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12
Archer
“Are you going to get that?” Davis raises a brow as I ignore my ringing phone again. I pull it out of my pocket, flip the ringer to off, and hit the button to ignore the call.
“Avoiding anyone in particular?”
“My mother. She’s having a fundraiser next weekend at her house, and she’s requested I attend.”
“Ah, shit. Are you going?”
I hardly ever go to the events my parents, well, mostly my mother, organizes. She’s always got something on the docket, and frequently demands my presence. We don’t have a good relationship. My parents are cold people. They’re unfeeling, perfection seeking snobs who think the world should kiss their feet. How they ever got involved with Anthony and his Axis of doom is beyond my comprehension. I can only assume there was a promise of power, wealth, everything their black little hearts could desire.
“Likely not. I can’t imagine there’s anything she can say to persuade me. It’s not like I have a secret desire to be tortured by bored housewives and husbands hitting on me all night. You know, last time I went to one of her parties, Adina and Bob Richards both propositioned me.”
“They have to be twice your age. What, they wanted to have a threesome?” The look of disgust on Davis’s face is almost worth dredging up that memory.
“No, you misunderstand. They propositioned me separately. They both tried to get me to a back room to fool around. Honestly, I feel like this happens to me way more than normal. This shit doesn’t happen to you.”
Davis’s laugh is a short sharp burst of sound. “That’s because I hate people and actively avoid them. Smiling hurts my face and I’ve perfected saying piss off with just my eyes.”
“Damn, I should be meaner.”
“You’re a people pleaser, Arch. I don’t think you have it in you.” Davis slaps me on the back and I groan. He’s not wrong.
“You sure this is how you want to spend your afternoon?” Davis nods at the poorly covered entrance to the tunnel we found a while back. It had been a surprise to stumble over the door to a hidden passageway in one of our buildings. The tunnel led away from downtown and to the edge of the Fae Woods, where it meets the beach.
“I spent the time tracking down ownership, so we might as well.” It took a bit, but I was able to figure out that this slice of property is owned by the city itself. Most of the beaches and the wooded areas on the island are public and owned by the city, so it wasn’t a huge surprise to find that this part of the woods was the same.
“I think I was hoping you’d find a name, and we’d point a finger. Maybe beat someone up and get some answers about why they have a casting room just beyond the back room of our building.”
“The only bit of information I could find about this location is on the building itself. Apparently, it’s the center point of the entire island. Or very close to.”
“Is there some magical Fae reason why that would make this a good location for a casting room?”
“Hell if I know.”
“We should ask Lena. She probably has a book on this shit.”
“Why would I ask her? You might see her before me.” I move to straighten out my cuffs, but I’m not wearing a suit today. Shit.
Davis slowly turns his head to eyeball me, and I realize that my response wasn’t at all subtle.
“Wasn’t giving you an assignment. Whoever sees her first can ask. Chill out. Are you having a panic attack because of the sand?”
“Fuck you. Sand is insidious and evil. You’ll never change my mind.”
Davis rolls his eyes and looks down at his watch.
We’ve been putting off heading back into the tunnels for a few reasons. Davis isn’t a huge fan of confined spaces, not that I want to move in and live here, but they don’t bother me like they do him. I told him he didn’t have to come, but I think because the path leads to Tonic, Miri’s store, he feels more than a little obligated.
Things have also been hectic, to say the least. Everything going on with Anthony Hatcher, Davis’s dad getting flayed alive, Davis and Miri forming the bond that could start the creation of an Axis—it’s just been a lot.
The sound of a four-wheeler coming down the beach catches my attention, and I spot Ezra racing toward us. He’s wearing jeans and a t-shirt, apparently immune to the insane breeze blowing in from the ocean today. There’s no way it’s more than fifty degrees out, but Ezra runs hot.
“Sorry I’m late. Fucking Mrs. Bunchen wouldn’t let me leave her house. She kept trying to get me to promise to take her daughter out.”
Davis and I snicker, because this is an ongoing problem. Half the town has gotten a pet since Ezra opened up his veterinary practice in town. I think he fields more offers for dates than he works with actual animals.
