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“If the Browns show up, then you fly away,” Damien said. “In fact, why don’t you do that now?” He no longer needed her to find this hidden bunker.
“Nuh-uh. They have nets. They’re bad men. They’ll catch me.”
First Pet never wanted to return here, and now she wanted what? To come inside with him? Fairies were psycho.
“I do not have time for this.” He reached for the front of his travel bag and grabbed his tools. He just wanted to get in and out as quickly as possible. His only interest was inspecting this bunker to see who might still be there and what it was made of. Steel? Lead? Some supernatural insulation?
Whatever the case, he needed to go back to the gods with an update. Hopefully, that update would entail saying he’d hit a dead end and they should seek a solution elsewhere.
For example, the probability that Pet and her friends had been inside the bunker during the blast was extremely low. The Browns were in the business of selling exotic creatures, not keeping a zoo. And if her friends had all been in different locations during the blast, that information would tell him nothing. The only way this lead could go somewhere was if all the creatures in the bunker had a common denominator, such as a key genetic trait or special powers. Otherwise, he highly doubted he’d be able to explain why some immortals were spared and others were not. Certainly, he did not expect to find a solution to bring everyone back.
Damien exited the vehicle. Pet flew out behind him, wiggling back into his pocket.
Fine. As long as she stayed out of his hair. “And no more eating my suit,” he grumbled.
He marched up to the front door and knocked, trying to look like a man on official business. Meanwhile, his hands got to work on the lock.
Pop!The door swung open on its own.
“Hello, sir. May I come in?” Damien extended his hand inside, pretending to greet someone. “We had an appointment to discuss your insurance.”
Damien stepped inside and closed the door. “You can come out now, Pet.”
“Who were you talking to?” Pet muttered from the safety of his jacket.
“No one. I wanted it to look like the owners invited me in—in case a neighbor saw me.”
“Why?”
“Because humans are snoops. And snoops make poops.”
Pet popped her head out. “Huh?”
It was something his father used to say. Not much of a swearer. “Never mind. We need to hurry.”
Damien walked through the kitchen. It was grimy and spartan with only a beat-up breakfast table in the corner. Old cream-colored curtains hung on the window over a rusted-out sink.
He quickly did a sweep through the house, which was in a state of disarray—drawers turned out, the contents of closets on the floor, cupboards left open, etc. The police had been here already.
At the end of the hall, he found two doors. One probably led to the garage, but that didn’t interest him.
He inspected the second door with the steel frame and heavy-duty industrial lock.A little overboard for securing an inventory of fairies.Whatever the Browns had kept down there, they’d wanted to make sure it did not get out. No wonder Pet could not open it.
“Do you smell that?” Pet trembled in his pocket, vibrating against his hip.
“Smell what?”
“Roadkill. Oh, and nail polish. I love nail polish!”
How delightful.“Why don’t you stay up here and keep a lookout at the window.” If there was anything dead down there, he did not need to deal with a hysterical fairy.
“Really? You want me to be your lookout?” She flew out and blinked up at him with her big eyes.
“Yes.”
“Okay, but the murdered reporter lady says to hurry up. Something doesn’t feel right.”
Sky was here? “Gods fucking dammit,” he snapped. “Why is she—you know what? Neverthehellmind. I have work to do.”
