“Sorry about the scene?” I repeated in disbelief. “You attacked someone I was on a date with. You embarrassed me. You embarrassed Nana. And for what?”
Behind me, Barnaby made a sound like someone experiencing religious enlightenment. His fork scraped against ceramic.
Any other day, Brok would have likely said something. Now, he didn’t seem to notice at all. “Hazel, I know how it looked—”
“You don’t know anything.” I clenched my fists so hard my nails bit into my palms. “You showed up after weeks of silence and immediately decided violence was the answer. What’s unclear about that?”
Brok fidgeted, and I hated that I still found his awkwardness endearing. “There are things happening you don’t know about.”
“Then tell me,” I snapped at him. “I’m an adult. Use words. Explain what’s going on.”
“It’s complicated—”
“Uncomplicate it.”
Brok let out a deep sigh. To my right, Barnaby swallowed loudly. I almost wished he’d finish his cake already. Maybe if I could cut him another slice, I’d have a distraction from this entire disaster.
“There are situations,” Brok finally offered. “Complications that I can’t fully explain right now.”
What? Was he married? Did he belong to the mafia? It would explain the stakeout, though it didn’t fit his gym-bro aesthetic.
“Can’t or won’t?” I insisted.
He hesitated. Just for a second. But I saw it. “Both. And… You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
I couldn’t believe my ears. I didn’t want an excuse, not really. But to think that he couldn’t even be bothered to provide me with one? “Are you kidding me right—?”
A loud ding echoed through the store, cutting me off mid-sentence. The lights flickered and died. And I almost wanted to burst into tears.
When it rained, it poured. I’d completely forgotten to fix the wiring after the last time this had happened. One more thing to add to my FML list.
The lights turned on again so suddenly I had to shield my eyes. A voice rang out all around us, coming from everywhere and nowhere at once. “The challenge begins in three days. The title has no owner.”
Barnaby’s fork clattered against the plate. The sound was too loud in the sudden silence. “Brok!” he squeaked.
The temperature dropped so fast I gasped. I wrapped my arms around myself, but it didn’t help. Goosebumps raced up my bare arms. None of this was possible. The thermostat was set to seventy-two. It had been warm and comfortable when we’d walked in five minutes ago. Shops didn’t just lose twenty degrees in ten seconds.
“I know,” Brok said, and something about his voice struck me as different. It was heavier. Like it had… substance.
Like a woman in a dream, I blinked away the slight dizziness and looked at him again. And then I saw him.
His skin was green. The color of spring moss or new leaves. His jaw was broader than it had been a second ago. Tusks jutted from his bottom lip. Small but unmistakably sharp. White against all that green. His hands ended in black claws instead of fingernails.
My brain stuttered. I tried to make sense of what my eyes were seeing. Had I deemed the brawl at Nana’s party insane? Wow, I’d been an idiot.
Orc!a voice screeched at the back of my mind.That’s an orc! Like in Lord of the Rings! Straight out of Saruman’s armies.
Why was a supernatural creature in my damn kitchen? I had no idea, but it made as much sense as anything in my life right now.
Brok the Orc took a step toward me. The tiles groaned under his weight. Why hadn’t I realized he was far more massive than a regular bodybuilder? “Hazel—”
“No! Stay away!”
I didn’t think. The plate left my hand, launching the cake across the space between us almost too smoothly. Six feet of distance crossed in less than a second.
It hit him square between the eyes with a wet, satisfying splat.
Frosting exploded outward like a mud bomb. Dark carob smeared across his skin in thick streaks. It caught on his tusks, dripping down his chin in slow rivulets. A huge piece of cake slid down his chest. It left a wide carob trail on the fabric before hitting the floor with a soft thud.
