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“It’s chilly for a human, anyway,” Steve replies, trying to point behind us to his car in my driveway. “Let’s go back for my sweater vest!”
“Awesome!” I yell, pretending I misheard him. “Glad you’re feeling so hashtag blessed!”
Steve’s usefulness is directly proportionate to his beta-ness. The mortal is a quality handyman as well as a landscaper. Hislack of fear when approaching me started off as an annoyance, though it slowly grew into a type of adversarial respect.
He knows I could crush him. He’s seen the way I react when someone accidentally drives down my private road. And still, still he rambles on about his doctor-daughter and reporter son. A reporter who works with Cyella.
“When! When! When!” he cries, like I’m pouring milk for his cereal or something.
I slow down and get lower, taking Steve on a route overlooking the grove of trees at the edge of my property.
“Ooooh!” he cries, and I’m glad he’s getting into it.
I make a few loops and spins to sweeten my side of the bargain, which I regret as soon as I realize his raucous cheers are actually pleas for help. We land in the middle of the grove, where I’m forced to drop him or risk breaking his arms with my grip. Who knew a man so lanky could have such powerful flailing legs?
“I get seasick easily!” He coughs, landing on the ground with a thud.
“I’ll be right back with a coat,” I say, taking off before he can interject.
“Make that a blanket!” he screams, and the only reason I agree is because I still have a mission to complete.
The flight back to the house is too quick to feel freeing, and the flight back to Steve clutching a comforter in my arms is even less so.
“Apologies for the flips,” I say, handing him the blanket.
“Better than not crossing it off the bucket list at all,” he says, wrapping himself in the comforter like a burrito. “Now I can say I get sea and sky sick!”
“Hold on.” I get a grip on both ends of the blanket, only realizing when I’m in the air that it probably looks like I’m disposing of a dead body.
As soon as I land again and unroll Steve, I get to business. I need Steve’s son to look into what Cyella was doing out of town. They’re co-workers. The reporter-son’s got to know something.
The last time she was vague with Greiko, she ended up sleeping alone for a week. Her incessant need to cover the most dangerous stories has never sat well with him. Can I get lucky enough to find something I can use, something she won’t want him to know?
“Thanks again!” Steve says, shivering in the seat of his idling pickup.
“Don’t forget to lock the gate!” I add a wave to be nice as I shut the door and return to my other problem. No missing calls from her. Is it time to rethink my options?
My phone buzzes in my hand, and I grin at the screen. Finally.
“Felicity,” I begin. “How are you?”
“Yeah, Argoss, hi, I…” Her words trail off and I decide to finish them.
“Am calling about my offer?” I finish.
She hesitates a moment, and I realize I’m holding my breath. “If it’s still on the table, yeah.”
8
FELICITY
Ican’t believe I’m doing this. I’m actually going to agree to marry Argoss. Ever since Argoss’ last visit, Lucy has been unusually quiet and sullen. The normally vibrant kid immediately went to her room and didn’t come down, not even when I called everyone to the kitchen for popsicles.
So after the last sticky face was washed that night, I knocked on her bedroom door to check in.
“Lucy? Can I come in?”
“Yeah,” came a sharp voice on the other side.
