By the time I reached the little covered porch, he was knocking on the door.
There was the sound of footsteps, heavy footsteps, and then the door opened.
Bathin filled the doorway, and I do mean filled.
All demons could choose their appearance. It was part of what made deal-making work so well for them. They could appear just as ugly or attractive as the job required. Bathin had gone all-in on attractive. He was built like a stack of bricks, muscles on top of muscles, a rugged, but damn fine-looking face, sun-baked skin, dark wavy hair, and eyes that could set panties on fire.
My sister’s panties, not mine.
His shoulders were too wide for the narrow doorway. He tipped them down slightly and angled his body toward us.
“Can we come in?”
“No.” He tucked his phone into the front pocket of his short-sleeved, forest green button-down shirt. The color made his eyes pop, and the short sleeves showed off his huge forearms and the swell of his biceps.
“I’m fostering a couple cats, and they aren’t comfortable with people yet.”
“We aren’t reallypeople,” Crow said.
“Neither am I, Crow. What do you need, Delaney? Everything all right? It’s my mother isn’t it? She told you?”
“Told me what?”
Little kittenmeows called out from deeper in the house. He stepped out, letting the screen door close behind him.
“Sounds like a lot of cats,” Crow observed.
“It’s eight. It’s not a lot until you have over a dozen.”
Crow made a show of counting while pointing at the half dozen cats in the yard. “Sorry to break it to ya, buddy…”
“Mother received a message from the courts.”
“What court?” I asked.
“Hell. The kingdom she once ruled.”
“Okay, what was the message, and how was it delivered?”
“It was left on her doorstep.”
“Let me guess,” Crow said. “In a box. With nothing but a circle and a red feather stamped on it.”
It was a subtle shift. A hardening of Bathin’s stance, his muscles, and then it was gone, washed away like water over stone. In place of that sudden dangerousness, was an affable smile. As if he and Crow had been buddy-buddy for years.
“That’s right,” Bathin said. “In a box, just like you guessed, with a feather, just like you guessed. You want to tell me how you know that, Trickster god, when she hasn’t told anyone but me?”
“She doesn’t have a front door,” I said. “She’s a pony. She’s supposed to be in Hogan’s yard eating grass.”
“She took over the spare room.”
Of course she had. “It was left at his front door?”
He shook his head. One of the kittens decided to Mission Impossible the screen door, and made a jump for it. The kitten stuck on the screen like a furry dart that slowly inched downward.
“She was very specific about it being in front of her door, not Hogan’s front door,” Bathin said. “Hogan has assured me there are boundaries he was more than capable of enforcing. He mentioned his gnome army.”
I huffed a laugh. “Yeah, he sort of has an in with them. Do you know what the message was?”
