Chapter Twenty-Two
“So, when the baby sprouted a fourth head, the drooling became an issue.”
“Hmm, yeah, I can see how it would,” Lamar mumbled in agreement as he stared out into the park where Aeren was sitting on a bench under a massive pine tree, sketchbook in hand. He paused with his Styrofoam coffee cup halfway to his mouth and twisted his head to look at Trask. “What?”
Trask laughed, whispering down to the baby snuggled against his chest. “I think we got Uncle Coop back!”
“Screw you,” Lamar huffed with a grin. “I was paying attention.” When Trask nodded toward the bench, he shrugged sheepishly. “Okay, I wasn’t. I admit I might have been a little distracted.”
Trask chortled. “Ya think?”
Lamar shook his head. “Seriously, though. I’m not sure what’s going on with me. It’s like he cast a spell on me.”
Trask shook his head. “No can do. Not in his skill set.” He nudged Lamar’s shoulder, careful not to disturb little Alex. “Besides, it happens. Shit, you saw how fast I fell for Christian.”
“That’s different,” Lamar scoffed. “You two have that whole Alpha and Omega fated mates crap to blame it on. I’m a human, and you already told me that Aeren doesn’t have that kind of skill.”
“Fated mates crap?” Trask parroted, holding back a laugh. “Christian will kick your ass if he hears you talk about the greatest love story ever told like that.”
“Oh, please,” Lamar scoffed. “Everyone knows that the greatest love story ever told was the one about the eighty-five Bears beating the Patriots in Superbowl Twenty.”
Trask chuckled. “That doesn’t even make sense.”
Lamar looked back to the pine tree and smiled when he realized Aeren was watching him. “What’s it going to take for him not to be freaked out by you?”
Trask shrugged. “Honestly? If anything works, it’ll be time and me not eating him. Maybe if he gets to meet Christian, that will help.”
Lamar sighed and drained his coffee cup. “Did you have a chance to check out that picture I sent you?”
“Yeah, but it didn’t tell me anything. There’s no way to tell who a shifter is unless you see them in their natural form.”
“How do you know what that form is?” Lamar questioned.
“For most types, a mirror works,” Trask mused. “You know how Genov doesn’t cast an image at all?” Lamar nodded. “Well, shifters cast their true image no matter what form they’re wearing.”
“Really?”
“Yeah,” Trask drained his coffee cup and set it next to Lamar’s. “All we have to do is find the killer and haul them in front of a mirror.”
“Any mirror?” Lamar pressed, his mind wandering back to the opulent décor of theAfter Nineparlor overflowing with marble and glass. “It doesn’t have to be charmed or anything?”
“As far as I remember,” Trask said slowly, turning the question over in his mind. “I don’t think just a reflection in glass or metal will do it, though. I think it has to be an actual mirror with a silvered back. Something to do with the eyes being the mirror to the soul.” Trask shrugged. “It’s another one of those times when the devil is in the details. I’ll pull my books out tonight once the baby is down. You think this might help?”
“I might have an idea.” Lamar grinned and stood, tossing the empty cups in the trash. “If you’re right, you may have just told me how to solve the whole damned case. You think Christian will let you come to the office tomorrow?”
“Probably,” Trask agreed with a yawn. “But not too early. He needs his sleep.”
“Got it.” Lamar clapped him on the shoulder and kissed the sleeping baby’s scaly forehead. “Keep your ringer on.”
Striding out to the pine tree, Lamar’s lips stretched into a smile when he saw that Aeren was absorbed in his sketch, his bottom lip caught in his teeth in the way that could mean he was scared or confused or, apparently, concentrating as his pencil flew over the paper, his eyes never leaving the blue jay perched on a rock a few meters away.
“Are you ready to go?” Aeren asked, his pencil still flying.
“Not just yet,” Lamar lied. “I thought I’d sit with you while you finished.” He lowered himself to the ground in front of the bench and leaned back against it, his head resting on the seat. “How did you know I was behind you?”
“I can sense you,” Aeren murmured, still intent on his project.
“You can?” Lamar asked, keeping his voice low. “How?”
Aeren’s pencil stilled and he turned to face Lamar, his eyes glowing. He smiled and shook his head. “I don’t know, really. It’s just a feeling that I get inside. Kind of a warmth, if that makes sense.”
“Sure, it does,” Lamar agreed, leaning over to kiss the closest body part, Aeren’s knee. “Wake me up when you’re done?”
“This can wait,” Aeren demurred. “It’s not important.”
“Of course, it is,” Lamar disagreed, leaning back and closing his eyes. “You’re important so by extension your art is important, baby. Just let me know when you’re done.”
