“What are you holding?” Gilbert asks, eyes going to the M9 in my hand.
“It’s a gun.”
“Gun,” he repeats, saying the word like it’s the first time he’s heard it. “What does it do?”
“Right. You wouldn’t know. It shoots bullets and can kill people.”
“That thing can kill?” he asks incredulously. “It’s so small.”
History has never been my strong suit, but I know the Templars lived their days battling it out with swords, daggers, and bows and arrows. I flick the safety on.
“Don’t underestimate it.”
My phone rings, and theWonder Womantheme song echoes from the living room. All four gargoyles react as if there were a monster lurking.
“Calm down. It’s just my phone,” I say. “A phone is harmless.”
I stride into the living room for some privacy and pull my phone out of my pocket. There’s only one reason I’d get a call at this hour. I’ve never declined a call from work before. My finger hovers over the red icon on my screen. At the last second, I answer.
“Bisset,” I say into the phone.
“I hope I didn’t wake you,” the officer responds. “But we’ve got another body. The ME isn’t here yet, but I think it’s safe to say the cause of death is from loss of blood. And bone.”
“Shit. How many bones this time?”
“All ten fingers and one femur. Body was still warm when it was called in. A couple of storm chasers found it in the bushes.”
“Text me the address. I’m on my way.” I end the call and wait for the address to come through.
“Is everything all right?” Jacques asks, walking into the living room. I wish he’d stop looking at me like he knew me. It’s unnerving, but mostly because I have a weird feeling like I know him too.
Like I know all of the men.
“Actually, no. Things aren’t all right. There was a murder and I need to go investigate.”
“Dressed like that?”
I look down at the stupid dress. “Shit.” I don’t wear dresses. Or skirts. In fact, the only dress I own is a knee-length black wrap, which I purchased solely for funerals. Fortunately, I’ve only worn it a handful of times. “I guess.”
My phone buzzes with a text, and I get directions to the crime scene. It’s only four miles from here.
“You’re leaving?” Thomas’s wings catch on the arched doorframe leading into the living room. He pulls them in closer to his body, making me even more curious. I want to touch them, ask them to spread their wings and let me get a good look. But I can’t. I won’t. Because I’m still not entirely sure this is actually happening.
“Yes. I’ll, uh, I’ll be back. So don’t go plunder a village and eat the local children, okay?”
Jacques’s eyes narrow. “Why would we do that?”
Thomas holds up his hands, wiggling his claws and motioning to his fangs. “She thinks we’re monsters.”
“I’m stereotyping, I know.” I give him a guilty look. “Sorry.”
“What is stereotyping?” Jacques asks.
“You have got to be kidding me,” I mumble. “Look, I have to go.”
“You’ll be back.” Jacques’s dark eyes pierce into mine. He grabs my hand, causing goosebumps to break out along my flesh. “I have your word?”
I swallow my pounding heart. “Yes.”
