wrinkled. “Zav?”
“No, Dob. Zav went home.”
“I do not wish you to be killed, Val,” Nin said gravely.
“Thank you. I’d prefer to avoid it too.”
“You are one of my best customers. You go through ammunition like candy corn in a bowl at Halloween.”
“So it’s true love that has spurred your concern for me.”
She grinned, then smiled shyly at Dimitri. She was probably appreciative that he’d been helping her fix her truck. I wondered if Dimitri had explained yet that he was into guys. And tigers. Though his interest in those was probably platonic—and shared by many. Sindari had strolled over to sit between them, his head level with their heads, and Dimitri was absently running a hand down his furry back while Nin rubbed his ears. Sindari’s tongue lolled out slightly, a blissful expression on his face.
“What are you doing, Sindari?” I asked.
Sitting regally and politely allowing your human allies to touch me, as would be proper for an ambassador of Del’noth sent to foster peace among our peoples.
“Your tongue is hanging out.”
Regally.
“Does he talk back to you?” Nin asked curiously.
“Yes, telepathically.”
“Does he mind having his ears rubbed?”
Sindari leaned his head toward her.
“I highly doubt it. Just don’t turn your back on him. Sometimes, his predator urges kick in and he has to pounce.”
I assume I will be permitted to pounce on those obnoxious panthers tomorrow, Sindari told me.
Absolutely.
“I do not know of any formulas that would specifically target felines.” Zoltan had opened an ancient tome and was flipping through it. “There are a number of human chemical substances, such as antifreeze and insect and rodent bait, that can cause seizures and death in cats if they lick it off their paws.”
“I don’t think I can get panther shifters to lick their paws for me. I was thinking more of an aerosol.”
“Hm.”
Time to move on to the next request. “Dimitri, if I give you some money, can you make some projectile yard art that spits poisoned darts?”
“Projectile yard art?” He arched his brows.
“Whatever I need to call it to put it in your wheelhouse and make you interested in working on it.”
“I’m not sure how much I can get done by tomorrow, but I’ll see what I can come up with. You don’t need to pay me. I’m here to help Nin. Er, wait. You probably need to give me enough money to get some good parts. The campground I’m staying at is expensive, so I’ve almost gone through what I made at the farmers market already.”
“Why don’t you stay in a hotel?” Nin asked.
“Hotels are more expensive.”
“You can sleep on my couch if you want,” I said.
“Didn’t you say your apartment got broken into again?”
“And ransacked, yes, with bone knives left sticking into things. But the inoffensive couch was not targeted.”
“I’ll keep your offer in mind.”
“And, yes, I’ll pay for any parts you need.”
“It must be nice being rich,” Dimitri said wistfully.
Rich, right. I wasn’t getting paid for this, and there was no way I’d be able to complete the dragon-slaying gig and earn the big money Willard had teased me with.
My phone alerted me to a new text. Confirmation of a job accepted.
“Nin, I mentioned that I could use some loaner weapons. I’ve just finalized another part of my distraction. Some toughs are going to park in front of the Pardus house and shoot any shifters that run out—and maybe put a few rounds in the front door for decoration. It would be nice if they had bullets that could bite into shifter hide.”
“Yes, of course.”
“What toughs will you hire?” Dimitri asked.
“Why, do you want to volunteer?”
“I’m an artist, Val.”
“Too bad. That sliding door on your van would be great for drive-by shootings.”
“Is it okay to find it strange that you’ve considered this?”
“I can’t help it that I’ve been the target of frequent drive-by shootings. Gregor’s Gang over in West Seattle is who I’ve hired to come up north for this. They’re werewolves. They won’t risk themselves or feel any loyalty to me—” when I’d contacted them, I’d done it anonymously and offered to pay in cash, “—but for enough money, they’re happy to arrive en masse and shoot up an establishment.”
“I see you also agree that it must be downgraded from a compound,” Zoltan murmured, flipping the pages in his book.
“Don’t werewolves hate you?” Dimitri asked.
“That’s why I’m not telling them who’s paying for the job.”
“You don’t think they’ll figure it out when they arrive and see you there?”
“Nobody’s going to see me.” I tapped my cloaking charm.