infect so many people, and we’re onto them. They function the same as the coven, albeit as expendable henchmen, so their existence never made sense to me. Why invest the time and expense in creating something so similar to themselves? But get a dozen of the roaches mature enough to drool into vials, and you’ve got yourself a bottomless supply of a weaponized drug.”
“They really hate gwyllgi.” I called us a Swyft to the Faraday. “There’s got to be more to it than this.”
“There always is,” he said solemnly. “No matter how good you are, there’s always something you miss.”
What a pleasant thought to start our night. Talk about your high notes. A great pep-talker was Bishop.
Once, Abbott had lamented to me the infirmary in the building’s subbasement was as pristine as the day construction ended. Thanks to the coven kicking our butts on the regular, he didn’t have that problem these days. I, for instance, might as well move a few personal items into a room as much time as I spent there.
When he wasn’t patching boo-boos, he was developing a test to determine whether packmates who had fallen under suspicion of coven tampering had been killed for their identity or used as a host for Martian Roaches. I wasn’t sure if he was leaning more toward the magical or scientific approach, but I had put in a call to an authority on both to give him a hand.
Doughty was a witch by birth and a forensic analyst by trade. He was brilliant, and he was expensive, but if ever we needed those two disciplines married, it was now. We had to identify any coven members who had infiltrated our ranks and capture them. We had to isolate anyone infected by Martian Roaches and pray Abbott worked out a cure and fast. And, for extra fun, now we required an antidote for Faete.
Abbott was good, but he couldn’t do it all alone, and not on a timeline that would save the teens already in distress. I had loaned him Reece, but we needed results yesterday, and I was more than happy to pay to get them.
Hank stood watch at the door, and I swear I heard him groan when he spotted me.
“Hiya, friend.” I skipped up to him. “Did you miss me?”
A long exhale parted his lips. “You were gone?”
“Hadley, stop harassing the man.” Bishop gave me a shove toward the lobby. “Let him do his job.”
Hank smiled at Bishop—actually smiled, like a normal person.
Or like a smug jerk who enjoyed me getting called on my shenanigans.
“To be continued,” I warned Hank on my way in.
“I hope not,” he muttered at my back.
“How are you going to lead these people if you pester them within an inch of their lives?” Bishop kept pace with me to the elevators. “You should work on inspiring loyalty, not annoyance.”
“Leading these people is Midas’s job, not mine.” I mashed the button marked with a red medical symbol I had assumed, until recently, was an emergency call button if the elevator got stuck. “Why does everyone take Hank’s side?”
“Hank does his job and doesn’t talk smack. That’s why.”
After the doors shut behind us, I glared at him. “And don’t think I didn’t notice you hinting at me.”
“Midas is courting you.” Bishop’s smirk gleamed on the silvery walls. “What do you think happens after courtship ends?”
“I don’t get crowned High Queen Alpha of the Atlanta Gwyllgi.” I glowered at my own reflection. “Wait.” A shot of panic hit my bloodstream. “Do I?”
“Midas won’t be alpha until Tisdale steps down, so no. But you would be co-beta for all intents and purposes.”
“I’m already co-potentate.” I made a round shape with my hands. “My plate, she is full.”
“Either you accept him, or you rebuke him. Rebuke him, and it’s done.”
“Ugh.” I thumped the back of my head on the wall. “I make a lifetime commitment, or I lose him?”
“Pretty much.”
“That sucks.”
Shrugging, he repeated himself. “Pretty much.”
The doors opened onto the infirmary, and we went in search of Abbott.
Meant to accommodate various species, the space was much larger than I had been expecting the first time I saw it. More advanced too. It was basically a mini hospital. How it had sat neglected for so long boggled the mind. Unless you had witnessed firsthand the gwyllgi tendency to require house calls for emergency treatment.
“Bishop, Hadley.” A young woman dressed in scrubs found us first. “Abbott is waiting on you.”