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Wilder reached across the distance and placed his large hand at the back of my neck, giving me a faint, comforting squeeze with his long fingers. He didn’t need to say anything, we both knew what had happened on the highway. Me cackling hysterically in the passenger seat was probably the best possible reaction I could have had right then.
Inside the house, it smelled like cooked meat. There was a big stir-fry in a pan on the stove, with plenty of steak strips in among the beautiful, bright vegetables. A pot of rice sat next to it.
In spite of the late hour, it appeared that Magnolia had timed the cooking perfectly, as steam was still rising from both dishes.
I hadn’t imagined I would be hungry, but the sight of the fresh meal made my stomach rumble. We had eaten before leaving Callum’s, but you’d be hard pressed to find a werewolf who wasn’t always a bit peckish.
Magnolia didn’t even ask how we were, she pulled out the chairs and heaped up plates for both of us, then made her own plate and sat d
own across from me. Wilder stared at his plate, bewildered, then dove in. Mags left her plate largely untouched, watching us eat. The basket of folded laundry sat next to her chair.
Once we were done scraping the bottom of our dishes she said, “So, tell me what happened. The two of you look like you saw a ghost.”
I hazarded a glance at Wilder, who had to pause on his last bite because he had choked.
“That’s certainly one way to put it,” I admitted, pushing my plate away.
Magnolia stood as if she was going to clean the table off but I waved her away. “Stand down, woman. You’ve probably cleaned this stupid house top to bottom in the last two days because I wasn’t here to stop you.”
She flushed, and I knew I was right.
“You’re not my maid,” I scolded her.
“I know, but I want to be useful.”
I snorted. “Without you my whole damn life would fall apart. But you don’t need to clean my laundry.”
“I was here anyway.”
“Mags.”
“Genie.” She gave me a serious look. “You go out and fight your fights. Let me do what I do.” She took my plate and Wilder’s and deposited them in the sink, giving them a quick wash before sitting back at the table.
“Will you at least let me pay you more?”
A smile turned up her lips and made her look much closer to a teenager than a woman in her mid-twenties. Her long, white-blonde hair was loose around her shoulders and her tanned skin looked radiant and healthy even in the late months of the year. Magnolia should be modeling for an outdoor sporting goods company, not making me dinner and maintaining my calendar. But if she was happy, who was I to tell her she was wrong?
“You can pay me however much you want to pay me.”
I had a funny feeling she would show up here every day at eight with my preferred Starbucks order whether or not I paid her a dime. It made me want to give her a million dollars a year.
God I loved her.
I made a mental note to call my accountant—yes, I had a pack accountant—and get him to increase her payroll as soon as this Mercy situation was resolved.
She would probably just insist on doing more work. Maniac.
“Tell me what’s going on,” she nudged.
I gave her a quick rundown of the events of the last two days, providing more detail on the Mercy situation than I’d been able to over the phone. Mags had grown up at Callum’s compound right alongside Ben and myself, the daughter of Callum’s second-in-command Amelia, so she had her own memories of The Den, and her own attachments to the place.
I saw her face pale and an uncommonly angry expression settle over her features.
“Did you tell Secret?” she asked.
“Why does everyone keep suggesting that?”
“Wouldn’t you want to know if your mortal enemy slash mother was back from the dead?”
