But I couldn’t explain any of that to a human who believed I was just Barnaby’s overly intense trainer brother. “The watching is necessary.” I jerked a thumb toward the car, toward the still-hiding Easter Bunny. “For his sake. His health. His future.”
Hazel followed my gesture and peered into the car. Her irritated scowl melted into confusion. “His sake? You mean… Barnaby’s?”
A cold feeling rushed down my spine. It was the same sensation I’d felt moments before ambushes back in the Steppe, that primal warning that something had gone terribly wrong.
I turned.
The passenger seat was empty. The half-eaten celery stick lay abandoned on the floor mat like a fallen battle flag. Barnaby was gone.
Unacceptable. It was one thing for him to try to sneak out of our training sessions in the Iron Grove when I was busy preparing the terrain. But to run off while I was sitting less than two feet away from him? I didn’t know he possessed that kind of sneakiness.
Fortunately, there was only one place where he could have possibly gone.
I spun back toward the shop, growling under my breath. Hazel must have had the same realization, because she turned at exactly the same moment. We looked at The Cocoa Bean together.
The door was swinging gently on its hinges, the little bell above it suspiciously silent. He must have muffled it somehow, the sneaky little schemer. Perhaps with his bucket hat.
“Oh, you have got to be kidding me,” Hazel murmured. “He went inside? While we were talking?”
“Clearly, I underestimated him,” I replied, miraculously managing to keep my voice level.
Hazel clenched her jaw but said nothing else. She just marched back toward her shop with renewed fury, her broom still gripped in one hand. I was right behind her, my longer stride easily keeping pace.
Together, we burst through the door of The Cocoa Bean. And there he was.
Barnaby sat cross-legged on a stainless steel prep table in the back kitchen area. He was holding a large piping bag of chocolate ganache to his mouth like it was a drinking horn. Before my horrified eyes, he squeezed the contents into his face, his expression one of pure bliss. This creature was the magical equivalent of a world leader, and yet, he was seemingly having a religious experience through chocolate.
The stuff covered his paws. It was smeared across his cheek. It was in his fur.
“Barnaby!” I roared so loudly the display cakes seemed to flinch. “What do you think you are doing?”
Barnaby shrieked, his eyes flying open in terror. He dropped the piping bag, and it hit the floor with a wet splat. “Brok! I-I can explain! The hunger! It called to me! It guided me! It laughed at your tiny car and your celery sticks! I had to listen!”
Fate was mocking me. It had taken the form of this wretched bunny and was thoroughly enjoying my suffering.
“Barnaby, get down from there right now.” I advanced toward him with deadly purpose. “I’ve heard enough excuses. We’re leaving immediately, and it’s HIIT for you all week. Maybe with enough jumping jacks, you’ll forget the taste of chocolate.”
If watching didn’t work, I’d just have to keep him locked in the grove until Easter arrived. Desperate times called for desperate measures.
“Brok, no!” Barnaby scrambled backward on the table, creating an even bigger mess. “It’s not fair! You’re a monster! A tyrant! A joyless slab of muscle with no appreciation for the good things in life! You can’t deny me my chocolate!”
“I can, and I will! Right this second! We are done with this foolishness!”
Before I could actually reach my target, Hazel stepped right in front of me. “Okay. Everybody just stop.”
I froze, my determination crumbling in the heat of her glare. “I thought it was funny before,” she said quietly. “The stakeout, the accusations, the ridiculous tiny car. But really, seeing this situation with fresh eyes…” She turned away from me, directing her attention to Barnaby. “Barnaby. Are you okay? And I mean really okay, not just ‘I’m fine’ okay.”
“I’m so tired, Hazel,” Barnaby offered, letting out a broken whimper that cut straight through my anger. “I’m exhausted. And so hungry all the time. The hunger never stops. It’s like a beast living inside me, and Brok keeps poking it with sticks and expecting it to behave.”
Just like that, the fight went out of me. I surveyed the wreckage. The miserable bunny on the table, the piping bag on the floor, ganache spreading across the tiles. Mystrict diet, the discipline, the constant watching. All of it had resulted in this. A complete breakdown in Hazel’s kitchen.
I was supposed to be the best. Personal trainer to the elite. And I couldn’t even keep one bunny away from chocolate for three hours.
Hazel leaned against the counter and pursed her full lips, thinking. I tried very hard not to stare at her mouth. I failed spectacularly. “This isn’t right, Brok. Even you can see it. There has to be another way.”
“And what way is that?” The question came out more defensive than I intended, but at this point I couldn’t help myself. “What do you suggest? Because I am open to new ideas if they produce results.”
“I have a proposition,” she said, pointing the broom at me like it were a sword. “You stop with the nonsense stakeouts that terrify my customers. You pay for the ganache that just became floor art.”
