Carissa leaned over. "Muses are the dregs of our society. They're considered sub-par, I suppose you'd say. Sort of the way humans view fictional vampires. We dislike that they exist at all."
Bran nodded. "There's been times that the muses were hunted. They're pretty rare now, but I did put down a law that forbids them to be hunted just for living. He's probably holding your creativity until he gets hungry. Once he eats it, your ability to use your creativity will return to you."
"This one will die," Rey growled. "I will kill him myself."
"You'll do no such thing," Bran said. "He was only feeding. You're just mad because it was your girlfriend who got mused."
Aww, I loved being called Rey's girlfriend. It seemed to mollify him slightly, too, because he took a deep breath. "We—"
"I knew it!" Roma yelled triumphantly. "I knew I'd heard that name before." She turned her laptop around for us to be able to see. "He's listed in our vendor's database as our plumber. Still a bastard, Franklin," she continued under her breath. "He had a muse coming in here, sucking our creativity. He was playing both sides, I think. Why would he do that? Us being not creative would cost him money.”
“Perhaps the muse paid him more?” Bran asked.
"They don’t just eat creativity," Rissa said. "Muses can suck out intelligence, the ability to synthesize, teamwork, the ability to think outside the box. Whatever special talent a brain can conjure up. Leadership abilities... it's never-ending. Maybe he used this muse against competitors as well."
Now it was Roma's turn to look furious. "Well, guess what else is here?" She grinned and to be honest, it looked a little evil. "An address."
14
CATHY
Half an hour later,Rey and I arrived at the address, barely believing we'd found the muse. Well, it was more like Roma had found him, but here we were.
The dude was living high on the hog. His apartment building was swanky, and the doorman gave us a suspicious look as we walked in. We made our way to the third floor, and Rey pounded on the door.
"Open up!" he yelled.
The door opened, and there he was. "Paul," I said flatly.
"Cathy." He sounded amused and rather pleased to see me. "How nice to have you here." He looked over at my shoulder at Reynard. "And who is your red-faced friend?"
Rey moved around me and into Paul's face. "I'm the guy who's gonna make sure you never, ever do this again," he growled. "Messing with my girlfriend was a mistake."
Paul's expression shifted into something far more sinister, and a chill crept down my spine.
"Not so fast, young man," he said, his voice dropping low. "You cannot hunt a muse. It is against the law set by our king. If you try, I will call him."
Rey stepped back, and his shoulders rose slightly. I put my hands on his back in an attempt to keep him grounded. "He's the one who sent us," Rey said between his teeth. "If it weren't for Bran, I would've taken your head off the moment you opened the door."
Paul grinned, and I could tell he enjoyed the display of bravado. "I suppose you would have," he said, then his expression softened. "But I'm glad you didn't. You see, I'm not here to cause trouble. I'm here to help." He spread his hands out. "Please, come in. Let us discuss this like gentlemen." Paul nodded at me. "And of course, the lady."
"Ugh." I rolled my eyes and pushed past him. "Stop being so smarmy and give me my creativity back."
"Certainly," Paul said. He sighed, closed his eyes, and then let out a long, slow breath.
Reynard took the opportunity to get the drop on Paul while his eyes were closed. He moved around behind the muse and raised his eyebrows at me. "Do you have it back?"
I shrugged, searching inside myself. "I don't think so."
"Stop playing games," Reynard said. "Give her back her creativity."
"I did," Paul said through clenched teeth. "I can't give her anything she didn't have before." He snarl-smiled with his eyes closed. "Maybe she wasn't very creative, to begin with.” Rude.
"Fine." Reynard nodded and tightened his grip on Paul's shoulder. Before I could even move to help, Reynard had flipped Paul around and secured his arms in a set of handcuffs I hadn't even known he was carrying.
Paul's eyes widened and he stuttered. "What—what are you doing?"
"The king said I couldn't kill you." Reynard arched an eyebrow at me. "But you can't be left to suck creativity out of the world. Or anything else for that matter."
