Bishop entered HQ on Midas’s heels, tugged a toolbox off a shelf, then retreated to the closet.
“I’m heading back to the Faraday,” he announced, not meeting our eyes. “See you in an hour.”
“Bishop,” I shouted to be certain he heard me. “Make no apologies.”
“Survive,” he rasped, and then he was gone, swallowed by shadows that seemed darker somehow.
After Bishop left, Midas clenched and released his fists. He might have been working his joints to warm them, but I got the feeling he was fighting the urge to snatch me and run.
“Welcome to HQ.” I pleaded with my gaze for him to put a pin in this, and he took the hint. “I’m Hadley, Assistant Potentate of Atlanta, and I’ll be your official guide to the Office of the Potentate.”
Whoa.
Flashbacks to leading ghost tours deep into the Savannah night lit up my memory.
Ah, the good old days.
Back when no one was trying to murder me.
“These are the guys.” I led him into the control room then made a sweeping gesture. “Say hi, guys.”
Reece ignored my shenanigans, as usual, but Anca dutifully chimed, “Hi, guys.”
Too bad Milo was still in the field. He would have sold the joke. He and Anca played well off each other.
“You two don’t seem surprised to see Midas.” I frowned. “I expected more get off my lawn threats.”
“Bishop put it to a vote months ago,” Reece said, head bent over his keyboard. “The motion to grant Midas access in the event of an emergency passed unanimously.”
“If this isn’t an emergency,” Anca agreed, “then I shudder to think what would qualify.”
“Besides,” Reece added, “once he leaves, it’s not like he can find his way back.”
The dry tone of his zinger left me wondering if Reece had just cracked a joke.
I laughed to be on the safe side, which Midas neither understood nor appreciated, so I ducked my head.
“This is Reece.” I pointed to his screen, and then I indicated hers. “This is Anca.”
“It’s nice to meet you both.” Midas gave a subtle nod. “I appreciate the work you do protecting Hadley.”
Elbowing him in the ribs, I corrected him. “He means the city.”
“No,” Anca said, laughing. “He means exactly what he said.”
“Statistically,” Reece confirmed, “he cares for his pack above everything else. You’re his mate, and therefore pack. Instances where he’s prioritized the city only happen in conjunction with cases you work together or when you ask him outright to render aid.”
Huh.
As much as Midas worried his cultural mores kept me off balance, always tilting toward his own beliefs, I had similar concerns. I assumed he was fighting for the same reasons as me, and he was, but on a smaller scale. I never once stopped to ask myself if he would have interceded on Atlanta’s behalf without me to haul him stumbling into danger for the greater good.
Phrased like that, yeah. Probably not. Being the pack prince and all.
“I wrapped the background check you requested,” Reece muttered, already distracted, “on Lily Valley.”
About to ask who, or maybe what, I flashed to the only such request I had made in days.
“That’s her name?” I pictured Remy’s friend and decided it fit. “As in Lily of the Valley?”
“Fae often adopt names that reflect their powers or aspects of their appearance,” Anca said. “Though it is interesting that she chose that plant to represent her.”
“She turns into a lily.” It seemed obvious, which meant it wasn’t. “What am I missing?”
“Lily of the Valley isn’t a true lily.” She hummed. “Actually, I believe it’s part of the asparagus family.”
Mmm.
Asparagus.
Cooked with bacon, it was delicious, and cooking Lily was the next best thing to cannibalism.
Get with the program, stomach. I’ll feed you…eventually.
Its pathetic rumble of doubt guilted me for having no immediate plans to hold up my end of the deal.
“Maybe she doesn’t know?” Just like I hadn’t known. “Or maybe she’s punny?” I had to respect anyone able to laugh at themselves. “What’s the dirt on her?”
I waited, and waited, and waited.
Not a single huff, snicker, or chuckle.
Sheesh.
Tough crowd.
“There is no dirt. There’s no soil in which to dig.” Reece flung a copy of her Faraday application on one of the lower screens. “Her previous addresses, the ones that are legit, belong to abandoned buildings. The rest are in vague proximity to fast food restaurants.”
“Remy did say she met her on the streets,” I told him, but I heard the doubt in my voice.
“That would explain her previous living situation, but she’s got no references. No family, friends, or jobs. Aside from Remy.”
“Could she be here illegally?” I chewed on my bottom lip. “That would explain why she’s grifting.”
“Two-thirds of the fae population of Atlanta are here illegally.”
And that right there explained why the Society hadn’t had kittens over the number of fae in the city. The Society tended to ignore all factions outside of their own. When they did get curious, rather than looking around them, they relied on official reports. They believed all they did was right, good, and proper and that everyone respected paperwork as much as they did, but no. Most of us had better things to do, thanks.
“They’re fleeing persecution,” Anca murmured. “But it’s not only the innocent who book passage between realms. There are predators as well, wolves in sheep’s clothing. They follow their food source.”
Up to this point, I had tried to avoid fae entanglements whenever possible. Granted, it hadn’t been possible to avoid much given the witchborn fae coven’s determination to own this city or die trying to claim her. But I had to do better.
I couldn’t say I did my job if I didn’t also protect the fae living here. Without the Earthen Conclave’s sanction, they had no one. They existed in a gray area that would get them killed without aid.
I hadn’t been appointed only to police the earthborn species. The entire city, and all her citizens, fell within my purview. I had to banish the fear of having my knuckles rapped for interfering with fae business and develop a strategy, with or without help from the Earthen Conclave.
Their job was to govern fae this side of Faerie, and they were falling down on the job. I wasn’t holding my breath for a miracle—I learned a long time ago you were more likely to suffocate—but my friends had taught me I could make my own luck.
I had a plan, and it was a doozy.
It ought to insulate me from the worst of any fallout that might come from asking for their assistance, but I wasn’t ready to pitch the idea yet. I had a few more pieces to fit into place locally before I presented my case to a foreign ruling body.
Flashing crimson smudges on his palms, Midas asked, “Do you have somewhere I can wash my hands?”
The stain was blood. I didn’t require a gwyllgi nose to figure out that much. It was just as apparent he had no intention of telling me who it belonged to or how it got there. But I could guess, and I tried to stay out of his dustups with Bishop.