Quirion chuckled. “We won’t write that in the letter. She would be so appalled, she’d probably combust spontaneously. And to give credit where credit is due, through no accomplishment of her own, she is a truly stunning woman. Good genetics really are a blessing.”
“Great. Now my head is conjuring up images of a cross between Marilyn Monroe and Angelina Jolie.”
“Who were and are very fine women. As for Beverly, think more along the lines of Lillian Gish. If her favorite color were blood.”
The blankness in Milo’s eyes had Quirion sighing. “Lillian Gish was a famous silent movie actress. Look her up. She was also beautiful, in that eerie way of most women in movies at that time.”
“Understood. Beverly is some kind of super silent movie film star look-alike with a penchant for red. Doesn’t help my nerves about this whole letter.”
“You don’t have to be nervous. You’ve got me to formulate the letter and Sammy to write it. What could go wrong?”
“Not the question I want to hear when my career could be the collateral,” Milo murmured.
Quirion realized it might have been better not to jinx the whole thing. Not that he believed in superstition. No real scientist did. But after meeting Sammy, and through him the bunch of paranormals he called friends—a banshee was nobody’s friend, not ever, they were doom, but somehow, Amber did everything in her power to make Sammy smile, weird as it sounded; not to mention the old vampire, Emilia, who seemed to delight in bringing Sammy new food to taste, mostly from Japan instead of ripping his throat out and drinking all his blood and those were just two of them—Quirion had learned that probabilities seemed to veer into an undesirable direction whenever that particular question or a variation thereof was formulated.
“Your career is going great and will go even stronger,min Liechtbrunn.”
That Milo didn’t react to this endearment as usual—with an eyeroll and a petulant‘am not’—told Quirion how stressed he was about the whole thing. And as much as it galled him to admit it, he thought maybe he was going to need help here. Sammy’shelp, to be specific. He sighed and steeled himself for what he had to do next. “It might be prudent to ask Sammy’s advice in this. I realize I’m too close to the SBW and you are too innocent.”
Milo snorted. “Which is why you wantSammyin on this?”
“While my brother-in-law has a sometimes warped view of things, he’s also annoyingly quick on the uptake and could really help us out. Plus, we need him anyway to write the letter because giving you a quill and ink is tantamount to sacrilege.” Quirion wanted to bite his tongue as soon as the last word left his mouth. He had tried to spare Milo’s feelings earlier only to ruin it all in a moment of heedlessness.
Milo grumbled. “Yes, Qui, tell me how you really feel.” He held his dark expression for a moment longer then started to giggle. “You’re right, though. Just imagine me trying toholda quill, not to mention actually writing with it. Would I need to dip it into an old well of ink? I have no clue!” Milo was giggling harder and Quirion joined him. Another thing about the young man he loved was his willingness to admit his own shortcomings, few as there were, in Quirion’s opinion.
“Are you going to invite Sammy here?”
Quirion stopped laughing abruptly. “Don’t even joke about it. The less time he spends here, the better. I’m still not convinced he won’t be stealing Mildred from us! Last time he was here, he was eyeing her funnily.”
“I don’t think Mildred can be stolen. She’s way too big.”
“You know Sammy. He somehow learns how to speak toad and before we know it, our pet is gone.” Quirion wasn’t even exaggerating. Somebody who could distract a starved zombie with apple pie, of all things, then calmly run off to the butcher to buy some brain, was capable of everything.
“Then let’s go to him.” Milo emptied his own cup and started gathering the letter, the envelope, and his draft.
Quirion put one arm around Milo’s waist, opened space and time with the other and off they were.
Chapter Three
The back office of Sammy’s bookshop was as cluttered as always when they entered it through the rift Quirion had created. The ancient desk on which Quirion had found a crying Milo four years ago looked even closer to its final day than it had back then. That Sammy hadn’t switched it out for a newer model was no surprise to Milo. His employer was loyal to a fault, even to furniture. But why Dre hadn’t gotten rid of the health hazard was a mystery to him. Yes, Sammy’s mate had a very hard time saying no to Sammy no matter what, but his protective instincts should have kicked in and helped him find a way to send the desk on its last journey to the junkyard.
And there lay the problem, Milo realized. Even if Dre managed to convince Sammy to depart with this particular desk, his sweet mate would insist on accompanying it on its last journey—leading him directly to a vast amount of other, probably even more damaged furniture in dire need of rescuing. For the same reason, it wasn’t a good idea to let Sammy go to an animal shelter. The one time Dre had madethatmistake, it had taken about a dozen demons roughly a month to find new homes for all the animals there—fifty dogs, sixty-seven cats, a hundred rabbits, two parrots, and four donkeys. Luckily the demons had been more than happy to help but afterward, Sammy had been banned from going anywhere near an animal shelter.
Quirion had watched the drama unfold from the safety of his library, where Milo had had to keep him abreast of everything going on. And maybe, just maybe, Milo had dropped a hintwith Sammy that Quirion could use a furry companion or two. Of course Sammy had jumped on the idea and decided his brother-in-law could take on some cats or rabbits. Then it had been Quirion struggling to find good homes for these animals as well. As he had told Milo in all clarity, he had no intention of expanding his menagerie. In his opinion, a gigantic toad was more than fulfilling his quota.
Milo stepped around the desk toward the door, announcing their presence. “Sammy? Are you here?”
“Milo?” He heard rustling then Sammy came running down the narrow hallway toward him. Milo quickly stepped over the threshold before he was caught in a cuddle. “Milo! I didn’t know you wanted to come today! You should have told me. I could have saved you some muffins.”
Sammy was a bit smaller than Milo, which hadn’t stopped him from yanking Milo down into his hug. He smelled of books and coffee beans and everything sweet and right in the world. Milo still couldn’t believe his luck having gained the friendship of somebody so special.
Now Sammy lifted his head and spied Quirion, who was looming behind Milo. In the beginning, when they had just met, having the huge demon at his back had made Milo nervous. Now he felt twitchy when there wasn’t over three hundred pounds of demonic muscle mass somewhere in his vicinity.
“Quirion! How nice of you to drop by!” Sammy changed hugging partners, gently shoving Milo out of the way to reach the green demon. “Dre has just popped out to get me something to eat. He should be back soon, and he will besohappy to see you.”
Milo doubted that. The relationship between Quirion and his two younger brothers wasn’t bad per se—they rarely fought openly. It was more like a wire under constant strain. They knew how to be civilized with each other and, since Sammy, they had apparently started to get even better with their interactionsbecause nobody wanted the human to run to Alerion when he thought the family wasn’t getting along, but Quirion maintained a distance to Dre and Barion that Milo couldn’t see between the two younger brothers. It only drove home the fact that he himself was much too young to even think about becoming Quirion’sanything. The huge demon saw Milo as a protégé, perhaps another little brother, nothing more.
“I’m happy to see you as well, Sammy.” Quirion patted Sammy’s back. “Milo and I are here because we need your help.”
