“So,” I asked once the black Mercedes had disappeared into traffic, “who’re these people we need to talk to?”
Rans eyed me up and down with his boring, not-blue gaze before replying. “Let’s worry about them after we worry about getting you rested and sobered up.”
I pouted a little, before realizing that getting me rested and sobered up would presumably involve a bed. “Yes! Beds are brilliant!” I told him. “I love beds.”
“O-kay, then,” he said, still watching me like he wasn’t quite sure what I’d do or say next. I could sympathize with that. I wasn’t quite sure either.
I grinned and let him flag down a taxi, which he paid for with cash. For some reason, I’d sort of assumed we’d be going to a hotel. Instead, the cab wended its way through airport traffic until we got on a highway, heading into an area that looked residential. Eventually, we ended up in a nice suburban neighborhood, and the taxi driver dropped us off in front of an attractively landscaped split-level home.
“Another friend of yours?” I asked, wondering just how many people Rans actually knew in Chicago.
He snorted. “Not hardly. I have no idea who lives here—in fact, I chose the address at random from Google Maps. Come on. Follow my lead.”
I shrugged and followed him to the door. He rang the doorbell, which was answered within moments by a pleasant-looking middle-aged woman. She eyed our suitcases with thinly veiled curiosity, a small furrow appearing between her neatly plucked eyebrows.
“May I help you?” she asked.
Beside me, Rans’ gaze burned with inner light through the muddy brown of the Fae glamour. “Invite us in.”
She gave us a vague smile. “Come in, please.”
We stepped into the foyer. The door closed behind us.
“Tell me who lives here with you.” Rans’ voice was compelling.
“Just my husband Tom,” she replied, still smiling. “He’s downstairs.”
“Very good,” said Rans. “Are there any pressing reasons why you and he couldn’t leave for the weekend?”
She appeared to give it a moment’s consideration. “No.”
“Call him up here for me.”
“Tom!” the woman yelled. “Come here for a minute!”
I winced a bit at the volume. Footsteps pounded up the stairs, and a florid-faced man appeared.
“What’s going on, Glynda?” he demanded, giving us a suspicious look before Rans’ eyes caught and held him.
“Hullo, Tom,” Rans said. “Do you concur with your wife that this would be a good time for a weekend getaway?”
Tom’s eyes lit up with interest. “Yes. This would be a good time for a weekend getaway, Glynda. We should go to the lake house.”
Glynda nodded. “What a good idea! Let’s go to the lake house.”
“Got enough money to cover the trip?” Rans asked, addressing both of them.
“Oh, yes,” Glynda said. “Our investments did especially well last quarter.”
“I’m pleased to hear it,” Rans told her. “We’re your house sitters. You’re going to pack and leave in the next thirty minutes, so we’ll just wait here while you do.”
“Thank you for agreeing to house sit for us on such short notice,” Glynda enthused. “It really means a lot to us.”
Rans smiled as Tom put an arm around his wife’s shoulders and squeezed, nodding in dazed agreement.
“It’s our pleasure,” Rans assured them. “Oh, and you’ll want to leave us the keys to the second car when you go.”
“Of course!” Glynda chirped. “It’s in the garage. I just filled up the tank last Tuesday.”
With that, the couple bustled off, presumably to pack. Rans and I showed ourselves to the upstairs living room to wait. I stared at the ugly print pattern of the sofa and chairs, which seemed to waver back and forth in a disturbing moiré pattern before my drunken eyes.
I must’ve zoned out for a bit, because it seemed like less than half an hour had passed when Glynda called a cheery goodbye, the door opening and closing as she and her husband left, suitcases in hand. I narrowed my eyes at Rans, who lounged carelessly in the far corner of the sofa, one ankle propped on the opposite knee.
“That,” I said slowly, “was creepy as hell.”
TWO
RANS SHRUGGED ONE shoulder, unconcerned. “Being creepy is in the vampire contract, somewhere below the part about good dental hygiene and needing SPF ten million before spending a day at the beach.”
I digested that for a few moments.
“Why am I still drunk?” I asked. “In fact, why am I drunk at all? Did Tinkerbell really roofie me? Because if so, I feel like you should have beat him up for me before we left.”
His air of casual relaxation faded, his expression growing serious. “Half a cup of Fae mead shouldn’t have made you drunk, no. But I think you roofied yourself, luv.”
I glared at him, offended. “Did not!”
But he only shook his head. “You attacked Alby by drawing on his animus. Fae animus. I imagine all the Fae magic you swallowed when you did that interacted with the Fae magic in the drink. Your demon blood probably made the effect even worse.” A brief smile tugged up one corner of his lips. “Face it, Zorah—you’re well and truly sloshed on faerie juice.”
I couldn’t help it—I started snickering. Rans rose gracefully from the couch and pulled me to my feet, slinging an arm around me so he could guide me into the kitchen. Once there, he poured me into a chair at the breakfast nook... thingie, and started puttering around in the refrigerator.
I slumped forward, resting my forehead on my arms—still smiling, though I couldn’t have said why. On some level, I knew there was a whole lot of stuff going
