“And…” She spreads her hands and grins. “We’re going.”
“I do love a good gala,” says Warren, at the same time I say, “We’re not going to the bloody gala!”
Oliver strokes his chin. “Question. Are your sisters as hot as you are? Because that’s all the reason I need.”
Warren laughs, and so does Miss Bonnivarde, who claims she’s actually the ugly duckling of the three, and I very nearly flip the table just to distract everyone from this ridiculous line of inquiry.
“This conversation is breaking all the bounds of propriety,” I grumble, returning my attention to Medusa, the only one who ever really listens. She rests her big head in my lap and sighs, bits of garbage stuck to her face, now stuck to my shirt, which feels like a metaphor.
“Remember in the old days, when you knew how to have a good time?” Oliver asks.
Warren rolls his eyes. “Thisguy? Good time?”
“Well, there was thatoneparty, anyways. And that girl… what was her name?”
They’re clearly enjoying themselves, entirely at my expense. There has never been a girl. Not in the way they’re implying.
An old, familiar guilt twists like a knife, and I wonder if I could summon enough demonic will to incinerate myself.
“We’re not going,” I say instead, with as much finality as I can muster, considering I’m now wearing half the kitchen bin. “It’s too dangerous and too pointless, and I’ll not have you risking your safety over a hunch. We will figure something else out, and?—”
“Listen, Dr. Sutherland,” Miss Bonnivarde says. “I appreciate that you’re looking out for me. But you’re still keeping secrets, and I don’t like it.”
My insides burn. “What secrets?”
“Like, apparently we have an actual apocalypse to prevent? And as much as I’m down for the magical misadventure, I couldreallyuse you on my side. All of you. But that requires trust. Trust that you seem determined not to give me, no matter how hard I’ve worked, or how badly I’ve tried to prove myself.”
“Idotrust you, Miss Bonnivarde,” I say, surprised to hear the words, but knowing they’re absolutely true. “It’s just?—”
“No.” She shakes her golden blonde head, adamant. “Trust requires sharing knowledge. It requires hearing me out. It requires acknowledging when I have a good fucking lead and a good fucking idea because not only am I a Bonnivarde witch, but I’ve got a woman’s intuition and a lifetime of experience with bottom-feeding men trying to pass themselves off as respectable. So when I tell you that Nathan Killroy is involved in this up to his clenched and dusty asshole, you need to back me up. If that’s too much for you to manage? Then we’re done here.” She rises from her chair, blazing like a star. No one moves as she gathers up her things and heads for the door.
Warren kicks me under the table. Hard.
“Miss Bonnivarde…” I sigh. Rub my eyes. “Wait. Just… give me a moment to think.”
“All you do is think, Professor. I’m done giving you moments. I amgoingto that gala. I’m going to figure out what the guy is hiding. And you’d better watch your ass, because I’m a witch on a mission, and I just might find out whatyou’rehiding, too.”
“That… won’t be necessary.” Another sigh. A feeling as though I’m about to sign my own death warrant, though my so-called mates arehighlyentertained. “You’re right, Miss Bonnivarde. You deserve my trust. You’ve more than earned it. I’m… I’m sorry I made you doubt it.”
Just like that, her smile returns. “So glad you’ve finally seen the light, Dr. Sutherland. So here’s the plan.”
“You’ve already got a plan?” Of course she does.
“We’reallgoing to the gala. We’re going to suss him out, suss out his creepy associates, search the place, figure out his angle, whatever it is.”
“And what will you tell your sisters about our attendance?” I ask.
“That I randomly stumbled upon three smoking hot demons ready to take us all out for a nice fancy night on the town?” She laughs. “No. You guys will just have to meet us there, in your human forms, in formal attire. Leave the logistics to me. Do you think you can handle that?”
“I think we can handle that,” says Warren. “I’m just not sure we can handleyou. For fuck’s sake, are all the Bonnivarde witches like this?”
“We’re each our own, special kind of pain in the ass. Variety, spice of life, etcetera.” She laughs again, glowing from the inside out, as usual. “Nice meeting you guys—I need to get over to the bookstore. Dr. Sutherland, I’ll be working in the basement tonight if you want to check in later. Okay?”
I nod, and off she goes, and the room lets out a collective breath.
The scent of her lingers, sweet and floral, and suddenly I’m jealous that they’re breathing it in, too. I don’t want to share her. Any part of her.
“You all right, Merri?” Warren asks. “You look a little… bulldozed.”
