“Not sure that would create the pictures we saw. What if I raise the dead with my playing or something?” Oh god, I hope I’m joking.
Harper shrugs. “There’s never gonna be an empty seat in the audience.”
Playing for an entire concert hall of zombies and ghouls sounds more terrifying than a living audience.But it’s surprisingly nice to chat about this. I glance at Harper’s profile, his strong jaw outlined by the soft glow of a nearby streetlight.
I realize I feel... safe. The thought is so unfamiliar that I almost trip over my own feet.
“You surprised me tonight,” I tell him when I recover and remember how to walk like a normal person.
“What, that a dog like me likes to read?” he guesses wryly.
“No, I thought you were an upstanding honorable man of the law.” At least teasing Harper is a familiar pastime, though there’s no bite to my words this time.
“And you’re saying I’m not?”
“Not according to the evidence laid out in front of me.” I nudge him with my elbow playfully. “You’re a cheater.”
“Here I thought we were actually getting along, then you go and insult me.” He places a hand over his heart, feigning offense.
“It’s not an insult,” I assure him. “I’m kind ofimpressedyou tried to cheat at the high striker game by using the machine for humans.”
“Oh, that.” Harper coughs, looking almost embarrassed. I almost want to stop and study that look, the way his gaze drops to the pavement and his hand rubs the back of his neck, but that would be weird.
“Well, I wanted to win you the prize,” he admits, and my stomach does a little flip I wasn’t expecting.
“So I’m the bad influence that started your downfall? Likely story, blaming the necromancer.”
“This was a one-time incident,” he insists.
“Sure, that’s what they all say.”
He snorts. “Fooling an attendant at a carnival game doesn’t make me a criminal mastermind.”
“Not yet.”
“When it came to either failing to disclose my shifter nature or missing out on seeing you light up the way you did when I gave you the music box, I decided that missing out on your smile was the bigger sin,” he says softly. When Harper faces me, the streetlight catches his golden eyes, making them glow like warm honey.
“Whoa.” The word tumbles out as my brain short-circuits.
“Sorry, was that too much?”
“Just surprising,” I say. The whole day’s been full of surprises, and I’m not talking about the carnival.
I start walking faster, not sure I want to stick around and see what he’ll say next. I can’t quite remember why getting closer to him is a bad idea, besides the giant mate-shaped tyrannosaurus in the room—because an elephant is too small—but there are definitely reasons we’re a bad idea. I may remember them tomorrow when I’m not drowning in the amber warmth of his gaze and the lingering scent of carnival treats on the night air.
“Dodger, wait. I need to say something.” Harper catches up to me at an intersection and stops me before I can cross. “We got started off on the wrong foot, and it’s probably my fault. You’d have plenty of reasons to be wary of a detective from Brighton and I didn’t do anything to ease your concerns.”
“I just thought… I wondered if…” For some reason, my voice won’t come out louder than a whisper. “Do you not like necromancers?”
“Who someone is and what they do matters more than what they are,” he says. The faint flicker of the streetlight above us catches the sharp line of his jaw, casting shadows across his face. He pauses, drawing in a deep breath. “But to be completelyhonest, I did have a bad experience with a necromancer in the past. I thought I was over it, but being around you is bringing up those memories again.”
“Oh.” Sharing even this vague admission seems to have cost him a lot, so I bite my lip to avoid pressing for more details. The questions bubble up regardless. What experience with a necromancer left such an impression on him? It has to be something personal instead of professional. He doesn’t seem to rattle easily while on the job.
“But my issues aren’t your fault and have nothing to do with you,” he continues. “I’m sorry it’s taken me a while to adjust.”
“Uh, I get that it must be difficult,” I say, shuffling my feet. “You have plenty of reasons not to trust me. I’m accusing your boss.”
His gaze remains steady, unwavering. “I believe you.”
