I recognized Sarge and his team—consisting of Juggernaut and Binx—driving the lead car, while Brody drove the second with his team—Tetiana and Grove.
Medium-Sized Robert effortlessly grabbed the fae noble I’d shot as he struggled to his feet and tried to flee, holding him so high in the air his feet dangled.
Orrin meandered up to Considine and me. “Can we go now?”
“No,” I said. “We’re part of transport. Considine or I will have to go get our car and fill it up to take the fae back to the Cloisters for processing.”
“What she means to say is we will both be going to get the car,” Considine said.
I stared at him.
“Backupisimportant to you, isn’t it?” Considine asked.
Disgruntled, I turned back to Orrin.
The fae fiddled with his belt. “Understood. Can I have tea when we get back?”
Puzzled I glanced at him. “Of course?”
Orrin nodded, satisfied, but I wasn’t.
“You don’t need to ask—you’re allowed to use the break room whenever you like,” I said.
Orrin tilted his head. “Hm?”
I don’t get it, why is he surprised?
“Gisila didn’t let you take breaks, did she?” Considine guessed.
“…I wasn’t…free to have tea whenever I wished,” Orrin slowly explained, likely struggling to find a way around his geas.
Instinctively, I looked at Considine, and wasn’t surprised to find his eyes on me.
Just how ruthless is Gisila?
“Team Fire, Team Blood,” Sarge called as he slammed his car door shut and strode across the road. “Report in.”
I straightened up. “Yes, sir!”
My oven buzzer went off.Armed with an oven mitt and a stainless-steel spatula, I stood in front of it, watching with the same intensity I gave opponents in a fight.
Behind me, Considine sipped on a glass of blood. “If you leave them in there much longer, they could burn.”
“I’m afraid to look,” I said.
“Why? You followed the directions.”
I peered back over my shoulder to frown at Considine. “Ialwaysfollow the directions.”
“Yeah, but this time it’s not a recipe from your insane family.” Considine picked up the empty package of chocolatechips I’d used and waggled it at me. “It’s the recipe on the back of the package. Those are foolproof. I haven’t ever made food with packaged ingredients, and even I know that.”
I wasn’t precisely sure how he came to be in my apartment. I knew I’d let him in through the front door in between debating whether I should use semisweet or milk chocolate chips for the cookies. But I didn’t know how he’d figured out now was the time to show up—in my moment of weakness—when I would unthinkingly let him in.
I looked back at the oven and proceeded to strangle my oven mitt.
Considine slowly leaned in, giving me plenty of time to back away from him. Gently, he pressed his lips to my right temple. “Be brave.”
He ghosted away before I could say anything in response, lingering by the fridge.
