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His lips curved in the barest smile. "I won't bore you with an explanation but, yes, it's a bad thing. From herein you can expect Gabriel Sandford's team to act in accordance with standard Cabal rules of engagement."
"They have rules for ... ?" I shook my head. "Let me get that coffee going before I do need something stronger."
I walked into the kitchen, then turned around. "How about a snack? I don't think either of us ate our burgers this afternoon."
"If you're having something, then I'll join you, but don't--"
"How about cookies? Do you like chocolate chip?"
He nodded. After turning on the oven, I took a sheet from underneath the stove, and grabbed a Tupperware container from the freezer. I pulled off the l
id, then tipped the box to show Cortez the tiny balls of cookie dough within.
"Instant fresh cookies," I said.
"Good idea."
"My mom's, not mine. Mothers know all the tricks, don't they?"
"Cooking was never my mother's forte. We tried cookies once. The dog wouldn't touch them."
I paused in transferring the cookie dough to the sheets. Had he lived with his mother, then? Obviously. Mother and father? Did sorcerers leave their sons with their mothers? Or did they marry? I wanted to ask, to compare stories. I was always curious to see how other races did things. It was like learning baking tricks from my mother--other races were bound to have learned tactics for living in the human world, tactics that I might be able to apply to the Coven and make our lives easier, less furtive. I thought of asking, but it seemed too much like prying.
Once the cookies were in the oven, I loaded up the coffeemaker, then excused myself to use the bathroom. When I returned, Cortez was pouring brewed coffee into mugs.
"Black?" he said.
"Black for tea, cream for coffee," I said, opening the fridge. "Strange, I know, but black coffee's just too strong. That's how you take yours, right?"
He nodded. "A taste acquired in college. Spend enough late nights poring over law texts and you learn to take caffeine hits strong and black."
"So you really are a lawyer. I'll admit, when you said you misrepresented yourself in the beginning, I was hoping you didn't mean that part wasn't true."
"No need to worry. I passed the bar last year."
"Pretty young, isn't it?" I said. "You must have fast-tracked your way through school." I turned on the oven light and crouched to check the cookies.
"I condensed my studies," he said. "As I believe you did."
I smiled up at him as I stood. "Did your homework, huh, Counselor?"
"A degree in computer science, completed nearly three years ago. From Harvard no less."
"Not nearly as impressive as it sounds. There are far better schools for computer science, but I wanted to stick close to home. My mother was getting older. I was worried." I laughed. "Wow, I've gotten so used to saying that I can almost convince myself. Truth is, my mom was fine. I wasn't ready to leave the nest. Mom ran a successful business, and we always lived simply, so she'd put aside enough for me to have my pick of schools. I got a partial scholarship, and we decided Harvard made sense. And, of course, it looks great on a resume." I took two small plates from the cupboard. "So where'd you go to school? No, wait. I bet I can guess."
He lifted his brows quizzically.
"It's a theory," I said. "Well, more of a party game actually, but I like to give it the veneer of scientific respectability. My friends and I have this hypothesis that you can always tell where someone went to school by the way they say the name of their alma mater."
Another brow arch.
"I'm serious. Take Harvard, for example. Doesn't matter where you came from originally, after three years at Harvard, it's Hah-vahd."
"So before you went to Harvard, you pronounced the 'r'?"
"No, I'm a Bostonian. It's always been Hah-vahd. Wait, the cookies are almost done."
I turned off the timer with five seconds to go, then pulled out the tray and moved the steaming cookies onto the rack.
