“You can’t call the police – don’t you think they are going to have some questions about the guy with flesh for a face? Questions we magical creatures would get into a lot of trouble for if we answered?”
Aside from Max, I’d had precious little to do with other magical races. No, you couldn’t count Dimitri from this morning.
Shit, Max!
I suddenly paled. To him, it would have seemed that I’d disappeared for eight hours.
Though the witch still had a hold of my hand, I tugged my phone up and tapped the on-button.
There was missed call after missed call, all from Max.
God, he was going to kill me.
“Oh, god, I need to make a phone call,” I stuttered, taking a step back and breaking her grip.
“Not the police,” she reminded, tone direct. It was clear that in her eyes, I was a broken, emotional mess.
“No, not the police,” I agreed, “to my fairy bodyguard.”
She frowned. “You have a fairy bodyguard?” She looked me up and down, almost as if she were reassessing me. “You come from old money or something? Just which coven do you belong to, anyway?”
She was asking question after question, and I couldn’t answer a damn one.
Wincing, I tapped Max’s contact, drew the phone up to my ear, closed my eyes, and clapped a hand over my face.
It didn’t even have to ring once.
He answered. “Where the hell have you been?”
“Um, a car yard,” I said, voice shaking.
“Wait there,” he snapped. He hung up. He didn’t ask where I was, and maybe he didn’t have to. Maybe Max had some kind of magical connection to me. That, or he’d shoved a tracker in my bag when I hadn’t been looking.
As soon as he hung up, my attention returned to the fact that there was a faceless attacker still in the garage. I gulped as I tilted my head towards it.
Obviously, Bridgette realized what I was thinking, because she shrugged her shoulders, crossing her arms and doing a fantastic job of looking just as defensive as Max. “There’s no way I’m gonna let him get away. Not after what he’s done to our other sisters.”
She kept saying sisters, obviously thinking we were both ordinary witches.
Fortunately, Max didn’t give us the opportunity for small talk. I heard a roaring bike, and a second later, it skidded to a stop right outside the dealership.
Max jumped off the bike, and so did Sarah Anne.
As soon as Sarah clapped eyes on Bridgette, she jolted forward, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Oh god, Bridgette, you’re okay. Thank heavens you’re okay.”
“Heaven didn’t have anything to do with it.” Bridgette snorted as she crossed her arms. Then she leveled her gaze at me. She nodded, the move obviously full of deference. “I had a hand. Who are you, anyway?”
I brought a hand up, latched it over the back of my head, and shrugged into it.
I didn’t get the chance to answer. Max turned his deadly attention on me. “Who cares? Where have you been?”
I could kid myself into thinking that was just anger flaring in Max’s gaze and twisting his tone. But it was more. He’d genuinely been worried for me, hadn’t he?
When I didn’t answer immediately, he cleared his throat, sounding like a raging bull. “Chi?”
I gulped. “I found a doorway. I got bored, I wandered off. The doorway opened out into some courtyard, and a gust of wind took the photo. By the time I exited into the courtyard, eight hours had passed. Eight hours! I don’t even know how that happened.” I spoke so quickly, I could barely understand myself.
Max didn’t reply. He frowned as he held my gaze.
“You mean you exited through a timed door?” Bridgette asked, shooting me the kind of frown that told me I was kind of an idiot for not knowing what one of those was.
“I guess.”
“It doesn’t matter. All that matters is she found Bridgette in time. Thank you so much. I’ll never be able to thank you enough,” Sarah said, gushing.
Yes, this woman was super pretty, yes, Max obviously had feelings for her, but no, I couldn’t bring myself to hate her. She was just so genuine.
She thrust forward, picked up my hand, and shook it passionately.
Me? I just stood there and desperately tried to figure out what had just happened. Back in the city, my days had consisted of the occasional Internet fortune and nights at the Italian bistro down the road.
Now, apparently, I would be dicing with death every other day.
I put a hand up, trying to swipe my sweaty fringe out of my eyes. I felt like death. And hey, I probably looked worse.
Sarah drew Bridgette away, and they began mumbling in low tones as they turned and walked towards the garage.
Instantly, my hackles rose. I’d already noted that I wasn’t exactly brilliant when it came to morality. But I did have a sense of morality, even if it was a little warped. And right now that warped sense of morality didn’t like the witches’ expressions, not one little bit.
It wasn’t as if I had any love lost for the faceless creep who’d attacked me, but that didn’t mean I could condone murder. Yet before I could push off, run after them, and figure out on the way how to stop two seriously pissed off witches, Max reached out, grabbed my arm, and held me in place. “They’re just going to question him,” he said in his always memorable brogue.
That didn’t exactly put me at ease. In fact, I grimaced as I turned to face him. “Question him? You saw their expressions – I really don’t think they’re out to have a pleasant conversation.”
“Just leave it,” Max snapped.
Don’t get me wrong, I was touched by his concern.
