Chapter 11 #2
“I, uh…” Gwen bit her lip. “I actually met Haziq. Last night.”
“What? In Georgetown?” Farhanah’s golden-brown forehead crinkled. “How is that possible? The entry gate hasn’t been open for days.”
Gods and goddesses above, Gwen hoped all the lying would stop soon.
“It began working again, very briefly. I got lucky with my timing and happened to get out. I went to see…” Her head tipped toward Hugh, who watched her performance impassively.
“Haziq works at the councilor’s apartment building, which is where I met him.
He’s just as lovely as you always said, Farhanah. ”
The other woman’s skeptical frown transformed into a proud beam. “He’s an excellent young man. Smart. Hardworking. Extremely handsome too. You agree?”
“Definitely.” Now came the most delicate part of this discussion. “Listen, Farhanah. Could you possibly keep my visit with the councilor a secret? I don’t imagine you’ll be asked about it, but if you are, maybe you could claim not to know anything?”
Farhanah twisted to aim a fierce scowl at Hugh, her graceful fingers curling into claws.
“You’re ashamed to publicly acknowledge her?
What kind of no-good creature”—she spat out the words like dirt from her mouth—“would take advantage of a sweet girl like Gwen and refuse to claim her in the light of day?”
Gwen’s ears should have burst into flame. She cast an agonized glance toward Hugh, unsure whether to counter the other woman’s misconceptions.
His own cheekbones burnished a vivid pink, he raised a staying palm. “Ma’am, I believe you’ve misunderstood—”
“Haziq would never forsake you in such a cowardly fashion, Gwen.” Farhanah turned back to her neighbor, her dark eyes narrowed consideringly. “When we’re able to leave the Zone once more, perhaps you could join me and my nephew in a celebratory meal?”
Wow. Even Gwen’s supposed late-night frolics with demons hadn’t diverted the older woman’s matchmaking efforts. Which was very open-minded of Farhanah, but…
“I, uh…” Helplessly, Gwen looked to Hugh for assistance again. “Thank you for the invitation, but I don’t…think that’s a good idea?”
He mouthed something she couldn’t make out, his expression stony. She frowned at him, confused, and he repeated himself more slowly. Do you want Haziq?
Gwen’s tiny headshake and diverted attention apparently alerted Farhanah that an unspoken conversation was occurring.
“Why are you here, Councilor?” Rising to her feet, she swiveled to glower directly at the interloper in her midst. “It’s daylight now, and you have an emergency to belatedly address. Shouldn’t you be working?”
With long, unhurried strides, he rounded the couch and stopped beside Gwen.
Then, to her shock, he gently tugged her into his arms for the second time that morning, pressing her tight against him with one lazy hand stroking up and down her spine.
At the roaring heat of his slim, strong body, the tenderness of his touch, she sagged with pleasure, melting into his side.
“Indeed I should. But I wanted to personally escort my girlfriend”—his possessive emphasis on that phrase hitched Gwen’s breath—“back here to pack, since she’s living with me for the foreseeable future. Publicly.”
For once, he’d managed to lie without stumbling. Progress!
He pressed a light, sweet kiss to the crown of Gwen’s head before continuing to address a visibly mollified Farhanah.
“This is a fraught moment, politically. There may be media attention or other unfriendly eyes upon me and those in my orbit. We simply want to keep Gwen’s late-night visit to ourselves in hopes of protecting her privacy.
Not because I intend to keep her presence in my life a secret. ”
Gwen rushed to affirm his cover story. “I even met several of Hugh’s SERC councilor colleagues earlier today, Farhanah, including the chair—”
“Tanielle Beech?” The older woman tapped the upper tips of her ears. “The fae female?”
“Yes. She and the others were…not especially welcoming.” Gwen’s nose wrinkled in unhappy reminiscence. “Given what they already think of me, I’d rather not have them discover that I made a, um…booty call…to their colleague.”
Upon her use of the term booty call, a faint choking sound came from Hugh. She patted his chest apologetically, then nuzzled closer to his very soft sweater. His arms tightened around her in response, forming the world’s warmest, safest cage, and she sighed happily.
Farhanah exhaled slowly. “I’ve heard how the fae can be.
I don’t know if you remember this, Gwen, but my daughter works as a secretary for the county clerk’s office.
She’s had to deal with a particularly problematic fae male recently.
Very demanding and secretive, according to Rania.
She’s been complaining about his calls for months. ”
Hugh asked the question before Gwen could. “Why did he contact the county clerk’s office?”
