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Even for me, that’s ridiculous, but I’m not telling him that.
CHAPTERTWO
Micah
This can’t be real.I’m being pranked—that must be it. Garrett and his cousin are pulling one of those pranks hellhounds love so much. I’ve heard about them, even if I haven’t been around hellhounds enough to have been the victim of one before. Maybe the humans across the street who look like they eat their own young for funsies are also in on it.
Because the expert who specializes in mechanical puzzles—who’s going to solve the incredibly intricate feat of design and engineering that my cousins and I discovered last month—cannot possibly be the same guy who seems incapable of walking down the street without hurting himself or leaving a trail of belongings behind him.
Except he definitely is.
Sighing, I drag his heavy-as-a-pile-of-rocks suitcase down his front steps and gesture for him to lead the way. “I’m Micah, by the way. Micah Bailey.”
He stops so suddenly, I nearly run into him, then spins around, the overnight bag on his shoulder tumbling to the ground as he holds out his hand. “Nice to meet you! Thanks so much for coming to get me. I’ve never traveled this way before, but it’s got to be better than endless hours on a plane.” He wrinkles his nose, and I can’t say I blame him. I’ve never been on a plane before—why would I?—but the thought of being enclosed in a metal tube with hundreds of other people and recycled air for hours… well, it doesn’t sound fun. Teleporting is clearly the best form of transport.
Although recently I learned that some of the elves can use portals for travel that are just like a doorway. So whileIstill prefer teleportation, non-demons who get teleport sickness might prefer that.
Speaking of… “Has anyone mentioned that you might feel a little sick after?” I give him a nudge to get him moving again. His neighbors are watching us, and I’m not sure how much his tools are worth, but I’m not in the mood to fight anyone off to protect them.
He makes a humming sound. “Maybe? I think I read something about it online. How does it work?”
I shrug. “Not everyone feels it, so you might be one of the lucky ones. But some people feel nauseous and dizzy—just like regular travel sickness. It usually passes fairly quickly.” Unless he’s one of the really unlucky ones who feels sick for hours. That’s rare, though.
“I can handle that,” he says confidently. “Are we going straight to the cave?”
Uh… “You don’t want to see where you’ll be staying and settle in first?” The town council wants to meet him, too, but not until tomorrow morning. It might be only midmorning here in Boston, but in Hortplatz it’s already late afternoon, and everyone figured he’d want the evening to orient himself to the house we’ve got him in, maybe make a shopping list and walk around town. Sure, it’s dark and cold and probably snowing again, if Zac’s prediction was right, but it’s February in Hortplatz, so that’s what most days are like.
He shakes his head. “It has a bed, right? Or… somewhere to sleep?”
I look around for the person with the hidden camera, but there’s nobody. “It has a bed,” I confirm. “A very nice king-sized one with pillow-top mattress.” The house is small, with only two bedrooms and a combined living-dining-kitchen area, but it’s fresh and comfortable and only a block from the center of town. I designed it specifically for singles or couples without kids who wanted low-maintenance and proximity to action… such as it is in Hortplatz.
“That’s all I need. I’ll be spending all my awake time in the cave anyway.”
I really hope he means that he sleeps for fourteen hours, because as the person who’s been assigned to transport him back and forth and stay with him while he’s there, I’m not prepared to sit in a cold cave for more than ten hours a day. I make a noncommittal noise. We can talk about this later. Maybe he’ll get severely teleport sick, and we’ll need to work out a different plan anyway.
“I guess we can go straight to the cave,” I concede. “But only for a little while. I have some stuff to do tonight.”
“Oh, you can just leave me there. I can make my own way back to the village. I assume it’s signposted?”
It’s my turn to stop dead, and when he doesn’t notice, I reach out and snag his sleeve before he can take more than two steps. He turns around and blinks at me. “What? Was I about to trip?” Looking down, he turns in a full circle. “I don’t see anything.”
“Is this a test?” I ask, unable to resist. “Did someone pay you to do this?”
Cam frowns, and if he’s not actually confused, he’s a hell of a good actor. “No? I mean… am I getting paid for this? I don’t remember if Alistair said.”
I pounce on that. Alistair is my cousin Asher’s husband’s cousin, and he’s notorious for fuckery. This is definitely the kind of thing he’d do. “So Alistair put you up to this? It’s fine—I can take a joke.” I force a big smile, the kind even a non-demon would see. We demons have higher muscle density than other species—we need it to be able to teleport and stay healthy—and that means that our facial expressions are a lot more subtle than everyone else’s. It's led to people thinking we’re all grumps, since they can’t always see when we’re smiling or happy. As a result, most adult demons exaggerate things like smiles when we’re around other species.
From the way Cam’s eyes widen and he steps back, my smile might not have been the cheery kind.
“You have a lot of teeth,” he whispers.
Okay. Toning it down. “Sorry. Uh… it’s all good if Alistair’s trying to prank me. You can tell him you got me. But—”
“Alistair’s trying to prank you? How?” He looks around. “Is he here? I haven’t seen him in forever.” He frowns. “Or maybe it was last year? When did I make the puzzle that started out as a box but looked like a slice of cake when it was solved?”
How the fuck am I supposed to know that? Also, the puzzle thatwhat? “We might be talking at cross-purposes,” I admit. It’s possible he’s not pranking me. Or if he is, he’s incredibly talented and deserves to see me make an idiot of myself. “Did Alistair ask you to play a joke on me? Or did anyone?” Because this is the kind of thing my cousins might do, too.
Cam shakes his head fiercely. “Not that I remember.”
