“Queen?” Jack squeaked. “You’re getting married?”
“Yes.”
“No…” she said at the same time.
At Oberon’s questioning look, Daffi sighed. “Maybe, after we’ve talked a lot about it…” She dug her elbow in his ribs when he grinned. “…a lot!”
“That was not a no,” he leaned toward her to murmur.
“It was also not a yes,” she hissed back at him. “Now, can we please focus on the matter at hand?”
Either that or she was going to end up jailed for throttling an infuriating hot as hell fairy… king. Crap, that would be regicide. Wouldn’t it? Or did it count if he wasn’t her king?
She focused on Jack. “You saw what happened?” she prompted gently.
“No, no, no.” He shook his head but then stopped. “Yes. Well… I saw someone running off. Then I found…” He jerked his head toward the entryway.
“Was worried it was you. But I never seen that witch before. The one that got killed.”
“Uh-huh,” she nodded as she made notes in a small book she pulled from her pocket and was forced to hide her smile. Look at her getting all detective-ish. “And you saw someone running away?”
His head bobbed like a nodding dog ornament. “A witch, in black.”
“Gee, that’s helpful,” Garlick muttered sarcastically. “That describes like… ninety-nine percent of witches.”
Daffi ignored him pointedly. “Which way did she run off? Did you get a look at her?”
“She ran off that way.” Jack waved down the road, almost slapping Oberon in the face with the fish that had reappeared in his hand. The fae king ducked just in time, his eyebrow raised. Daffi bit back her snigger. Being slapped in the kisser with a kipper was not something she’d had on her to-do list today.
“Didn’t get a good look at her, just her back,” Jack admitted. “She were about your height, Miss McGee, with long white hair.”
Daffi froze for a second and then smiled before snapping her notebook closed. “Excellent, thank you, Jack. Make sure to stick around just in case we need to ask you anything else. Okay?”
The little fae grinned, already eyeing up the copper on the other side of the street, fish in hand. “Right-o, Miss McGee. I hope you catches the witch what done it. Cheerio.”
“Cheerio, Jack.”
Daffi turned and walked off, ignoring the sound of dead fish meeting face and the startled cry that came after it.
“So,” Oberon rumbled as they left the alley. “What are you thinking?”
She sighed, shoving her notebook into her pocket.
“I think someone is trying their best to frame me.”
9
“Fucking greenie twat,” Oberon muttered as a hag cut right across their path, almost tripping them right on the steps of the museum. “Watch where you’re going! My bride nearly tripped.”
The hag didn’t slow, flipping the bird over his shoulder before he disappeared into the crowd on the street.
Daffi and Garlick pulled up point black and both swung eyeballs in his direction.
“You can’t say things like that,” Daffi said bluntly.
Oberon blinked. “Why not? He’s a twat. He cut us off.”
“Yes,” Garlick pointed out. “He’s an utter twat, but you can’t call him a greenie twat. We do not discriminate based on skin, fur or any other color. Or, come to think of it, sexual orientation or preferred gender identification.”
Oberon nodded and then lifted on his toes. “Oi! Twat! Watch where you’re fucking going!” he yelled and then looked at them.
Daffi nodded in approval, patting his chest. He learned quickly. That boded well for any future relationship. Then her eyes crossed as she realized… maiden’s tits, was she actually considering a relationship with him?
Shaking her head, she started up the steps and pushed through the rotating doors.
“Hey, Dave,” she greeted the Shifter on the ticket desk. “Three visitor passes please.”
Dave blinked, surprise showing on his face, and then a genuine smile creased his lips. “Hey, Daffi. Didn’t expect to see you back so soon. Heard about what happened with herself…” He jerked his head upward, toward where Whipsnide’s office was on the second floor. “Sorry you were let go.”
“Thanks, hun, means a lot.”
And she was surprised to find it did. When Whipsnide had thrown her out, she’d felt like that was it… her entire life revolved around the museum, and it had felt like they’d all turned their backs on her. So the welcoming smile from Dave meant the world.
Then Oberon growled and ruined it.
“Who are you?” he demanded, slamming his hand down on the counter. “And why are you smiling at my wife-to-be?”
“Hey, man, chill!” Dave backed up, hands up in surrender. “I’m Dave Eastaughffe. I work… worked with Daffi.”
Daffi sighed and put her hand on Oberon’s arm, holding her other out for the tickets. Dave reached forward just enough to put them in her hand before retreating a safe distance while eyeing the pissed-off fairy nervously.
“Meg said you had a new boyfriend… she didn’t say he was quite so—” He swallowed nervously, the last word emerging as a squeak. “Large.”
“I’m large all over,” Oberon growled, not breaking eye contact with Dave. “And don’t you forget it.”
“I’m not sure if he’s threatening him,” Garlick muttered from ankle level, “or coming onto him.”
“Neither,” Daffi said firmly, yanking at Oberon’s hand until he was forced to follow her. Good, the last thing she needed was a jealous boyfriend running around threatening any guy who so much as looked her way.
“Behave yourself,” she warned him in a furious undertone. “Or by the Crone, I will turn you into the authorities. Understand me?”
He looked contrite and nodded quickly. If she turned him in, he’d be held by the authorities and then taken back through to Fae. Since he was here illegally, the chances of him getting a visa to come back were minimal to “a snowball in hell’s chance,” even for a king of the fae.
“I’m sorry.” He looked so much like a kicked puppy she felt sorry for him. “I… was jealous,” he admitted. “You smiled at him. You don’t smile at me… and I’ve offered you
