Next to Daffi, Oberon stiffened. Daffi put a hand on his arm to keep him quiet. Or at the least ensure he didn’t go off like some kind of blue-winged grenade at the insult sideloaded into Whipsnide’s comment.
“Ad hominem argument, ma’am,” Garlick chided. “Attacking the person when you can’t find fault with their statement or argument…” he tsked. “I really thought you were more intelligent than that.”
Daffi kept her smile sweeter than the cakes already under the glass dome on the sideboard for Whipsnide’s afternoon tea later.
“Besides, you never know… perhaps I’ll turn out to be a better detective than a witch.”
“I highly doubt that.” Whipsnide sniffed, her expression belligerent.
Garlick jumped from the windowsill onto the desk, his tail swishing in irritation. On the other side of the desk, her lizard familiar opened one eye and then closed it, going right back to sleep.
“May I remind you,” the cat said, his tone precise. “That you are legally required to cooperate with an MPI investigation under section fourteen fifty-seven of the city’s provision for Magical Law Enforcement. Any prevarication or… attitude could be considered hostile or obstruction, which carries a fifteen-day mandatory sentence in Bedlam.”
Whipsnide blanched. Bedlam wasn’t a place anyone wanted to end up—not a norm and definitely not a witch. It had a bad reputation as a norm mental hospital, but the site also housed an underground magical prison. An insane asylum above had been excellent cover for any weird and wonderful noises that might escape.
Quickly, the older witch opened her diary and muttered a quick copy, scroll spell to note down all her movements that day. Lips pursed like she was sucking a lemon, she thrust the scrap of parchment out toward Daffi.
“Here. If you need anything else, you’ll have to make an appointment. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a museum to run.”
Daffi reached out to pluck the parchment from Whipsnide’s bony fingers. Quickly, she folded it away in her notebook. Nodding toward the cakes under their dome on the sideboard, she smiled. “Enjoy your afternoon tea,” she commented as the three of them left The Office.
“She’s lying,” Oberon rumbled, surprising her. Given he was fresh out of the fae courts where things were very different—it had been one of her favorite subjects at school—she wasn’t sure how much of their investigation he actually understood. A lot more than she’d previously thought, if the considering look on his face was anything to go by.
“She is?” Daffi blinked in surprise. “I mean… I suspected she was, but what makes you say that?”
His grin was swift and a little sly. “I’m a fairy, my love. We’re born tricksters. And it takes one to know one.”
Her response was derailed as he stepped closer, reaching out to wind a strand of her rapidly lightening pink hair around his finger. He used it to tug her closer.
“But I’d never lie to you or trick you,” he murmured, his voice low and intimate. “I admit, I’d like nothing more than to enchant you into saying yes and returning with me as my queen but I will not.”
“Why?” she breathed, aiming a kick at Garlick as he made barfing noises. Couldn’t the goddess-damn cat see they were having a moment here?
Oberon smiled, still fussing with her hair. The professional yet approachable tousled updo she’d gone for this morning was completely ruined.
“If I did that, I would only have the shadow of you,” he said in a deep voice, which did things to her lower body that should be illegal. “A perfectly obedient version of you with no independent thought. You would only exist to please me. You would do anything and everything I wanted, and only that.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Sounds like most men’s perfect fantasy.”
“I don’t want that.” Oberon slid his hand into her hair. “I want you. I want the light of intelligence in your eyes, your quick wit and the way you challenge me even though I am king.”
Before she could answer, he leaned down and stole a kiss. This time she let him, her hands curling in the front of his t-shirt. He growled and deepened the kiss, the embrace turning torrid in a heartbeat. The world ceased to exist, and she was just starting to think about finding the nearest horizontal—or vertical—surface when Garlick put a claw in the back of her calf.
“Before you two attempt to get arrested for public witch-on-fae lewdness, you might be interested to know that Dave’s about to make a run for it.”
That broke the spell, and she pulled from the hunky fairy’s kiss in time to see that her familiar was right. Dave was headed for the front doors, slinging his backpack over his shoulder. Instinct told her that if he left, they’d never see him again.
“We can’t let him get away,” she hissed, breaking from Oberon’s embrace and rushing to the edge of the balcony. Throwing out a hand, she muttered a quick spell.
“Maiden’s sight and mother’s might,
Stop this Shifter from taking flight,
Bring him around and about again,
So we might ask who, what, why and when!”
Oberon whooped and raced down the stairs ahead of her. By the time she reached the lobby, he had the Shifter by the scruff of the neck. From the yips and snarls emanating from the smaller man, she was forced to reassess her suspicions about his canine side. Making noises like that, he had to be something small and yappy like some kind of ankle-biter. She suppressed a shudder. She was so not a dog person.
“Going somewhere, Dave?” she asked pointedly, her eyebrow raised. The fact that he’d tried to run was telling. Really telling.
He knew it as well, sweating like a kleptomaniac in a mall filled with security officers. His gaze darted between the three of them. Well, it darted between Daffi, Garlick and the bit of Oberon’s massive bicep that he could see.
“Just out for lunch… early lunch,” he added when Daffi looked up at the clock. “Man’s gotta eat, you know.”
“Oh, indeed,” she agreed and then looked at Oberon. He tightened his arm and Dave squeaked.
“What are you running from?” she demanded, rising on her tiptoes to shove her face in his and glare at him. “Or does my fiancé here have to take you outside and have a chat with you?”
“No! No!” he said quickly and then sagged in Oberon’s hold. “Okay, okay… I’ll tell you!”
Oberon looked at her and she nodded. When he let the Shifter go, she pulled them to the back of the gift shop area, behind a display rack of books entitled Love Potions throughout the Ages by Harrietta Locksglove.
“Okay,” she said, turning to face Dave. “Talk. What didn’t you want Sergeant Abberline knowing?”
He blinked. “Who says I have anything I don’t want the watch knowing? I didn’t say anything about not wanting the watch to know about it.”
She bit back her sigh. Dave seriously proved the dumb blond stereotype at times. She’d found him looking for the “any” key on the ticket booth PC the other day.
“It’s not what you said, Dave,” she clued him in. “But what you did. The sergeant interviewed you and within five minutes you’re making a break for it. Which means you told him some porkies. Didn’t you, Dave? And you’re worried about him coming back… Or,” her voice turned stern. “You don’t want me to know something and you decided to run before I could talk to you. But it couldn’t be that. Could it, Dave? Because we’re friends and you’re a good boy. Aren’t you, Dave?”