Chapter 9
“Stop fussing, Gaston.” The outline of her supine body barely visible under the mountain of cashmere throws Max had already piled atop her, Edie pushed away her boyfriend’s latest offering. “The next thousand-dollar blanket you put on me, I’m using as a napkin when I eat my buffalo wings.”
At the moment, Edie—a common human woman of uncommon spirit, determination, and kindness, in Gwen’s view—was lying on an elaborate satin chaise, of the sort one might find in Versailles.
Hells, maybe it truly had come from the Sun King’s furniture collection, given Max’s French background and indeterminate but very advanced age.
Either way, Edie didn’t appear at all overawed by the luxury surrounding her or the powerful vampire at her side. Who was, in fact, fussing over her.
“Buffalo wings?” Outrage creased Max’s broad forehead. “You wouldn’t.”
“You know I would.”
“Dammit, Edie,” he complained.
As the couple continued to bicker happily, Gwen snuck another curious glance around the library where she and everyone else had settled.
After Max had greeted his visitors on the sagging front porch of his dilapidated 1960s ranch house, he’d led them to a hidden elevator that ushered them deep beneath the earth’s surface.
That elevator had opened into this room: a lovely, cozy library, with stained-glass lamps that cast a soft glow over honey-toned antique wood and silk upholstery.
The only off note: a gorgeous, thick rug on the floor whose numerous rusty stains indicated significant bloodshed. Probably Max’s rather than Edie’s, since she wouldn’t have survived such wholesale exsanguination.
Gwen figured he simply hadn’t had time to replace it yet, given the disruption of recent events.
And by recent events, she meant the zombie breach, of course—but also his acquisition of a stubborn common human girlfriend who was still recovering from her own life-threatening injuries.
She’d come so close to dying, in fact, that she’d actually chatted with a reaper, who’d arrived in expectation of guiding Edie to whatever afterlife destination Death and the Fates had considered suitable for her.
With most of the newly dead, that destination—for good or ill—was apparently quite straightforward.
In a few cases, however, an argument could be made for various outcomes.
Whereupon a reaper would accompany their charge to the Realm Below, the ancestral domain of Death and the Fates, and into a courtroom where an assigned demon lawyer would argue on behalf of their recently deceased client.
From what Gwen knew about Edie, she figured the common human’s eventual afterlife wouldn’t require a trial and would contain only good things. Assuming Max let her die at all. Which he probably wouldn’t, based on what Gwen had overheard several hours ago.
She was doing her best not to envy that kind of devoted love.
Without warning, Hugh rose from where he sat beside her on a gracefully curved settee, walked over to the chaise, and collected the blanket rejected by Edie.
Shaking it out, he silently offered it to Gwen.
She accepted it with a mouthed thank you and smiled up at him as he protectively tucked the blanket’s luxuriously soft folds around her.
The only thing that would make this moment better?
If Hugh’s bare chest and arms weren’t covered by a thick black sweater.
Unfortunately, though, everyone had been given time to wash up and change after Sabrina had done some basic healing on Hugh and Kip.
By the time Hugh had emerged from Max’s palatial marble bathroom, all traces of Prince had disappeared…
other than a bit of eyeliner the demon had missed.
She hoped he didn’t notice it anytime soon.
When he sat again, his left hip and firm leg pressed tightly to hers. Even through the blanket, the heat of his body rivaled the fire in the library’s hearth.
She shivered. Not from cold.
“Apologies.” His gaze caught hers. Held. “If you wish, I can move farther—”
He tensed as if to rise, and she caught his arm and kept him in place.
“No.” Her throat had gone Mojave dry. “Please stay where you are.”
The corner of his mouth twitched. “You’re certain?”
“Definitely.” Too tired for shame, she let herself lean infinitesimally into the unyielding support of his slim, strong frame. “You’re so warm.”
For some reason, his face dropped a little. “Ah. Very well.”
Clearing his throat, he directed his attention across the library, where their host and his girlfriend were still arguing.
At that point, Sabrina lost her already-strained patience and interrupted the drama.
“For fuck’s sake.” Sitting up straight in her brocade armchair, the witch pointed at Edie. “She’ll be fine, you overbearing mother hen of a vamp. I’ve checked her over multiple times, as you know. She just needs rest. And I need to get back to my wife, so—”
“Is everyone still squabbling over Sir Edes-a-lot’s buffalo wings?
” Lorrie appeared in the doorway, closely followed by Kip.
Pleased satisfaction shone bright in the cousins’ matching grins, and an unidentified orangish-red smear marred Lorrie’s left cheek.
“If so, crisis averted. We ate them, along with everything else in the fridge. You’re welcome. ”
Gwen’s stomach rumbled longingly, and Hugh frowned at the trolls. Then he stood again in one decisive movement and left the library for reasons unknown.
As she stared after the demon, oddly bereft, Max rounded on the troll cousins.
His menacing tone prickled the hair at the nape of Gwen’s neck. “You ate all the food I specifically procured for Edie’s recovery?”
Normally, he’d realize he was being trolled—by, yes, trolls—before losing his shit. The vampire was still too frantic about his beloved’s health to recognize that, though.
Someone had to intervene.
“Kip.” Gwen rubbed her forehead tiredly. “Please tell Max that you and Lorrie didn’t eat everything.”
“You’re a spoilsport, Gwen-my-love,” Kip accused affectionately.
She simply raised her eyebrows at him.
