The Flame Game (Magical Romantic Comedies #12) - R.J. Blain Page 0,49

for the rental company to pick him up so he could finalize the rental and bring the vehicle back so we could hit the road. I made his coffee, chuckling at his restless energy. “Be careful driving.”

“I will,” he promised, accepting his travel mug and giving me a kiss. The doorbell rang, and he grabbed his wallet from our coffee table. “This could take up to an hour, but hopefully not that long. If the assholes come back, remember you are a meat-eating, fire-breathing unicorn and act appropriately.”

I translated that to mean I should put on my fur coat for a while and play guard unicorn. “Okay.”

Quinn left, and I went upstairs to grab the stash of grade-A transformatives I kept taped to the bottom of my nightstand. I’d have to order a new stash from the CDC, but the grade-A was easier for me to transform through, and I struggled less reversing back to human. I stripped, folded my clothes and put them in a bag, and swallowed the pill.

Ten minutes later, I carried my bag downstairs in my mouth, set it with the rest of the bags for the trip, and stretched. As there was no reason to not enjoy myself, I sliced open the box of long-burning logs with a claw, picked one up, tossed it into the fireplace, and used my horn to open the flue so I wouldn’t fill the house with smoke.

While I liked it, my husband adamantly did not enjoy my adventures with the fireplace and a closed flue.

I snorted to light the log, settled on my favorite rug, and admired the flames, keeping an eye out the window for anyone suspicious.

Within twenty minutes, most of the cops left, leaving one unmarked car parked across the street with a pair inside, keeping watch on those coming and going. As I’d made a large travel Thermos of coffee, I got up from my spot and grabbed the handle in my mouth, which was positioned on the top specifically so I could carry it while a unicorn, and eased through the house to a window, hitching a lift on a sunbeam to get outside without having to bother with the door. Snorting fire over the chill, I trotted across the street, making use of my claws on the ice to keep from slipping. The cop on the passenger side rolled down his window when I approached, and I thrust the Thermos at him, which he accepted.

“No dust but good coffee,” I told them, giving a swish of my tail. I stomped my hooves to keep warm, and as that worked, I pranced in place and bucked, giving my mane a good shake, too. “Idiot par-rents no un-der-stand I un-nee-corn.”

“Seriously? I’m Troy, and my partner is Lucas, ma’am.” Troy handed the Thermos over to Lucas. “We were asked to stick around until you leave, as our chief seems to think the perps might come back to finish what they started.”

“They are that stupid.” I pricked my ears forward over how well I’d managed to talk despite the cold stabbing away at my fur. “Keep Thermos. It old one. Have new one inside.” We’d just gotten it before I’d gone on my road trip adventure, and it was still in its box. “Give good excuse to get out new one. Odds idiot par-rents coming back to house?”

“Pretty high. They made their attempt in broad daylight, which smacks of general desperation.”

“But why? Makes no sense. I leave them alone? They go away, I happy. Very happy.”

“It’s not uncommon with abusers. They seek revenge when the gig is up, and people like them value their reputation. We’ve been doing groundwork on them as part of the investigation. According to the briefing, they’re part of a somewhat influential vanilla family.”

“Yes. Hate magic, hate magic users. Hate any-thing diff-er-ent from them. Me diff-er-ent.”

“Well, yes. You’re in a class of your own. You need a high rating to qualify for your job.”

“I hate the stupid,” I complained, hanging my head.

Troy reached out of the unmarked car and gave my shoulder a pat. “We all do. It’s so annoying.”

I raised my head, and as Quinn kept telling me the cops liked when meat-eating, fire-breathing unicorns nuzzled them, I bumped his fingers with my nose.

He scratched my forehead below my horn, and I settled in to enjoy the attention.

“That silver car matches the witness description,” Lucas announced.

I cracked open an eye to regard the vehicle coming down the street. Sure enough, my idiot, asshole