The Flame Game (Magical Romantic Comedies #12) - R.J. Blain Page 0,80
all he had left. But yes. The money their father paid will find its way back to his children, for we knew even then he would not live long beyond their survival.”
Oh. “But you, as in your fellow angel who saved them, couldn’t say that. So you took the money knowing what would inevitably come?”
“Yes. Please do not cry, for it will alarm your husband, who does not handle such things well.”
“He really doesn’t.” I sighed, double checking the hoods on her serpents, her blindfold, and doing a full inspection of her statue to make sure there was nothing else wrong with her. “Alan?”
“Yes?”
“What’s the best grade pixie dust you have on you?”
“We have the good stuff.”
“Give me a vial and make sure everyone stays out of the way. If she’s too happy to see straight, she’ll be a lot less likely to harm anybody. You should get lesser grades for the rest of the victims, too. We may as well make this as pleasant as possible.”
“That ploy will work well,” the archangel stated.
I tapped my temple. “Sometimes, I remember I have a brain and decide to use it.”
Alan headed off for his van at a jog.
My husband sighed. “I’m going to the SUV until you’re done. Make sure they decontaminate you thoroughly. The last thing you need right now is me on a pixie dust high.”
“Wait. What? No. You take that back, you fiend. I absolutely do need you on a pixie dust high.”
The archangel’s laughter chimed. “However much I like your grandfather, I am siding with your wife on this one. She is very deserving of you, should you be under the influence.”
I smirked. “See? Even the archangel agrees with me.”
Muttering curses, my husband stomped off towards our rental.
“He’s just mad because it’s a felony, no matter how much he’d enjoy me committing a felony tonight. Really, Sariel got to him a little too young, making him such a goody-goody. It’s just a little felony!” I hollered at my husband’s departing back.
Alan returned carrying a metal case, which he handed to me. “It’s not a felony if someone in the CDC gives you the sample for your use. Since you didn’t go on a napalm bender and did such a good job with the dust removal, I see no reason I can’t slip you a vial of some dust so you can enjoy your husband’s company tonight. I’ll give you one grade below the best, so he might stand half a chance of remembering it in the morning.”
Hah. “You and I are going to get along just great.”
“They told me you were difficult. I suggested they just failed to speak your language. I figured a reward system might work, and considering your husband’s special genetics? I could be talked into adding a line to your file that you’re highly motivated into being able to use samples of high-grade pixie dust on your spouse in recreational fashions following testy work like dust removal to limit the consequences of your exposure to napalm.”
“Hold that thought.” I took the case, popped it open, and whistled at the selection of dust samples available. The vials of the top-grade dust alone could enslave the entirety of a football stadium. “Damn, they sent you over here prepared, Alan.”
“I have another case just like it locked in the van, and I also have sedatives and ambrosia in case they’re required. We will not discuss the phoenix feathers we brought just in case.”
“It’s like the CDC learned from its mistakes. I’m impressed.” The last thing I needed was to set loose another phoenix and be responsible for more mass destruction. For some reason, where I went, things became either irrevocably broken or lit on fire. I plucked out one of the highest grade vials, giving it a shake to check on the pixie dust’s consistency, which matched my expectations. “How close to the moon am I sending this gorgon?”
“All the way there. That’s fresh from one of our most potent contacts, made this week.”
I whistled, as even trace amounts of the dust would be enough to enslave somebody—or turn my husband into a sex fiend. “I’ll just keep the empty vial for my amusements tonight if this stuff is that fresh. That little should make him able to remember it. Maybe.”
“I’ll make sure you have the right neutralizer on hand so you can keep your husband somewhat contained.”
I smirked, observing my husband open the SUV door to be pounced upon by a wolf, a husky, and