“Scared? That’s ridiculous.”
“I’m not your sister.”
“I know that. Of course you aren’t.”
“No, I mean I’m not your responsibility. I get being the oldest sibling sets you up for life to automatically take charge and go into protect mode anytime a crisis looms on the horizon. Trust me, I have a younger brother and two sisters, I completely understand where you’re coming from. But Darcy’s web mage powers have deemed we need to team up to help stop this deity led apocalypse that will be the end of days for the Earth. Meaning, we need to be equal partners in everything. Which includes all the decision making and the facing off against any looming danger.”
Silence, except for the muted sounds of the driving wind, rain, and occasional thunderous boom filled the air for a minute or two. Nico’s dark eyes staring hard at Gigi in contemplation.
“I can’t guarantee your safety.”
“And I can’t guarantee yours. But you have skills and I have skills. Doesn’t it make more sense to explore how we can leverage off those as a team and plug any gaps we might have?”
“That does sounds sensible. However, those fluffy bunny slippers of yours aren’t exactly working in your favour.”
“Then how about the three dead bodies I currently have stacked in my freezer. Will they sway you?”
“I thought you said there were only two dead bodies in there?”
“Yeah, about that. It wasn’t the storm that woke me tonight, it was the golden skinned, golden haired idiot, wearing a green toga that matched his eyes, packing a syringe full of some decidedly toxic shit breaking into my store that got my attention first.”
“Golden? As in like glowing?”
“Yes.”
“Is he carrying a silver dove ring? You didn’t touch it, did you?”
“I haven’t had time to examine the body yet, I was too busy getting a stubborn idiot who doesn’t know any better to come inside before he gets hit by a piece of flying metal or is struck by lightning.”
“I’m not sensing any silver.” Nico glanced in the direction of the freezer. “Doesn’t mean he’s not carrying something cursed though.” Reluctantly he got to his feet. He was so tired, he really didn’t want to have to deal with this right now.
“Hold on. The body isn’t going anywhere. I think we should take a long hard look at him in the morning.” Gigi yawned. “Come on. I have an exceedingly small and incredibly uncomfortable pull out sofa bed up on the loft floor that has your name on it.”
***
Nico checked on the stewing apples, they were coming along nicely. Shifting his attention next to the pancakes, they were fine, his gaze lifting to drink in the view out the picture windowpast the open planned living area that took up the entire rear wall of this floor. The ocean glittering bright blue, matching the cloudless seemingly endless sky. Seagulls wheeling overhead on the thermals. Only three brightly coloured sailboats in evidence, taking advantage of the gorgeous early post-storm morning.
After several hours of deep sleep Nico could enjoy the view. The sofa bed had been as promised small, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. He’d awoken refreshed, and a little embarrassed, thinking back on the way he’d been acting over the last week and the pompous way he’d been speaking to Gigi.
She’d called it. At the first sign of danger he’d gone into hyper big brother mode. Problem solver. Decision maker. Protector. Guardian. Defender.
And he’d been further guilty of underestimating Gigi. He’d realised that as he examined the three dead bodies in her walk-in freezer after retrieving his clothes from the downstairs dryer.
He’d been blinded by the mega-watt cheerful smiles she gifted everyone. And the eager - ready to help -professional image she projected.
He'd made the stupid assumption that she’d never danced with danger just because she didn’t radiate menace or openly carry a weapon. She was no Enforcer. She made chocolates and cookies, and yet, somehow, someway, without leaving an obvious mark upon any of them, Gigi DeWitt had dispatched three presumably well trained sneak assassins single-handedly.
Other than a bit of spilled flour on one of the dead, he couldn’t work out, just by looking, how any of them had died. Puzzling, and more than a little intriguing.
This was the Southern Sanctuary, the majority of inhabitants had some form of magic. Just what was Gigi packing that she could kill without leaving a mark? And do it with a calm, cool attitude? When she’d called him in out of the storm last night, hewouldn’t have guessed she’d just moments earlier offed a dude and dragged his sorry ass into her freezer.
Which begged the question. Just what kind of magic was Gigi DeWitt packing?
Glancing down Nico noted the pancakes were ready. Excellent. Dividing them between two plates, following up with a dusting of cinnamon and icing sugar. Transferring the stewed apples to a bowl. Settling a pitcher of caramel sauce beside it. Oh, cutlery. He’d just retrieved knives and forks when he sensed Gigi’s approach. Yes, sensed, like the call of treasure. That little constant niggle tugging on his gut that seemed to be the price he had to pay to stay in her vicinity pulsing that little bit brighter momentarily for a split second, before resettling into that low level vaguely almost too comfortable hum.
Was she doing that somehow? On purpose? Or was it part and parcel of how she was able to mute the call of the dove ring?
“Morning. I have juice and coffee, how do you take it?”
