Orrin shrugged. “You surely have all that information in a file. Why bother asking me for it?”
“Because we might have missed something you purposely revealed,” I said.
Orrin’s scorn was back, this time accompanied by his eyebrows crawling up toward his hairline. “You think I would purposely give you aclue?”
“Maybe,” I said. “If you were doing everything against your will.”
Orrin laughed so hard he made the water in his cup slosh. “Against my will? You are unbelievably naïve for a vampire slayer. Do you really think I would do all that you lot have accused me of against my will?”
“Yes,” I said. “Because there’s a lot of power imbalance in the supernatural world.”
Orrin’s laughter cut off and his face twisted with disgust. “Oh, how awful. You’re one of those, are you—the hopeful humans who are so out of touch with reality that you are determined to see good where there is none?”
“I wouldn’t say I’m out of touch.” I tilted my head back and forth. “Because if you tried something, I’d beat you until you were concussed.”
His expression cleared. “Now that sounds more like a true slayer, I suppose.” He leaned back in his chair and looked away, all emotion in his eyes shuttering, so he was once again passive and unmoving.
I hesitated for a moment, then opened the door and slipped out.
The werewolf guard looked me over from head to toe, her nose twitching as she scented me out. “Any problems?”
“No,” I said. “But I didn’t learn anything, either.”
The werewolf shrugged before she relocked the door. “Don’t take it too hard—he’s an ornery one. At least he’s no trouble.”
“Thanks.” I hesitated, but the werewolf must have considered our conversation over because she snapped a nod at me, rolled her shoulders back, then took up her spot in front of the door again.
I slowly turned on my heels and made my way back to the Department of Supernatural Law Enforcement, waiting until I was behind our secured doors to take off my slayer mask and reclaim my weapons from my locker.
I don’t think I learned anything about Gisila or the case… but I get the feeling Orrin is bored.
If I was smarter, I would figure out a way to exploit that, but Orrin was right: I was better at physical stuff, and while my family trained to battle all types of supernaturals, we spent the least amount of time on fae as it was our family policy to not do business with them—no matter how well they paid.
I navigated my way through the department, heading to the meeting room my squad mustered in every night before we headed out for our patrols.
Thankfully, I’m part of a team, and someone is bound to understand more than me.
Sarge, a naiad which made him a fae, was my best bet. But if I screwed up enough courage, maybe I could ask Grove or Medium-Sized Robert for help.
I made it to our meeting room and slipped inside. Like everything in our department, it was modeled after human police procedurals shows in television and movies. The walls were made of floor to ceiling windows, thin blue and gold carpeting covered the floor, and a sea of tables and chairs that were usually occupied with similar supernatural species clumped together.
I glanced at my teammates expecting to see the same groups I always saw: wizards April and Juggernaut playing some kind of card game together, vampires Tetiana and Clarence off to the side at their own table, while werewolf Brody and cat shifter Binx deigned to sit together and exchange growls, and Grove—a fae—chatted happily with Medium-Sized Robert, our team’s resident heavy weight hitter and troll.
Today, however, April and Juggernaut were seated at a table playing a card game with Tetiana—who had started playing with them a week or two ago—and, this was the shocking part,Binx.
I slowly entered the room clutching my mask as I watched the game.
“Juggernaut, do you have any… old maids?” Binx asked.
“Binx,” Tetiana said. “You don’twantthe old maid, so you shouldn’t ask for her.”
“But I’d rather have a maid no matter what her age is than a card with a number on it,” Binx said. “Unless the numbers mean higher points?”
“No,” Juggernaut straightened out the fan his cards were spread out in. “You get one point for each pair of cards you have no matter the number on the card. And go fish.”
“Why are humans so illogical? Not all prey is equal in value, and we are supposed to be emulating fishing, aren’t we?” Binxreleased a hissed breath, eyed the deck of cards placed in the center of their group, and reluctantly selected the top card.
“Are you playing go fish?” I asked, naming the human card game I’d played with my siblings and cousins. (We either practiced our knife work or played card games whenever long travel times were involved in a case.)
