“Please, dear.” Caldenia glanced at Orro. “She obtained testimonials from the Khanum of the Horde, three Houses of the Holy Anocracy, Clan Nuan, and myself. That is enough recommendations to rejuvenate your career.”
Orro moved. His hand shot out, blur-fast. A tiny cupcake landed on the table in front of me, decorated with a swirl of bright yellow cream and a tiny flower made from fondant. The delicate aroma of mango filled the air.
“For me?”
He nodded.
“Thank you.”
He made a harrumph-like noise and moved again. I looked down at the grocery-store flier deposited on the table. He’d circled a sale on strawberries and cherries.
“I need these things. I cannot make breakfast with thin air.”
I blinked.
“And dinner. I will need these.” He flipped the page and pointed to pork chops.
“Orro, I can’t afford to keep you. You’re a Red Cleaver chef. I barely even have guests…”
His chest swelled. His needles stood up, making him even larger. “This is an inn. An inn needs a chef. You can’t afford not to keep me. You don’t even have a gastronomic coagulator!”
“Orro…”
“If I leave, you would ruin this kitchen.” He raised his chin. “I have spoken.”
He turned, went inside, and slammed the screen door behind him.
I remembered to close my mouth.
“Oh thank the stars.” Caldenia exhaled. “No offense to your cooking, but the thought of going back to it was causing me actual anxiety.”
I licked the icing on my cupcake. It was delicious. Mmmm, mango.
“Where is your werewolf?” Caldenia arched her eyebrows.
An hour ago Sean and Nuan Cee had walked out into the dark night. I watched as the armor melted off Sean Evans and his body slimmed down to his human form. He took a deep breath, looked at the moon, handed his armor to the Merchant, and walked away.
“He’ll come around,” I told her and licked my cupcake again, savoring the taste. “I’m sure of it.”
“Things he has seen. Things he has been through. I’ve had affairs with men damaged by war. It is an uphill battle. You do realize this will be exceedingly difficult?”
“I know,” I told her.
“Very well.” Her Grace leaned back. “At least this will be interesting to watch. One must do something for entertainment around here.”
I laughed and ate my cupcake.
Epilogue
The Innkeeper Directory lay open on my lap, a plain book issued by Innkeeper Assembly. Nothing special, except for a fact that it listed all the inns on the planet. It came out monthly. By now the news of the disaster at Gertrude Hunt would’ve spread. Guests died on inn’s grounds. I braced myself. I would lose at least half a star. Maybe more. With the inn at two and a half stars, any drop in rating might as well be a death sentence.
It was Thursday night. The sky behind my windows was dark.
I had spent the past three days sleeping, stuffing my face, and sleeping some more. Nightmares came and went, fading remnants of the Nexus memories, but I accepted them. I knew why they were there, I didn’t have to wonder what they meant, and it made things easier. I just had to wait them out, like the pain of a healing wound.
I’ve been dreading the Directory’s appearance. Here it was. Nothing I could do about it.
I held my breath and flipped to the News and Changes section. The name Gertrude Hunt stood out in bold, indicating changes. Two and a half stars.
What?
Maybe they didn’t know. No, they had to know. It’s not like you could’ve hidden something as huge as the Peace Summit between Anocracy and the Horde.
I scanned the small footnote under the entry.
The Office of Arbitration thanks Gertrude Hunt for their hospitality and their unwavering support in most extraordinary of circumstances. We look forward to our next visit.
Cold sweat broke out on my hairline. An endorsement. It was an endorsement from the Office of Arbitration. The Office didn’t do endorsements. That was like getting a public thank you from the British Royal Family. Under ordinary circumstances, it would’ve catapulted my rating up an entire star, but it remained the same.
They knew, I realized. The Innkeeper Assembly knew I had screwed up, but the public thank you from the Office Arbitration carried so much weight, they chose to ignore it.
George saved my rating.
I remembered to breathe.
I won, I realized. Gertrude Hunt got a boost from the guests, our bank account got a boost from the Office of Arbitration, and we had kept our rating. I grinned.
I won.
The inn chimed, announcing a guest.
I reached out with my magic. The newcomer felt familiar.
The still-nameless cat and Beast looked at me. I made big eyes at them. Well, how about that?
A knock sounded. I got up and opened the door.
Sean Evans stood on my porch. He wore jeans, running shoes, and a plain gray T-shirt. The scars still crossed his face, and his eyes were still dark with memories. I searched them for the hopelessness I had seen before and I couldn’t find it.
“Hi,” he said.
“Hi.”
“It’s ’80s night at the Sims Theater,” he said.
Sims was our local answer to a movie and dining. It came equipped with small tables, and once you ordered from a menu, a speedy and nearly invisible crew of servers would deliver your food while you watched the movie.
“What’s playing?” I asked, keeping my voice light.
“Big Trouble in Little China.”
I grinned.
“I have two tickets,” he said. “Would you like to come?”
“I would.” I grabbed my purse from the table and stepped out. “I think I totally deserve a night off.”
“Lucky for me.”
Behind me, the inn shuttered itself. It would be okay for a couple of hours.
We walked down the long driveway to a Range Rover parked by the street. I liked this. I liked walking next to him.
“So what did you tell the neighbors about your absence?” I asked.
“I told them the truth. I took a job in a faraway place to make some money and broaden my horizons.”
We reached the car. Sean peered at the side street and swore.
A brief wail of a siren cut through the night, and Officer Marais’s cruiser slid out of the side street and stopped next to us, facing in the opposite direction.
Oh no.
“Is there a problem, Officer?” Sean asked.
“We have a movie to catch,” I added.
Officer Marais rolled down his window. “I had a five-day training session in Houston last week. I don’t like leaving my family alone overnight, so instead of them flying me, every day I drove to Houston and back.”
“That’s a long trip,” Sean said. His voice was deceptively calm. We were off the inn’s grounds. If he snapped and yanked Marais out of the cruiser, there wouldn’t be much I would be able to do to stop him.
“Two hundred and seventy miles every day,” Officer Marais said. “Plus all the driving around Houston. I put fourteen hundred miles on my odometer.”
“That’s very nice,” I said.
“I’d gassed up on Monday before going to Houston.”
Aha.
“I’m still at a quarter of a tank.”
Oh shit.
“It’s great what the Dodge Charger is doing with fuel efficiency these days,” Sean said, his face calm.
Damn it, Hardwir.
“Sure. This isn’t over.” Officer Marais smiled, showing his teeth. “Enjoy your movie.”
The cruiser slid past us and drove into the night.
Discover More by Ilona Andrews