“Do you think they’re going to take their shirts off and start counting their abs to see who has more?”
Joan and I stand at the large island in her kitchen, sipping our tea and watching our big, muscled demon mates have some sort of Very Serious conversation in the living room. It’s got plenty of scowls, crossed arms, grunts of either agreement or dissatisfaction.
“Hopefully,” I whisper. “I’ve only seen Callum without his shirt once, and I could really use another look.”
Joan snorts a laugh loud enough to catch her mate Rhett’s attention. Startled, he turns to find the source of the sound and his face immediately melts into a soft, affectionate smile.
It makes me feel like I should look away, like I’m witnessing something not meant for my eyes.
Only, the second I do, I catch Callum’s gaze and find him looking back at me with a softness in his face not all that different from Rhett’s.
My heart does a strange little twist.
Goddess, he’s handsome.
Too handsome for his own good, and way too knowing as he gives me one last long look before he and Rhett continue their conversation.
“Anyway,” Joan says, setting her mug down and leaning her elbows on the counter. “Tell me more about all this Faerie stuff.”
I give her the abridged version. I leave out some of the finer points about how I’ve nearly gotten myself killed twice in the past couple of days, and end with my theory about the fae queen’s heart being a human wielder.
That much was evident from the letters, but other than the confirmation, they weren’t much help.
Lots of long, rambling declarations, plans for clandestine meetings, some truly terrible poetry, but not many concrete details.
But the way half of the letters were written, the words and phrases used, a few vague mentions of the human realm, all of it makes me confident we’re looking for a wielder.
“Know where I can find one of those?” I ask, and belatedly remember her history when she makes a face. “Shit. I’m sorry, Joan. I didn’t mean to bring up—”
“It’s alright. Just always a bit of a jump-scare to have to think about David.”
Her ex—a real piece of shit wielder who was responsible for Joan’s own near-death experience in the demon realm, and who’s currently languishing in a prison cell beneath the demon court—is a sore subject. One I should know better than to bring up.
But as long as I’ve already put my foot in my mouth…
“Did he ever say anything about where they like to congregate?”
“Other than at all those warehouse parties they used to invite us to?”
I snicker. “Other than that, yeah. I don’t think I’m looking for a twenty-two-year-old with keg-beer sticky shoes.”
She thinks for a few moments. “There are small wielder communities all over the place, but they aren’t as centralizedas the covens. The biggest hotspot for them in this part of the country is Boston, I think? David mentioned something about there being a few places in the city where they liked to hang out.”
A spark in the center of my chest, faint, but growing. A lead to follow, somewhere we might begin.
“That’s where Gavin’s originally from, too, isn’t it?”
Now it’s my turn to give her a look.
Joan knows exactly what she’s doing by bringing him up, and I don’t know how good Callum’s hearing is, but I cut him a quick glance to make sure he’s not listening in.
I don’t need a repeat of what happened in the car when I mentioned Gavin in passing.
Well… I probably don’t need a repeat.
I’ve never really been a girl to enjoy it when a guy gets jealous, but there was something endearing about the way Callum reacted to me even hinting at having a guy here in this realm. Like he didn’t know if he had the right to be jealous, or to say anything about it.
It was… cute.
