“Foolish of you both to assume I don’t always have the ashes of powerful dead fae on my person for just such an emergency,” Quill said tartly. Then she turned with a flounce of her skirts. “Now, as enjoyable as this has been, I am done with you. But I very much look forward to collecting on what you both owe me. This is, as you mortals would say, quite a dear diary moment.”
Honestly, at that point, I was relieved to see the back of her. Knowing Quill, if she’d been eager to stick around, it would have meant even more disaster was headed our way.
And I really, really could not take one more disaster that day.
“Come on,” Horst said, leading me to the café section and guiding me to a chair. “You should drink something. It’ll help your throat.”
He loaded a glass with ice, then filled it with pink lemonade before setting it on the table in front of me.
I took a long sip, the cold lemonade easing the burn in my throat. “You asked Quill for a favor.”
Horst got one of the unused saucers and put a couple cookies on it. He carried it over, sat down across from me, and slid the plate over. “Yes,” he said. “I did.”
“You said we should never ask Quill for favors,” I pointed out. “You said you would rather die than owe her.”
“And I would rather owe her than let anything happen to you.” He reached across the table and took my hand in his. “I am so sorry. I never meant for you to get caught up in all that.”
“Who was that guy?”
“Dirchan is a mortician in a small town in Oklahoma. He mostly caters to magical families.” Oomy climbed out of his pocket and chittered at him encouragingly. “You might think I’m a terrible person for stealing from him, but quite a few magical objects passed through his funeral home and he helped himself to anything that struck his fancy. He isn’t such a great guy himself. I don’t think he would have cared about me stealing from him if I hadn’t accidentally stolen the brooch he’d made using his mother’s ashes.”
“Accidentally?”
He waved his free hand. “Fine—I purposefully stole the brooch. I just hadn’t realized it was so powerful because his mother’s power was trapped in it.”
“But the brooch you gave him wasn’t the actual brooch. Won’t he look at it later and realize it’s not the same?”
“Oh, come on.” He smiled fondly at me. “You know how men are. You think he ever actually looked at it? As long as he felt his mother’s presence—and whatever spell Quill did on it made sure he did—then he’s satisfied.”
I considered trying a cookie, but opted for another sip of lemonade instead. “Why’d you break into the pawn shop instead of just going during business hours? And why did you take me along?”
He turned his face away, rubbing his hand over the back of his neck. “I’m not actually allowed inside Clyde’s anymore. His wife is a big fan of my lotions, and Clyde may have misunderstood the meaning of some of her social media hashtags.”
“Like #ILikeBigPipes?”
“Something like that.” He had the decency to look a teeny bit ashamed. But only for a moment. Brightening, he added, “And I took you along partly because I was trying to keep you safe, but mostly because I thought it was a pretty damn romantic date night.”
Well, he was right about that. Still, I wished he’d just been open with me. “Why didn’t you just tell me what was going on?”
He sighed. “Because I though the less you knew, the safer you would be. Obviously, I was very wrong. I’m sorry he targeted you. I never thought he would stoop to breaking windows and opening rat cages, let alone try to hurt you.” He was quiet for a moment, and then his eyes lit up. “But even without me talking about it, you still managed to figure out how to help me by finding a suitable replacement brooch. You know why that is, Glory O’Bryan?”
I squinted at him. “Because I overheard you talking at the antique store?”
“I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that. The correct answer is because we’re BFFs.” He brought my hand to his lips, kissing my fingertips. “I noticed you haven’t been wearing the necklace I got you.”
“I—” My voice caught in my throat. I had no idea how to finish that sentence.
I wasn’t sure whether it was just a gag gift.
I didn’t know if you would think I take our relationship more seriously than you do.
I don’t know what the term BFF means to you.
I couldn’t say any of that to him, and not just because my throat still felt too raw for a “where is this going” conversation about a relationship that, had I been updating my Facebook status, would have absolutely been classified as “It’s complicated.”
“Don’t worry,” he said. “I think I figured out why.”
I opened my mouth to say something, but he put his thumb on my bottom lip to stop me. “It’s because you don’t want just a BFF necklace. You want something more.”