“Fine. Be that way.” The troll turned to Max. “We didn’t eat everything. Most things, yes. Everything, no.”
“Eighty percent of your refrigerator’s contents, max.” Lorrie beamed. “Hey! ‘Max’! Nice!”
Max subsided, his fists uncurling, and Edie reached out a hand to tug him down onto the chaise. He perched on the edge beside her, grumpiness still creasing his far-too-handsome features. Even so, he lifted her hand to his mouth for a soft, loving kiss.
Hugh reentered the room, a food-filled rectangular glass storage dish clasped in his capable hands. Along the way to the settee, he offered both trolls a reproving headshake.
“They didn’t quite eat everything.” He handed the warm dish to Gwen along with a cloth napkin, a fork, and a bottle of sparkling mineral water. “This is parmesan polenta, according to the label on the lid. Topped with thyme-butter-sautéed chanterelles and roasted chicken.”
“Oh, dear heavens, that looks and smells incredible.” She beamed up at him in gratitude. “Thank you, Hugh.”
His shoulders subtly straightened. “It was no bother.”
She wanted it so, so much. Before she took her first bite, though, she caught her host’s eye and raised her brows in question. Because if Edie needed the meal—
“You’re fine. I can easily procure more food.” Max flipped over his hand in a graceful gesture, inviting her to eat. “Bon appétit, little oracle. Share with the demon if you must.”
When Gwen offered Hugh the container he’d just placed in her hands, he waved it off and settled beside her again. And this time, they were pressed so closely together that he had to sling his arm over the back of the settee, tantalizingly near her shoulders, to accommodate their new proximity.
She smiled down at her polenta, gentle warmth heating her cheeks, and began eating.
“We’ve wasted enough time.” Sabrina’s voice was sharp enough to carve Gwen’s roast chicken. “Let’s get to the point of this gathering.”
“Agreed.” Hugh’s own tone had turned authoritative. “We need to determine our next steps now, before the conspirators have a chance to regroup.”
“Do you think we managed to stop whatever they meant to do?” Gwen had been wondering that all morning. “I mean, I hope so, but I’m not certain.”
“They were clearly counting on physical and scent evidence to point toward demonic guilt, and all that evidence was either removed or contaminated beyond repair before the officials’ arrival.
” Max absently stroked a soothing hand along Edie’s hip over her mountain of blankets, and her eyelids drifted shut.
“Then, of course, there’s the video footage.
That was probably meant to be the coup de grace, but Blacke and I showed up and blunted the fatal blow. ”
Hugh inclined his head. “They couldn’t have expected either of us to become involved in the official investigation.
I may not be universally loved, but my judgment is respected.
Despite Boucher’s, uh”—he hesitated—“colorful reputation and long absence from SERC circles, so is his. Our insistence that demons couldn’t be blamed for the breach should hold sway. ”
“Especially since Blacke and I weren’t connected in any way before now. We aren’t known allies.” Max gave an extremely Gallic shrug. “If anything, we’re naturally antipathetic toward each other.”
Hugh’s nod that time was a touch too fervent for politeness.
“That gives our agreement in the matter more weight.” Max tilted his head to indicate his sleeping beloved and spoke more quietly. “Let’s keep our voices down, yes?”
Everyone nodded.
“What if…” Lorrie fished out the last truffle from a silk-ruffled box. “What if the conspirators publicly release the video of demons freeing all the zombies?”
“Boucher and I will find a way to”—Hugh crooked his fingers—“prove that the footage is doctored, and we’ll publicize that finding heavily.”
He didn’t sound happy about that, but he did sound determined.
“I have a few national media connections I could use, as necessary.” Max’s pretty-boy features hardened with matching resolve. “The culprits might still push the demon-blame angle, but it’s not the sort of slam dunk case that would prompt an interspecies war anymore.” He hesitated. “I hope.”
All that was good, but…
Gwen rested her fork in the glass container of polenta. “The conspirators might have other plans already in progress, ones we haven’t discovered yet. And if they don’t now, they will soon.”
“You’re right.” Hugh didn’t sound happy about his agreement. “They were willing to kill the entire Containment Zone population to achieve their goals. They won’t stop with one attempt.”
“What, precisely, is their endgame?” Sabrina shifted restlessly in her chair, polished fingertips drumming on the upholstered arms. “Figuring that out would help us predict and prevent the next horrible incident.”
“We could use SERC’s assistance in determining the conspirators’ overall goal.
” Max’s fatigue had carved brackets around his pressed-thin mouth.
“But without sufficient evidence, we’ll never get the councilors to act.
Unless they’ve changed significantly in my absence, no one will willingly move against the fae or our ostensible allies in the human government without incontrovertible proof of their guilt. ”
“Then getting that proof has to be our new priority.” Lorrie looked around interestedly. “Who, pray tell, is going to spearhead our evidence-gathering efforts?”
Gwen ticked off the requirements on her fingers, because they all knew where this was going. “We need someone with enough time to devote to the investigation. Someone with power and discretion. Someone trusted and respected by SERC councilors.”
Inevitably, they all turned to Hugh.
His frown’s intensity ratcheted up to eleven, but he didn’t reject the leadership role the group had just bestowed upon him.
“I’ll take the lead in our investigation.” He paused for emphasis. “On one condition.”
“Oh?” Max tucked a blanket more tightly around Edie. “Do tell, Blacke.”
“Gwen stays with me,” Hugh declared.