them.
“Can you transform during tech?” Curran asked.
Saiman drew himself to his full height. “Yes.”
“Good. Come inside.”
“Excuse me.” Saiman stepped into the hallway and walked past me to the kitchen.
His Furriness was so laser focused on the blond dude, he was willing to work with Saiman. And this wouldn’t end badly. Not at all.
“Kate tried to fire call her father tonight,” Curran said.
“Fire call?” Saiman asked me.
“Later,” I told him.
“Someone cut in. I want to know what he looked like,” Curran said. “Can you do this?”
Saiman smiled. “Of course.”
“Good. Julie, get the Polaroid camera.”
Saiman rubbed his hands together. The skin on his face crawled, as if a pool ball rolled under it. My stomach screeched in alarm and tried to empty itself.
“Really?” Derek raised his eyebrows.
“He’s a weird pervert, but he is our weird pervert and he came here to help. Let him help,” I said.
Derek frowned.
Curran gave him a hard look. “When you have to, use every resource available.”
“Ready when you are,” Saiman said.
There was no escaping it. I sighed and started. “Square jaw . . .”