Or a hammer. Or a Mr. Coffee and a hammer. I might need to show the new machine what happens when you hold out on me.
“You got the update from Reece? Good.” He breezed past me. “You did good work last night, kid.”
“Thanks.” I tossed back the first cup and let it burn all the way down. “Do you think we could—?”
“Ain’t happening.” He jabbed me on the forehead, right between the eyes, in the same spot his buddy had touched. “You think Natisha is scary?” He jabbed me harder. “She ain’t got nothing on Ruel.”
Ruel.
“About this money thing,” I began while I filed away the name in case I needed to invoke it later.
“Not this again.”
“I want half of it put into a trust for the next potentate,” I blurted. “I want to pay it forward.”
Bishop measured me for the span of a few seconds, and then he smiled. “Of course you do.”
Halve my debt to Linus and put my future replacement in a position to focus solely on their sworn duty? Talk about your win/win situations. “You’ll help?”
“It’s your money.” He shrugged. “Do with it what you like.”
Remy would probably murder me in my sleep for this, but it felt right. The next person to take office might have fewer resources and less powerful friends than I did. I had grown to love Atlanta in my time here, and I wanted her left in capable hands when it was time for me to pass the baton.
A text chime brought Bishop’s attention to his phone, and a feral grin spread across his face.
“We’ve got a lead on an ex-coven member.” He snapped his fingers. “Let’s go.”
Taking a second cup with me, I went to get dressed for the night in the clothes Lisbeth had bought me.
By the time I had yanked the tags off my new outfit and emerged wearing it, Midas was gone.
“His mom called.” Bishop didn’t snicker, but it was a near thing. “He had to go.”
Mouth thinned while I sipped my third coffee, I asked, “What do we know about this ex-coven member?”
“They got tagged for selling Martian Roach spermatophores as aphrodisiacs.”
The mention of sperm paired with aphrodisiac sent my brain to a bad place. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“For the record, it’s a capsule full of roach sperm.” His expression soured. “Do you think I would do the research to find out what that is, let alone imagine someone desperate enough to try it, for a laugh?”
“Your face says no, but I think deep down the answer is probably yes.”
Ambrose swirled around Bishop’s ankles, eager to get out on the streets, which made me suspicious.
“That never gets less creepy.” He shuddered. “He’s worse than the spermatophores.”
“Ambrose isn’t worse than roach sperm.”
“You named it Ambrose, and that’s what makes it worse. Names have power. You shouldn’t have done that.”
Ambrose came with the name, whether it had been his originally or one he adopted later, I couldn’t say. I hadn’t realized Bishop didn’t know that choice nugget of intel. Maybe he wasn’t as all-knowing about my situation as I thought.
“I know, I know.” I kicked at Ambrose, not that he felt it. “He just had that Ambrose look about him.”
“Midas hasn’t seen him?”
“Midas can’t see him, or he would have brought it up by now.” I thought about it. “No pack member has mentioned it, not even Abbott, so I’m guessing no one can.”
It happened like that sometimes, even among the supernatural set. Creatures who could practice magic, like necromancers or witches, could often see beyond the veil if they had enough power. Creatures whose magic was sewn into their bones, like wargs or Atlanta’s gwyllgi hybrids, were more grounded. They might sense a presence or catch a glimpse from the corner of their eye, but they couldn’t see things like Ambrose unless he manifested. And to do that, I would have to be feeding him a lot more than I ever planned on.
“That’s going to make for an awkward conversation,” he said on the ride down to the lobby.
“You have no idea.”
Ambrose was our third wheel, but Midas had no clue our every move was catalogued by the creep. He was always around, always snooping, always interrupting our private time. I definitely needed a stronger barrier between us now that things were escalating between Midas and me in the romance department.
No one stopped us on our way out, but I got looks from several pack members. Mostly curious. None hostile. I called that a win.
“Ares was looking for you earlier.” Hank held the door for us. “She’s back at the den now.”
News of my relocation must not have made the rounds yet then. Too bad it wouldn’t stay that way.
“Thanks.” I called for a Swyft, and Bishop stared at me. “What?”
“You and Ares are friendly, right?” He held the door for me. “What’s with the tone?”
“I overheard the tail end of a conversation not meant for my ears, and I’m not sure where we stand.”
“Ah.” He gave the driver an address. “You’re coming up in the world, and there will be people you pass along the way.”
The situation wasn’t that black-and-white, but then nothing was, really. “I get that, but it still sucks.”
When the driver stopped at our destination a few minutes later, I pulled out of my head enough to gawp. “This guy is operating out of a church?”
“He’s the janitor.” Bishop led the way out of the car and up the stairs. “He should be on shift.”
A sour taste coated the back of my throat as I wondered if I was about to collect heart number two. The analytical part of my brain that warned he was no longer coven and therefore might not count was no
