Page 121 of Fallen Court

I hugged him without thinking. Shaw froze like this was an entirely new experience for him before finally patting me awkwardly on the back.

“Get some sleep,” I said as I pulled away. Not so much an order as a request. He nodded gratefully, heading toward his bed with a mumbled goodbye.

I had no idea where Baptiste’s restaurant was, but it couldn’t be that hard to find. My pulse ticked up with each floor the elevator descended. This had to be about Lach’s inability to control the mating bond’s protective instinct. It was the only rational explanation for why he’d sent me away while everyone else got to help. I had no clue why it had triggered so strongly last night, or why he’d given in to it, but I wasn’t going to be sidelined by some ancient magical paranoia. I was more determined than ever to remind him that if this thing between us was going to actually work, we had to be equals.

The moment the doors slid open to reveal the lobby, I stormed out and ran directly into someone. I’d begun to mumble “sorry” when I recognized the platinum-streaked black bob.

“Willow, what…?” I started, my brows knitting together as she dumped a sad bouquet into my arms without any of the usual pleasantries. I looked down at the wilted tulips, their petals browning and edges curling like old parchment, some already completely dried out, in confusion.

“I brought these for you.” She shoved a flustered hand through her hair, already turning in a circle, her eyes widening as she took in the Avalon. “You actually live here?”

“Um, yes.” Although I wasn’t sure for how much longer if Lach didn’t get his shit together. I shifted through the brittle flowers in my arms awkwardly, trying not to let the dead ones crumble. Their once vibrant colors had leached away, leaving behind only the ghost of their beauty. “You shouldn’t have.”

“Oh! Sorry!” She spun back to me. “They aren’t a gift. You just mentioned you had an alchemist friend, and I wanted you to ask him what might be up with my eternal bloom spell. It’s never failed before.” There was something like pride in her voice.

“Failed?” I repeated, the single word tasting bitter on my tongue. More magic was failing, there had been another murder, and I’d been sent to my room to let the grown-ups solve all the problems. My frustration lingered for a heartbeat before giving way to resolve. “Not yet, but come upstairs. We can call my friend from there.”

Lach could keep trying to solve everything with intimidation and threats of violence, but I had other resources at my disposal—resources that had proven more effective than his ideas before. If magic was at the heart of our problems, it was time to ask an expert.

Willow hesitated, her eyes darting from the elevator to me, a silent battle waging in her eyes. She was in Gage territory. I’d seen enough of the tension between the city’s magical creatures to understand that, for a witch, walking through the Nether Prince’s door took a leap of faith. Finally, she gave a resigned nod that spoke volumes of the trust we had built. “Might as well see the rest of your place.”

“It’s not my place,” I said through gritted teeth as I called the elevator back. At least it didn’t feel that way right now.

She frowned all the way up to her forehead, which knit together in doubt. Leaning forward, she whispered as if the security camera might be able to hear her, “Do you keep your underwear here?”

“Um…yes,” I said slowly.

She leaned back, crossing her arms with a smirk. “Then it’s your place. Once the panties are in the drawer, the place is yours.”

“I’ll be sure to throw a housewarming party,” I said dryly, but I couldn’t help smiling.

The elevator dinged its arrival on the family’s private floor, and as the doors slid open, Willow let out a low whistle. “Now I get what you see in him.”

I almost laughed, her awe briefly lifting the weight from my shoulders. I hadn’t bothered to lock the place up when I left. I hadn’t even grabbed my purse, I realized when I saw it sitting on the table next to the door. The living room was dark, the curtains still closed and the morning light fighting to penetrate the heavy drapery. I crossed over and opened them, letting the sun wash over the space.

Willow hadn’t moved more than a step from the door, and I waved her inside. “Do you want something to drink?”

“It’s like seven in the morning,” she said, finally moving past the threshold.

“I never went to bed, so it’s still just late to me.” I walked over to the bar cart and poured myself a single finger of Scotch.

She seemed to consider my logic sound. “I’ll take one, too.” She wandered around a bit as I poured, pausing to pick up my Birkin bag. “I swear your entire vibe is Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous. Gods, this is heavy.” She peeked inside and blinked rapidly before putting the purse quickly back on the table. “Now I see why. I take it back. You’re living that mafia-wife life. I just keep lipstick in my purse.”

“He insists,” I said with a grim shrug, carrying the drinks to her.

“I heard about what happened to Étienne,” she said, accepting hers. “Is that why you didn’t sleep?”

“Yes.” I nodded, feeling suddenly cold. I downed the whisky, chasing the chill away. “Did you hear anything else?”

She tapped the glass like she wasn’t sure if she should answer. “Rumor is that there were other murders and that your boyfriend was hiding them.”

No wonder Lach hadn’t come home yet. Dealing with the public spectacle of Étienne’s death was one thing. If news had spread about the other two murders…

“I almost didn’t come,” she continued. “I figured you might have your hands full, but I also thought maybe you could use a distraction.”

I sighed, wondering how I was so easy to read. “I just want to do something. I’m tired of sitting around and waiting for answers.” I fumbled for my phone in my pocket, its screen slick under my fingertips. “Any idea what time it is in Prague?”

She shook her head. “Shit. You weren’t kidding when you said you knew an alchemist.”