“That’s more than we knew a couple hours ago,” I said. “Maybe this isn’t as bad as we thought.”
“You are unreal,” Myra said. “Things aren’t as bad. Demons put a hit out on you and hired thugs to steal you.”
“But we stopped them,” I argued. “That’s the point. I’m fine. The demons had terrible taste in hitmen.”
“I want more intel,” Jean said. “I want to know what the demons are planning.”
“Let’s ask our friendly neighborhood demons,” I said around a yawn. “See if they can give us some insight. Tell us what strategies Vychoro or his underlings might use next.”
I yawned again, and Ryder’s hand came down on my hip.
“We’ll do that in the morning,” he said. “Whatever they’re planning, I doubt they’re going to launch into it before assessing their failure.”
“No, we can do this now,” I said. “Myra, ask Bathin to meet us at my place. Jean, tell Xtelle and Avnas to join us.”
Both my sisters said, “No,” at the same time.
“Bed,” Myra said.
“You were attacked dude,” Jean said. “Get some rest. We can do demon stuff in the morning, okay?”
I wanted to say no, but Ryder’s hand was heavy on my hip and he squeezed gently, signaling he was on their side, which meant I was totally outnumbered.
“Fine,” I said. The painkiller was keeping most of the aches out of my head and back, but getting some sleep suddenly sounded like heaven.
Kelby strode through the door and paused in the lobby. “Looks like the gang’s all here,” she said. “I heard about the attack. You okay, Chief?”
“I’m good, yeah,” I said. “Headed home. Call if you need anything. You sure you’re up for the night shift?”
“It’s more interesting than staying home trying to find something new to stream. Here, I can at least beat Shoe at arm wrestling again.”
“You’re doing paperwork,” Shoe grumped, without looking away from his hunting and pecking. “And I don’t lose.”
“Right,” Kelby said, dragging out the word and shaking her head.
“Keep an eye on the holding cell,” I said. “They’re human, but there are demons involved in this somehow. No one is allowed to spring them except their lawyers.”
“Got it, Chief.”
Ryder was already walking toward the door, guiding me along with him, dragon-pig at my feet.
Out at his truck my sisters each hugged me, made dragon-pig promise to keep me safe, which Ryder complained about because what was he, chopped liver?
I told Frigg I didn’t need supervision while I slept, I would be safe, we would be safe, and to just go the heck home.
They all—finally—listened and went their way while we went ours.
“Did you get dinner?” I asked Ryder, as he drove through darkness softened by a layer of fog that had drifted in with the night.
“I’m fine,” he said, the words short and tight and very much not fine.
“Jump Offs is still open. Why don’t we go there? Get a burger to go or something?”
“There’s food at the house.” Grumpy. He was grumpy.
“Frozen burritos,” I said.
“We have eggs and ham.”
