Page 117 of The Turning of the Tables

You’re not helpful.

Nope.

I’m a potato, remember?

Do you think if I asked a potato it would know?

You should try.

Let me know how it goes.

I’d been aboutto shut off my phone’s screen when another message came in.

Can you stop by BTV at any point today?It was Ward Campion.

Sure, I sent back.I don’t have anywhere to be until noon.What time?

Anytime, he replied.I’m here.

It was about nine-thirty, so I finished my coffee and shoved the rest of my peanut butter toast in my mouth, wincing a little as my knee protested the speed at which I’d stood up. I brushed a little peanut butter and some crumbs off the corners of my mouth with a thumb, then half-limped my way to the door, grabbing keys and a bag that I didn’t really need, since all I was going to do was wash and fold clothes and sheets, anyway. But it felt more like going to work if I had a satchel with me.

I’d had to turn in my tablet, since that belonged to thestate of Virginia, but I kept a notebook in the messenger bag, along with whatever book I was currently reading (I’m one of those tree-killing monsters who still likes paperbacks, even though I usually didn’t splurge and buy them most of the time) and some odds and ends like Aleve, one of the few pain medications I could take, and some sanitizer and bandages in case I cut myself doing something stupid.

That used to be nicking myself on some piece of equipment, but was now just as likely to be a cardboard box papercut or my own claws against my fists while trying not to turn feral.

I locked the door—Noah had already gone in—and headed down to my car. I took whatever shifts they could give me, but Noah had switched to a more normal-people schedule when I’d gone back to work so that he could take me in and pick me up, and so that he could keep an eye on me.

I was trying to convince him that he’d be fine keeping whatever schedule he wanted and going back to sleeping at Lulu’s sometimes, but I hadn’t thus far been successful. Not that I wanted him to stay at Lulu’s, exactly, but I could tell he wasn’t happy, and the tone in his voice when he talked to Lulu on the phone or said goodnight on the evenings that Lulu came over for dinner was wistful enough that I felt more guilt than I did dislike of Lulu.

Lulu is fine, really. There is nothing wrong with Lulu. No red flags, nothing that should make me actually dislike them. I just do. Which probably, I am aware, means that I’m just being jealous of my twin’s time, which probably isn’t all that healthy.

But I’m not very good at healthy relationships. Please see every relationship disaster I’ve ever been in, plus the whatever-it-is thing I have going on with a badger shifter wholives a thousand miles away. I should never be the one to judge the relative health of anybody else’s relationships.

I drove over to Beyond the Veil and found a spot on the side street on my way toward the back. I got out of the FJ Cruiser, limping as I walked the half block to the BTV offices because my knee had decided it still hated me.

Rayn, the touch-psychic who worked the front desk, looked up when I came in. He was wearing a close-fitting mask in the same light blue as his short-sleeved button-down.

“Hello, Mr. Mays!”

“It’s just Mays, Rayn,” I corrected him, the same way I always did.

He nodded at me, the movement oddly wooden and fleeting, the way it always was, although he seemed a little more jittery than usual. Not that I was one to judge. “Okay,” he agreed. “Mays.”

I knew he’d go back to the ‘mister’ the next time I came in. If I came in again. I certainly wasn’t going to be bringing any bones around anytime soon. I’m sure Maza would just stop in himself now.

“Ward asked me to come in,” I told Rayn, and he nodded.

“He’s in the conference room,” he said. “There’s no client, so you can go back.”

“Thanks.”

I shuffled my way back to the conference room, my stomach tight. The last time I’d been in there had been with Elliot—working, first, then… Then we’d ended up back at his hotel room. I flexed my hands, trying to make the tingling skin go away, to regain control over the primal drive to shift that came with any strong surge of emotion.

It was less intense now than it used to be. Everythingwas—the sounds, the smells, the sensations. Or maybe I was just getting used to it.

I paused in the doorway, feeling my eyes go wide as I saw the table for the first time. “Holy shit.” I felt my neck flush as the words slipped out of their own volition.

Ward, who was sitting at the table, looked up and grinned. He wasn’t wearing a mask, although there was one on the table beside him. “It’s gorgeous, right?”