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“It’s fine.”
“What happened last night?” Nox asked gently, offering Nelson a plate of fruit, slices of cheese, and grainy, seedy pieces of toast slathered with some sort of nut butter and drizzled with honey. “You looked like you were ready to crash.”
Nelson nodded as he took the plate and dropped onto one of the stools at the long wooden work table. The kitchen was cheerful and cozy, compared to the frantic heat of the dream. He focused on the dense, earthy sweetness of the toast, not wanting to examine how his body had come to be covered in bite marks and scratches overnight.
“Is this smoked gouda?” He liked how the cheese tasted with the honey and seeds that had fallen off the toast.
“Yes. What happened, Nelson? You’re scaring me.” Nox rested his forearms on the table, squinting at Nelson over his coffee.
“Let’s just say I know where my root chakra is now,” he muttered before chomping on a slice of bread and probably almond butter.
“Oh!” Nox straightened and blinked at Nelson. “Was it me again? Did I…?”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” Nelson replied, but widened his eyes so Nox understood that he was feeling a bit violated.
“Oh.” That was followed by a heavy frown. “I’m sorry. I… You know I would never—”
“You didn’t,” Nelson stated and hoped that was enough to end the discussion.
“Hmmm. Did you…learn anything?” Nox grabbed Nelson’s arm when he tried to leave. “Anything that might be helpful to the case,” he clarified.
Nelson relaxed slightly and nodded. “I want those shoe prints. I want them from every person who was up there and I want techs to do scrapings and get samples from their treads.”
“What will that tell us?” Nox asked in a hushed whisper, leaning closer. Once again, his soft blue eyes glittered with excitement and Nelson swore he saw quick flashes of gold.
“Uh…” Nelson’s cheeks puffed out as he dismissed what he’d seen and refocused. “We can make a timeline of who was where and when once we know whose prints are whose and look at what they stepped on.”
“That’s brilliant,” Nox panted, looking dizzy as he stretched toward Nelson. “If someone has vervain or juniper in their treads, they were there for the ritual.”
“Right.” Nelson nodded, staring at Nox’s lips. He swayed closer and the faint pounding that had lingered from his dreams faded. “It’s quiet again,” he sighed in relief.
“What do you—?” Nox started, but Nelson’s phone vibrated loudly in his trousers pocket and startled them.
He pulled it out and Nelson’s soul puckered when he saw Felton’s number. He’d hoped for more time and more concrete evidence before he had to explain and defend his actions. “I have to go to the Hoover Building.”
“It’s gonna be fine,” Nox said with a cheerful punch to Nelson’s shoulder. “I’ll get ready and go with you.”
“Fine.”
Despite Nox’s upbeat chatter during the fifteen-minute drive, Nelson wasn’t feeling confident when he parked the Continental and pulled on his coat. He had a terrible sinking feeling in his gut that the whole thing was about to slip through his fingers.
Nelson kept his head down as he strode through the lobby to the bank of elevators, ignoring the suggestive coughs and whispers. It was Sunday and Nelson was glad there were only a few agents and administrative personnel milling around as he pressed a call button and waited with Nox at his side.
They made a ridiculous pair, Nelson suspected. Nox was wearing a leather jacket, black jeans, and a Ramones T-shirt. His hair was taller and spikier today and the liner around his eyes was even thicker. Nelson wondered if Nox had done it to appear more intimidating.
It was working, judging from the way two older, senior agents cowered away from them in the elevator. To them, Nox was a disruptive anomaly. He didn’t wear their uniform or follow their rules. In fact, he had the ability to upend the bureaucratic order and Nox had no respect for authority.
Nelson thought Nox looked fine. He on the other hand… Nelson gave his tie a tug to make sure it was straight and glanced down at his suit and shoes. He always had a few clean suits from the dry cleaner in the trunk and Nox had done a load of laundry. Nelson was wearing fresh underwear and had shaved, but none of it had helped. He felt flimsy and out of order when the elevator bounced to a halt and the doors opened.
“He’s waiting for you,” Felton’s assistant murmured. Her eyes remained on her computer’s screen as she typed. Nelson didn’t know her name because she never had the time or cared enough to make small talk.
“Thank you,” he replied softly and went to tap on the cracked office door.
“Get in here!” Felton barked. He was standing with his hands on his hips when Nelson sidestepped into the room with Nox. “Good…” Felton nodded, his lip curled into a sneer as he glared at Nox. “I’m glad you brought him with you. Sit down,” he ordered and pointed at the chairs in front of his desk.
Nelson hurried around the one on the right and sat obediently while Nox pushed out a belligerent snort and wandered over. He took a moment to scan the photos and framed awards behind Felton before dropping into the other seat, then stretched and crossed his black Converse.
Felton muttered an expletive as he yanked back his chair and sat. “It’s Sunday and I had a tee time with the secretary of defense. I was on my way to the club when I got a call from the Roanoke ME.” He held up a file, causing Nox to sit up straight.
