George spoke the words tumbling around in Piers’ head. “Doesn’t that violate the treaty?”
“Not at all. I convinced him he needed to visit his mother. He went on his own. I just sped the process. I’d imagine she’s getting an earful about his brothers at this very moment.”
“Think you can get us to the wareho— ahhhh!” Piers fell, face first in a puddle. The next thing he knew, he stood beside George, water slogging off his face and down his body underneath his jacket. George’s enormous fingers were still wrapped around his biceps.
“Oopsie,” Chynne said with a self-satisfied grin.
“Hey! Aren’t you supposed to be helping me?” Piers snapped.
“You wanted to be at the warehouse. Here we are.” Chynne flourished a paw.
Piers whirled, coming face-to-door with a dilapidated building he’d have destroyed long before now. One good sneeze ought to do the trick. “What now?”
“There are three hellhounds in there,” George said, scratching his bald head.
Chynne paused his personal grooming. “One for each of us, if not for the treaty.”
“Wonderful, I wanted two.” George brightened, lacing his fingers backward until the knuckles cracked. “Two are always more fun than one.”
Piers made a mental note never to ask about George’s love life. “Chynne,” he whispered. “Can we trust George?”
“Can I trust you, a sorcerer with more power than brains?” One of Chynne’s eyebrows lifted. “After all, Finnegan the Foolish exploded an entire kingdom while trying to clean the privy with his untested magic.”
“What kingdom?” Did Piers really want to know?
“Exactly. What kingdom?” Chynne gave Piers a pointed glare.
“What? Oh, I get it.”
“Yes, ladies and gentlemen, he can be taught.” Chynne asked again, “So can I trust you?”
“Point taken.”
“I hate hellhounds,” George interjected.
Chynne waved a hand toward George. “There you go. Don’t you humans have a saying about the enemy of an enemy being your friend?”
Not reassuring, or an answer. Piers raised his voice to include the ogre. “Anybody got a plan?”
George slammed a fist against a loading bay door, grabbing Piers out of the way just in time. The entire building’s face crumbled to the ground in a shower of dust and bricks. “Door’s open,” George said. “We might as well go in.”
A dust-colored cat hacked dirt. “How about a little warning next time?”
“Oh, sorry.” George showed not the slightest bit of remorse. “Got the light handy?”
Piers handed over the flashlight. The ogre took the lead, shining the beam into the building.
“There is an easier way, you know,” Chynne said.
“How? Some kind of glowy ball thingy conjured by magic?”
Chynne filled his words with drama. “No, something even more amazing.”
“What?”
“It’s called a light switch.”
“Won’t the light let them know we’re here?”
