‘You look like something,’ he muttered and walked out.
That was a slight step up from monster-fucker, though not by much. This wasn’t the best start to a day I’d ever had. Surely it could only be up from here.
Chapter Ten
I paraded on with the rest of the officers, listening to the debriefing before heading to my office. Channing hovered in the hallway and gave Loki a quick wave. He’d given up stealth mode on the flight to my office, but I wasn’t sure whether he’d done so because he wanted Channing to see him or because he was tired.
‘You’ve got a visitor,’ my partner explained. ‘Mrs Marlow.’
I nodded. ‘Thanks Channing.’ I turned to Loki. ‘Keep out of sight and keep quiet.’
Channing blinked as Loki flickered out of view.
‘Huh,’ he said. ‘Now that could come in handy.’
I thought of the protestor outside covered in bird crap and smiled.
I knocked once on my door. Ada Marlow was seated across from my desk with her son taking the other chair. Ada Marlow had the translucent hair of an air elemental, and it hung loose around her shoulders. Her eyes were clear and unburdened by grief. There was some sorrow there, I thought, but not the raw grief of loss you often saw in a spouse.
The boy, too old to be called a toddler, had sandy hair and his mother’s share of grief swimming in those big blue eyes.
Channing stood awkwardly while I bowed to Mrs Marlow, a hand to my heart. I didn’t say it was my honour to meet her, because the circumstances were far from ideal. She silently parroted my gesture, and I walked around the desk and sat in my chair.
I looked at Frankie Marlow, age four, with red eyes and trembling lips, and concluded he didn’t need to hear a single word of our discussion.
‘Channing,’ I said lightly, ‘why don’t you take Frankie to the cafeteria for a snack? They do a great toasted teacake,’ I said conspiratorially to the boy.
His lips tipped up. ‘I like those.’
‘Great. Channing will get you one.’
‘You’re going to talk about Daddy?’
‘We are,’ I admitted.
The boy fixed me with sad eyes. ‘Daddy’s gone now.’
‘I’m sorry. Yes, he is.’
‘Forever.’
I nodded.
‘He’s dead.’
‘He is. I’m sorry.’
‘Mummy said he won’t come back again.’
My heart gave a pang. Young as he was, he didn’t fully understand the import of the words he was saying. His mum had clearly told him those phrases, and though he was parroting them, he was too young to truly understand what death was. ‘No, he won’t,’ I said gently.
His slim shoulders slumped, and he pushed himself off the chair to follow Channing out. The moment he walked out, a strong breeze whipped around the office, and Ada Marlow’s hair rose as if she were touching a van de Graaff generator.
I cleared my throat. ‘Mrs Marlow, if you would.’ I gestured to the air swirling around me, sending the papers on my desk spinning into the air.
She flushed. ‘I’m sorry. My emotions are high. My control is usually impeccable.’ She took a steadying breath, and the cool breeze stopped, dropping the papers onto my desk in a fluttered messy pile.
‘These are less than ideal circumstances,’ I said kindly.
