“Agent Little.”
Flustered, I step back, ushering him inside. “The kitchen’s this way, and you can leave your umbrella in the stand if you like.”
He does, because this is not so much a suggestion as a rule. Our umbrellas are weapons, after all. While they’re designed for Screamers, they can work on other things as well, including other field agents.
I throw a glance over my shoulder as we head down the hall. My own umbrella has perked up considerably. She tilts ever so slightly toward the newcomer, fluttering her ruffles the way a person might bat their eyelashes. Wait. Is she flirting?
“Stop,” I say under my breath. The command doesn’t do any good. Besides, Agent Darnelle’s umbrella is leaning closer, seemingly entranced by all that fluttering, so I give up and head into the kitchen.
At the moment, I have much bigger problems.
Bagels and cream cheese unpacked, coffee poured, Agent Darnelle tugs out his phone. He ponders the screen for what is designed to be several unnerving minutes. I use the time to inhale a couple of bagels and affect an air of un-remarkability.
At last, he glances at me. With care, he takes a precise bite of his bagel, chews thoughtfully, and then sips some coffee.
“This is quite good.” He sounds genuinely surprised.
“It’s the only thing I can make.” Or rather, it’s the only thing I can make—besides tea—that other people might want to consume.
He nods as if I haven’t spoken at all. Then he clears his throat, a polite cough, more for show than anything else.
“Well, Agent Little, I’m not sure I should inform you of this, but you are the last of your class to take the field agent examination.”
Of course I am.
“It’s highly unusual to wait so long.”
This I know.
“I’ve been busy,” I say, because he’s expecting some sort of reply. Honestly, I think he’s expecting tears or, at the very least, a trembling lower lip. I don’t have it in me to give him either of those things. All I want is to pass this examination and for him to be gone.
“Doing what?”
I blink, not understanding the question at first. Oh, does he really want to know what I’ve been doing these past five years? Like I haven’t been the acting field agent here? I refuse to tell him about earning my associate’s degree from King’s End Community College. My mother was beside herself with pride, and the graduation ceremony was the last social function she ever attended.
“Just”—I glance around, hoping to pluck inspiration from somewhere in the kitchen—“busy.”
“Indeed.”
That single word seals my fate—or could if I let it.
“I’d like to show you around King’s End,” I say, rallying. “Show you what it is I do.”
“What you do?”
Damn it. “My mother is retired, after all.”
“So I gathered. He consults the phone’s screen again. “That, too, is unusual, for an agent in charge to retire before a fully certified replacement is secured.”
“We’re an unusual family.”
This is not going well. When Agent Darnelle stands, tucks his phone away, and says, “I think I’ve heard everything I need to for now,” I’m certain of it.
But he turns to me, and while there is no smile on his face, there is a challenging light in his eyes.
“Let’s head on out, Agent Little. I’m looking forward to seeing more of King’s End.”
We are half a block from my house when I notice his shoes. He’s a determined walker, managing to swing the umbrella and adjust his cuffs all without breaking stride. Those shoes, though. They are black and leather—and possibly hand-tooled. If we were strolling through Nordstrom’s, they’d be perfect. For the trek out to the housing development?
