My mouthrunsdry.
My heart squeezes.
As my hands clench and unclench at my sides, Itryto open my mouth to warn him, but Ican’tspeak over the hard lump in my throat.Oh gods, I’mabout to commit murder, and it’s noteven going to be on the right person!
A small noise escapesme, barely loud enough for me to hear.But maybe none of my babieshaveescaped?Maybe when Jace opensthat door, hewon’tbe jumped by a dozen angry, starving wasps?Maybe Icanstillsomehow convince Richard to go in first, but how?
A movement by one of the windowscatchesmy gaze.My heartfeelslike it’sgoing to explode as Itryto see who itis.I pray that it’s notGionova.She’sa drama queen whogoescrazy if I’meven one minute late feeding her.And it’sbeen… Itryto do a quick calculation, but my brainisn’tworking.A bloody long time, whatever itis.
“Wait,” Richardcallsout from in front of me.“There’s something inside.”
I raise a hand to my lips as Jace movesto the side, a hand on his waist.Deargods, I’m never going to try murder again.This is way too stressful.Butthen the pin drops, and I realise whatwillhappen as soon as helooksthrough the window.Waspsarekilled first, befriended later.
Scrambling forward, I make it two steps before Richard yanksme back.“Don’t go in!”I shout.My thoughts racing, I snag at the bits of truth thatwon’tmake me sound like I’m tryingto kill him.Something thatwillgive my pets the best chance of survival despite beinghungry, angrybastards.“I think they might’ve got out!”
“What might have?”
Itrynot to sound too guilty.“My wasps,” Irasp, knowing how he’lltake it.Everyone hatesthem, fearsthem.Theyarethings to be killed, not loved.But that’sjust because no one evergivesthem a chance.
And okay, even after that chance, theyarestill kind of dicks.But theyarecute dicks.And they mean well.And I love them.Ican’tlet him – Hecan’t –
“Wasps?”he says flatly.
My heart drops to its knees as chaos erupts all around us.
“We have to move,”a browniesayssoftly.
“Only grab the necessities,”says another.
“I’ll grab the statue.”
“I’ll pack the golf clubs.”
“The kids, Harold!”
“Are you sure?In six months, the twins becometeens.”
A hard lump in my throat, Idrown them out as I look at my king, knowing he wants an answer.I want to plead their case to them, but I canonly nod.
“How many?”hedemands.
I struggle to breathe, desperate to think of something that’llmake the number not seem so high.Thatwon’tmake him want to burn the whole house down.I’msupposed to protect them,butnow I might very well get them killed.
“Don’t make me ask again,” he warns, a hard note to his voice thatmakesme flinch.
“I – I don’t know.A couple days ago, there were only six that had hatched and about eleven larvae.I separated them all beforemum’swedding, but…”
As the hundreds of brownieswalk quicklyto their own homes, Richard looksat me with unreadable eyes.“You do know wasps are venomous, right?”
I nod, silently asking him to see them as something other than that.
“And yet you’re living with seventeen of them?”
“Well, it was nineteen,” I babble, “but Hyatt is gone now, and he killed Bo, so – Ow!”
His gripislike iron as he dragsme away from my house.His fingersloosenedthe slightest bitat my yelp, butIstillhave noillusion that I’llbe able to free myself.“Are you telling me you’ve been living with murderous wasps?”His dark tone and the weight of his eyestellme to say no.
I move my tongue around in my mouth, trying to wet it enough to speak.“No– Ah...”Coughing, Itryagain.“No?”
