Heir of the Dog Black Dog - Hailey Edwards Page 0,10
as I feared, Mai’s warm brown eyes softened. “How awkward was it?”
“As awkward as you can imagine times two.” I hung my keys on a hook by the door. “We talked. We’ve established boundaries that should prevent any more black marks on either of our records.” I tugged down my ponytail and massaged my aching scalp. “We can make this work.”
“Yes,” she added her support, “you can.”
“We have to.” Might as well put it all out there. “We’re working a case together.”
A slow whistle slipped past her lips. “The magistrates didn’t waste time pairing you back up, did they?”
Magistrates. Right. They didn’t know our breakup was the reason Shaw had transferred.
“It wasn’t official.” I mumbled, “It was voluntary.”
“In that case...” She ducked into the kitchen and returned with two bourbon glasses filled to the brim with smoky liquid. “Tell Auntie Mai all about it.”
I accepted the glass with a grateful nod, took a deep pull of the crisp, fermented drink and sighed as warmth spread through my chest. “Sweet Dreams?”
We plopped down onto the red brocade couch Mai had inherited from an older sister.
“Yep.” She drained her first glass with a hiccup. “Brewed by narcoleptic pixies under a full moon.”
I snorted.
Rumor had it drool from sleeping pixies gave the wine its special properties. I didn’t care. What mattered to me was its subtle sleep enchantment would burn clean through the night—or the day in our case. A few sips took the edge off, weighted your eyes and fuzzed your mind. Tossing back a full glass was like cutting lines and snorting dust straight from Mr. Sandman’s personal stash.
Shifting toward me, Mai poured herself another. “Still waiting here, Tee.”
One more sip to wet my lips, and I spilled the gory details of my day. O’Shea. The poacher. Shaw. I wrapped it all up at the point where I called her to come help me at Mom’s.
“Just remember you’re not a trainee anymore, you’re a full-fledged marshal.” Mai ran a finger along the rim of her glass. “Shaw has seniority, and the conclave bylaws are all in his favor. If you two bump heads—or anything else—you’re the one they’ll reassign this time.”
Coming off a recent transfer, even a voluntary one, meant he was ineligible.
“I know, I know.”
“At least you have romantic drama.” She sank lower into the cushions. “I got nothing.”
“Nothing?” My head jerked toward her. “You’ve gone out every night this week.”
Her eyes went liquid. “He failed the test.” Grabbing my glass, she drained it too.
Fail a kitsune’s test, and you lost her respect. One and done, it was over. No second chances.
“Ouch.” I winced. “I’m sorry. You really liked him, huh?”
“He was a nice guy,” she slurred. “A goblin, but the hot kind.” She wiped the back of her hand across her mouth then fingered her lips like they had gone numb.
“Another goblin?” That made three in as many months. “Labyrinth much?”
She held up three fingers. “Two words—codpiece.”
“That’s one word.” I pried the glass from her hands before she dumped it on the carpet.
Mai had an unholy obsession with eighties fantasy movies. Labyrinth was her favorite. She was madly in lust with David Bowie’s character, Jareth the Goblin King, who was famous for his tight tights, smoldering stares and a very, ahem, generous codpiece.
Her head fell back while she twisted silky chestnut strands of hair around her pinky.
“Goblins are...” She stabbed a finger toward the ceiling. “They’re hot.”
“Uh-huh. Sure they are.” I clapped my hands. “Okay, time for all foxy ladies to go to bed.”
The noise spooked her, and the next thing I knew a heavy-lidded red fox lay curled on top of Mai’s clothes.
Tempted as I was to move her to her own bed, she hated being carried as a fox, and I hated getting bitten even more. Guess she was crashing on the couch. I left her pawing a shirt while she nested.
“Sleep tight,” I called on the way to my bedroom.
The bathroom earned a covetous glance from me as I passed. I ought to shower. I reeked of black magic, troll and worst of all, Shaw. But my feet were on autopilot, and the wine was telling me that my bed sure looked good from here. A shower could wait. First I needed sleep to dull the night’s sharp edges.
My shins hit the mattress, and I flopped face-first onto my bed.
Bump. Bump. Bump.
My eyes closed long enough to burn when I rolled over and opened them to glare at the ceiling. Must be moving day for the