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“I really hope you’re wrong. I want Leo to be a good guy. I want him to have our back. But . . .” I rubbed my cheek where he’d backhanded me. “Any man who hits a woman out of frustration . . . I just can’t trust him, even if that’s the only bad thing he ever does. I’m nobody’s punching bag.”
Peyton bit her lip. “I think I’d better do a little private sleuthing on Leo—what’s his background? How much do we really know about him?”
“I only know what Rhia has told me, and what Leo’s said. For all I know, he comes from Mars and secretly phones home once a month.” I pointed toward her phone. “You’d better call him back, warn him to lie low.”
She punched in the number and mumbled a few words into the receiver, then hung up again. “Okay, done. I didn’t tell him why I wanted him to hide out, but he seemed to agree it was a good idea. As soon as they give you permission to talk about what happened, you better tell me. Anadey’s my mother, and if she’s fucking up, I want to know. I’ve always trusted her . . . it kills me to think that she might be a traitor.”
“Or maybe, just a very worried Mama . . .” I stared out the window. “I’ll know more tomorrow night. Go to bed now, and try to get some sleep.”
As soon as Peyton left, I slid out of my clothes and into my bed. I was worn through, but it took me a couple of hours before I could take my own advice. Once I dropped off, though, I slept like the dead.
With morning came an e-mail from Lannan. I glanced at the time stamp—he’d written it shortly before dawn. Or, at least, he’d sent it around then. I hesitated, my cursor hovering over it before I finally decided to open it.
I’m going to tell you this once, and once only. I’ve hinted before as to Geoffrey not being all he seems. Tonight, you will find him charming, witty, and he’ll give you your heart’s desire. You will probably trust him and come to doubt anything I have to say. But I say it anyway: Don’t be a fool. Listen to your head, not your cunt—perhaps odd advice coming from me, but truly, for a breather, I’ve come to enjoy your company. I’d prefer to meet you in the flesh than to remember you in spirit. Lannan.
I stared at the e-mail, then printed it out, tucked it away with my magical supplies, and deleted it. I then emptied my Deleted Items folder and cleared my cache. Of course, Lannan had no clue that I’d seen what had gone on. Like Lannan or hate him, I suspected that I could trust his word more than Geoffrey’s. The feeling unsettled me.
After I showered and dressed, I wandered downstairs. Rhiannon and Luna were cooking breakfast. Kaylin was reading through The Rise of the Indigo Court, searching for something we could use. The book was slow going, though, dense and filled with arcane facts and obscure references. Leo was outside, shoveling snow, and Chatter was staring out the window at the Golden Wood, a pensive look on his face.
“Where’s Peyton?”
“She was up early and headed out. She said she’ll be back around ten A.M. to open up for business. Is she really quitting the diner?” Rhia shook her head. “Whatever Anadey did, it must have been bad.” Her voice lingered over the words, but she didn’t ask any questions.
“Trust Peyton.” As I buttered my toast and spread jam on it, there was a sudden whisper on the slipstream, and my wolf let out a low rumble, not a howl, not pain, but a slow stream of yipping noises that sounded almost joyful. I stared down at my stomach.
Grieve! It was Grieve and he wasn’t in pain—and it was daylight. I pressed my hand to my stomach and focused, but all I could feel was the joyous dancing of my wolf. Before anyone could notice what I was doing, I stopped and reached for the orange juice, trying to remain low-key.
Leo came stomping in, looking red in the face from the exertion. He nodded when he saw me, unwrapping the scarf from around his neck and sliding out of his jacket.
“We’re having the winter from hell,” he said, panting.
“Of course we are. Look who’s bringing it in.” I motioned toward an empty chair. “You should sit down. You don’t look well.”
He fidgeted, tugging at his collar as he coughed. “I don’t feel so good. I’m really sweating, and my throat hurts.” As he winced, Rhia crossed to his side.
“Open your mouth,” she said. He did and she peered down his throat. “As I thought. You’ve got a nasty swollen throat. The beginnings of strep throat or laryngitis at best. Get out of your clothes and up to bed.”
“Geoffrey expects me to take care of his errands today—” Leo tried to push himself to his feet, but he was so unsteady that he almost fell. Rhia caught him on one side, Kaylin from the other.
“You aren’t going anywhere. What’s so important that it can’t wait?”
“I’ve got a list here . . .” He waved his notebook around, but then the fever took him and he dropped it and slumped back in the chair, mumbling.
I picked up his Day-Timer and flipped it open. A number of errands, yes, but nothing that couldn’t be taken care of by any one of us.
“We can do this, dude. You get your butt up to bed. Rhiannon, Kaylin, make sure he’s under the covers. I’m going to see Geoffrey tonight; I’ll just take his dry cleaning with me.”
Besides, I thought, it would give me a chance to learn a bit more about the Regent. There weren’t any exclusively secret operations listed, but some of the errands would perhaps shed some light on just who I was dealing with.
As Rhia and Kaylin struggled to get Leo up the stairs, I went back to my toast and jam, wondering what I was going to find out—if anything. But in the back of my mind, Lannan’s e-mail played itself over and over, and I hated the fact that I believed every word he’d written.
Chapter 20
The first few items were easy, and rather boring. I stopped at Cheri’s Alterations & Dry Cleaning and picked up Geoffrey’s clothing, marveling at the rampant textures and colors of the Regent’s smoking jackets. There were ten. He must change clothes twice a day, I thought, to go through this many.
As I pulled out of the mini-mall’s parking lot, Favonis purred and I cruised along the streets, watching passersby. It might have been any other year, any holiday shopping rush, except people walked in groups, and cars were no longer single-occupant. Carpooling had suddenly become popular in New Forest.
I turned up the music—“Napalm Love” by Air pounded out of the speakers and I thought about Lannan’s note. There were no demands in it, no orders to pay him back for his advice. For once, I had the feeling he might be stepping outside his comfort zone and doing something altruistic.
