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Going over to a diorama that was on a bookshelf full of figurines, he nodded. “Thomas Kinkade. They sold twelve hundred of these things in two minutes last month.”
Candy’s blue lids went wide. “How the hell would you know that?”
“I’m a fan of QVC, too.”
“No shit. I guess all those drugs really did fuck you up.” She laughed. “I’m kidding.”
“No, you aren’t.” He didn’t want to sit down. But where was he going? Not back to C.P. Phalen’s right now. “Ah, so can I ask you a couple of things?”
“Is this a job interview? Because I’m technically enjoying unemployment and I have another six months to go. I’m treating it like a staycation. I’m making bread and knitting.” She ran her hands down her sweater. “I made this. It’s ugly as hell, but I’m proud of it. Then again, I live alone with cats who don’t have an opinion about my clothes—what was the question?”
He debated about how honest to be. Then decided to take a page out of Candy’s vibe.
And fuck it.
“How long has the WSP been shut down?”
Candy went over and sat down on her plaid couch. Moving a set of needles into her lap, she resumed some kind of knit-purling with bright pink yarn. “It’s about three months now, but I’m doing good. I got a year of severance up front. I have to say… Lydia really took care of me when she closed shop.”
“So she was…” He cleared his throat so he could lie. “I mean, of course, she told me what she was doing, of course.”
“Yeah, she was worried about you. Still is.”
“When did you buy her car?”
“Oh, she gave it to me.”
“That was good of her.”
“She’s the best.” Candy lowered her knitting. “Now you want to tell me what this is all about, or do you want to keep playing these games? And I’m sorry I haven’t been by to see you at C.P.’s spread, but I was told your immune system was shot and visitors were not really welcome—also, no offense, but that house always freaked me out. It’s like a fucking mausoleum. You want coffee? Breakfast?”
He thought of the bagels in his pocket. “No, I had something before I left that freaky house.”
Up on the mountain, in a hidden cave with a natural spring-fed pool, Lydia sat on a trunk and stared across a crackling fire. She was back in the red robe from the night before, and across the way from her, stretched out on a pallet, was the male who had been shot at.
“You look so much better,” she said.
“Indeed.” He glanced down at his bare chest. “By nightfall, I should be back to normal.”
“I thought you were going to die.” When he didn’t reply, she exhaled and went back to fixating on the flames. “So… Xhex is your sister.”
“If you don’t mind, I’d like to keep the chatter about my family to a minimum.” Even though his tone was sharp, his eyes were soft as he stared over at her. “I’d rather talk about you.”
“I’m happily married.” Fine, that was technically a lie. But it was also a truth. “My husband…”
“Is dying.” As her head snapped up, he nodded. “My sister mentioned that last night. Often. While they were taking the bullet out of me.”
To avoid his stare, she looked over at the medical supplies that were stacked neatly in the corner. The cave was furnished with trunks and equipment, more of a hideout than a home, but then the wolven who had used this refuge hadn’t intended it to be much more than a transitory pawed-à-terre, so to speak. Lydia hoped that he didn’t mind them borrowing it for a day.
“How did you find this den?” she asked. “It’s well hidden. The wolven up here had to show it to me.”
“My sister knew where it was. She said the guy who used to live here—well, it doesn’t matter.”
How did she know Callum, Lydia wondered.
“They brought you a doctor, then.”
“Yes, the female healer took care of me. She was efficient and kind.”