“I shouldn’t tell you this, but…” Farhanah lowered her voice to a near whisper. “His company is buying up abandoned Zone properties. He mentioned something about building their new headquarters here because of our cheap land, despite the logistical challenges.”
Before this past week, the Zone had already contained plenty of derelict properties.
And since many of the current Zone residents had no doubt died tragically during the zombie breach, their homes would now become available for purchase too.
Probably at rock-bottom prices, at least until the authorities made certain all zombies were dead and tore down the area’s protective walls. Once those walls were gone, though…
Well, the Zone would become a huge swath of available real estate just outside DC, and whoever owned property there would make another, more figurative, killing.
Had the fae splinter group loosed zombies on the Zone residents in a horrifying yet relatively straightforward quest for inexpensive real estate, then?
But if that were the case, why did Gwen keep having visions of open, wide-scale warfare?
And why would the conspirators’ plans require a pact with a faction of the common human government?
“What else did the fae tell your daughter?” Hugh asked, as if idly curious.
Farhanah didn’t know much more, but she had a lot to say about it. While she spoke and Hugh nodded, Gwen allowed her thoughts to wander toward her latest problem-to-be.
As had just now occurred to her, her rent would undoubtedly skyrocket as soon as the Zone’s walls came down—and where she’d go then, she had absolutely no idea.
But, hey, if I die soon, I’ll never have to deal with that. Silver lining!
“Gwen, I almost forgot again.” Farhanah’s attention returned to her neighbor.
“My sister—Haziq’s mother—started renovating her kitchen last week, and she and her husband intend to install one of those built-in microwaves.
Which means they’ll be selling their old one even though it’s fully functional. ”
Gwen brightened. “I can’t get mine off the popcorn setting.”
“So I remembered,” Farhanah informed her with endearing self-satisfaction. “Would you like theirs?”
Gwen hesitated, her excitement waning. “How much do they want for it?”
“They’re willing to give it to you in exchange for prophetic sessions.” Farhanah’s lips pursed. “I tried to convince them one would be enough, but it’s a nice microwave.”
What would be a reasonable trade? “Would they accept three sessions?”
“It’s not that nice a microwave.” The other woman crinkled her nose. “Two will be plenty.”
Gwen resisted the urge to pump a fist. “Then yes, please, I’d love to have it!”
“Good.” Farhanah smiled, pleased. “I’ll have them drive it over once the Zone opens back up.”
“When they do, could they possibly bring a drill with them?” Gwen’s head tipped, indicating the apartment to her left. “Ashika needs to secure her new bookcase to the wall so her kids can’t tip it over and get smushed. It’ll only take a minute, I promise.”
Farhanah dismissed Gwen’s assurance with a graceful wave of her hand. “Shouldn’t be a problem.”
Another thought occurred to Gwen. “If your sister happens to be replacing her refrigerator too, can you please ask whether she’d be willing to give her old one to the family across the hall?
Theirs is on the fritz, and it’s urgent.
I’d be happy to offer as many sessions as your sister wants in payment. ”
Her neighbor’s sobs had drifted through the thin apartment walls a few nights ago, so Gwen had whipped up enough Swiss Miss to share, paid a visit, and found out what was happening.
She leaned in close and whispered to Farhanah, “Monica’s breast milk keeps spoiling. She can’t go to work if her baby has nothing to eat, and she can’t afford to miss another shift.”
Barry was working too, but without Monica’s income, they’d end up in a shelter again.
“I’ll ask,” Farhanah promised.
Before the two women could continue their conversation, Hugh tugged gently on the end of Gwen’s braid. “My apologies for interrupting, but you and I should leave shortly. Are you done packing…” He hesitated, eyeing her cautiously. “Um…babycakes?”
Her full-body cringe of absolute horror prompted him to try again.
“Sugar pie?” Upon viewing her expression, he hastily made another attempt. “Er…honey-bunny?”
If she didn’t accept one of his awful suggestions, they’d be here all day. Reluctantly, she nodded in permission.
“Oh, goodness.” Farhanah clasped her hands at her chest and smiled warmly at them, evidently won over by Hugh’s appalling choice of endearment. “Honey-bunny! That’s so cute!”
His amber gaze met Gwen’s, and a faint, wry smile tipped his lips. Sorry, he mouthed, and she only shrugged in response.
In all honesty, she’d forgive Hugh Blacke far worse than a terrible pet name. Sooner or later, he was probably going to figure that out.
Knowing her luck?
Probably sooner.