“No need. I’ll go to work with you.”
“We just went over this.” I strode out of the kitchen to my home office down the hall. The door was locked because there were valuable books, spell items, and other magical things I didn’t want to fall into the wrong hands. Or hooves.
I stepped into the comfortable, airy space, and followed the tug in my chest without focusing on it too much. I dragged my fingertips across the spines of the books, until I felt a tingle in my palm. I withdrew two identical books:Common and Uncommon Laws of Ordinary
“Huh,” I said.
“I thought virgins were annoying.”
“What?”
“What?” Xtelle paused just inside the room. “Are you listening to me?”
“You’re not going to work with me.” I tucked the training manuals for becoming a reserve officer into my bag. This wasn’t just the human law stuff, though that was covered too. This was mostly the dos and don’ts of upholding supernatural and deity laws.
“Well, isn’t it pretty?”
I glanced over. “No. No, no, no. Put it down.”
“This?” Every drawer of my desk was open and it was obvious she’d rummaged through all the contents. I had no idea how she’d done that so quickly.
She was sitting in my chair, one pearly little hoof pointed at the carved wooden box she’d placed in the center of the desk.
The box contained the only weapon I had against Bathin. A pair of golden scissors with an ebony blade and a ruby blade. A crossroads demon had given them to me. They weren’t enough to cut Delaney’s soul away from Bathin’s grasp—I’d need a certain page of a certain book to do that—but this was all I had to save her soul. A stick of dynamite without the fuse.
“That’s private,” I said.
“I’m a unicorn.”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“I thought we were just saying random things.”
“This isn’t yours.” I picked up the box.
“There you go again. So random.”
I slid the box onto the tallest shelf. “It contains things that are private and not for you to see. Promise me you’ll leave it alone.”
“Like I can reach it up there. Fine.” She hopped off the chair and started digging in the drawers again. “What a strange assortment of junk. There’s not even one disemboweling scoop.”
“What?”
She looked over at me and batted her extra-long lashes. “Ice cream scoop?”
“No, you said—” The doorbell rang. It was followed by a brisk knock. “Wait here.”
I strode to the front door and looked out the peephole.
Bathin had his hands in the front pockets of his slacks, his suit jacket unbuttoned, his crisp white shirt pulled back far enough to reveal the width of his chest and flat stomach. He stared straight at the peephole and smiled.
Back there on the sidewalk, in front of my house, a couple cats lingered. Strays again. Were they adopting him?
I opened the door. “What do you want?”
“Good morning to you, too, Myra. I’m here to collect on our deal.”
“What deal?”
