The Hour of Dust and Ashes

I shrugged, “Well, that’s just it. They’re not going to kill me, Rex. Look, in a couple days, we’ll know. We’ll have our answers.”

The sylphs were our only option. I’d accept their “gifts” and then somehow they’d work their magic. We’d know if Bryn was in danger and which ash victims to protect. And if Titus Mott hurried his genius ass up and found a cure for ash, the danger for all of them would be over. Then I could concentrate on tearing down Grigori Tennin and the Sons of Dawn for good.

Hank pushed his bowl away and leaned back in the chair. “Good soup, Rex.”

I snagged a chunk of chicken with my spoon, about to agree, when Rex turned abruptly in his chair and faced Hank. “So,” he began in a stilted tone, “Charlie and I stopped by your place last night. You weren’t there. Where were you?”

I froze, feeling like every ounce of blood had drained from my face as I stared wide-eyed at Rex. Just shoot me now. I sank deeper into the chair, wishing I could just keep going. I forced down my bite.

Emma burst through the back door. “Mom, where did you put the tea tree oil?”

I blinked, unable to wrap my mind around her question. Rex threw a casual glance over his shoulder. “It’s in the junk drawer.” And then his eyes were back on Hank, brow lifted high and waiting.

Em rooted around the last drawer beneath the kitchen counter. “I want to try it on Brim’s elbow …” She found the oil and shut the drawer and went back to the door, waving behind her. “Carry on, old people.”

Silence greeted us after she left.

Hank was still leaning back in the chair, looking completely at ease. “I was out.” He cocked his head at Rex and then folded his arms over his chest.

“It’s no big deal. I just wanted to check on you,” I said, glaring at Rex as I gathered the empty bowls. “It’s none of our business.”

I was hoping Hank would elaborate anyway, but he remained quiet as I set the bowls on the kitchen counter and then opened the dishwasher.

“I was out,” Hank finally answered. “Shopping.”

I turned. “Shopping?”

Em came in at that moment to put the oil back. “There, maybe that’ll grow some hair on that elbow.”

Hank rocked back in the chair, looking particularly amused. One corner of his mouth turned up. “Christmas presents.”

I frowned, not expecting that answer, while Emma went instantly on alert, her expression like that of a prairie dog that had just popped up out of its hole.

“If you hadn’t noticed,” he continued, “I missed Christmas.” Hank dug in his pocket and tossed Emma the car keys. “They’re in the trunk.”

“Figures.” Rex rolled his eyes and got up. “I’m hitting the john,” he muttered.

Em squealed and darted out of the kitchen with the keys. I winced as the screen door banged against the frame.

I just stood there, back against the counter, hands still wet. Ever since we began working together, Hank had gotten Emma a Christmas present. Usually something way too expensive. I gave myself a mental shake and rubbed my hands on my cotton drawstring pants. Right. The usual. For a second there, I’d thought he’d meant me and that would just be … weird. I mean, we’d never exchanged gifts before …

I turned to wash out the bowls. My mark flared. I stiffened, not needing the mark to feel Hank’s presence behind me, swamping me. His hands fell on other side of the counter, trapping me. Immediately, my pulse skipped and my senses went into hyperdrive.

He leaned down, taking advantage of my momentary lapse. My mouth went dry. I tried to swallow. Warm breath breezed faintly against my neck, the short ends of my hair doing a soft wave toward my chin.

His lips were too close to my ear, his voice husky and low with an edge of humor. “I got you something, too.”

And then he was gone, back to the table and leaving me more disoriented than I’d been before. The ceramic bowl in my hand shattered. I jumped. “Damn it!” Great. Perfect. Thoroughly embarrassed now, I went to work cleaning up the shards from the sink with a paper towel while trying to calm myself with slow, regulated breaths, wishing like hell the heat would drain from my face.

I ran the water to clear the sink of the tinier fragments, wiped my hands on a dish towel this time, and then turned to throw the paper towel in the trash. Hank was back in his chair, leaning back so that the two front legs were off the floor and looking pretty pleased with himself.

“Since when do we get each other gifts?” I asked, sounding more composed than I felt. “I didn’t get you anything.”

He sat forward. “It’s just a gift, Charlie. Every year I shop for Em, I see something that makes me think of you. This year things are different …”

There’d been no gifts before because we were friends. Because I was married and happy. Because there were never any romantic feelings between us. Not like that. At least on my part there hadn’t been. While I had no choice but to acknowledge and grow accustomed to my partner’s extraordinary allure, I’d never crossed the bridge of developing those kinds of feelings for him.

Had he?

My thoughts must’ve been pretty transparent. “I wasn’t longing after you while you were married, Charlie. It wasn’t something I even allowed myself to think. I was too new to this world, too new to my freedom and all the things I wanted to experience …”

Wait … freedom? “What—”

Emma stormed back into the house with a giant bag smelling like the bakery in Underground. Sweet, warm dough. God, I loved that smell. She set the bag on the table and pulled out a large wrapped box, rolling it around in her hands. “This one is for me.” She set it aside and then dug out a plain brown box, the size of a boot box. “There’s no name on this one. Is this mine, too?”

“That one’s for your mom,” Hank answered.

Em turned to me, her smile goofy and her expression silly. She sang the words, “You got a present.”

I took it with an eye roll at her teasing. My pulse thrummed; I hadn’t gotten a gift from a guy in a long time.

I set the box on the table and opened the lid. Gasped and then shut it again, my gaze flying to Hank’s. He was grinning broadly now, his eyes a brilliant topaz blue. I was a hard person to buy for, I didn’t collect anything, didn’t talk about things I wanted to buy …

“Mom! What is it?”

“It’s a dozen Aeva buns,” I said in awe and then laughed. “Oh my God.”

“There’s a subscription notice in there, too. Every month, you’ll get a dozen delivered to your doorstep for a year.”

I clutched the box to my chest, though not too tightly—didn’t want to damage those heavenly concoctions. “You got me a Buns for a Year subscription? Are you kidding me?”

I was smiling like an idiot, smiling because this was just like Hank. And he hadn’t gone and done something like get me jewelry or a scarf or perfume or a useless trinket I’d never use. He bought me something I raved about on pretty much a daily basis, something no one had ever gotten before even though every year I casually threw out the mention to those around me.

Maybe I’d never gotten it because everyone else thought it was a goofy idea. But I always thought if you were gonna give a gift, it should be something the person wanted, really, really wanted. And boy, did Hank hit this one out of the park.

“Mother,” Em said in a serious tone, “I hope you know you will be sharing those.”

My eyes narrowed. “I might give you one … if your room is clean, you do the dishes, empty the trash …”

“Mom!” She reached for the box.

I held it aloft, laughing. “Okay, okay. You can have one.” I set the box on the table and opened the lid, selecting a fluffy white creation with reverence.

Made by the Elysian imps who were known in all three worlds for their skills in the baked goods department,