to Dohrein and Gracie to see Gracie grinning—and the thing on her lap by the way is a doll. It’s a little winged person. A hob. She’s got her sewing needle stuck in it like a pin. (Like a Voodoo pin; I knew it!) “Congratulations, Isla,” she says. “You’re taming the quarry’s beast.”
My melancholy feelings shed off of me like I’ve unzipped a suit. “He gardens rocks instead of roses, but he so is the beast!” I clap my leg happily and open my arms up for Jonoh to give me a congratulatory hug.
Jonohkada declines with a decisive shake of his head. “No—I thank you for the offer of a platonic friendship-reinforcement touch, but the next time your Rakhii greets you, I don’t want you scenting of me.”
Dohrein’s eyes narrow thoughtfully and he makes a note on his tablet.
I clap my hand to my forehead, almost slumping in relief at the scenario Jonoh’s words conjure. “Oh, man, I love that you call him my Rakhii. Now here’s to hoping he still wants to be mine.” I turn to the rest of the room. “Okay, team, thanks. I’m feeling loads better.” I look to Laura. “But we still get ice cream, right?”
Crispin shifts his weight and looks over his shoulder at his woman. She pops a kiss on the side of his face before she grins at me. “We still get ice cream.” She winks at her man. “With dead fish finger pie.”
“Count me out of whatever that is,” I tell them. “And show me where the frozen sugar’s at.”
Dohrein’s voice is his version of enthusiastic. “There is an ice cream stage of healing, how fascinating.” Tap, tap, tap goes his tablet.
Mandi rolls her eyes and gets more comfortable on her couch. It draws my eye. And then she has all of my attention. Because what she doesn’t know is her cat has left his corner, and he’s peering over the couch back, staring down at her like a predator. Like, well? Like a cat watches a mouse.
I grin.
Gracie doesn’t spare them a glance. She waves to get my attention. “Yo, come over here.” She pats the sofa cushion opposite Dohrein’s side of her body.
Dutifully, I flop down next to her. Then I snatch her doll from her and hold it up as I lean around her belly and give Dohrein a mock wince. “Do you feel any pain in your ribs?”
His eyes drift down to the doll, then back up to me, his face plainly confused but also intrigued. “I do not. Why?”
He’s still holding his tablet and pen. He’s so going to write this down. “Because this,” I shake the doll by the wing, “is what practitioners of dark, dark magic use when they want to punish the object of their attentions.”
Gracie pinches me on the arm. I yelp and drop the doll.
Gracie catches it, cradling it in her hands. “It’s not a Voodoo doll, you numpty.”
Jonohkada appears as curious as Dohrein. He sinks back down to the floor, folding his long legs crisscross-style. But he’s careful to look to Dohrein for permission before he reaches out and asks Gracie if he can examine the doll up close. Gracie huffs in her mate’s direction before he can give verbal permission (he does nod though) and hands it to Jonoh.
“What is a Voodoo doll?” Dohrein asks, tapping his tablet.
“It’s a doll that’s bespelled so that whatever damage you deal to it, the human likeness experiences the same damage,” I explain.
Dohrein lifts his head from his tablet, and he looks to his wife.
Gracie growls and snatches back her doll. “It’s not Dohrein! It’s Jonohkada!”
It’s not immediately apparent from Dohrein’s expression whether he’s feeling relieved or usurped to learn he isn’t the recipient of his mate’s dangerous attentions.
Jonohkada looks confused. His fingers are still held aloft where he was cradling the snatched Voodoo doll. “You made a doll of punishment in my likeness?”
Dohrein releases a puff of breath that I realize is very quiet laughter. He takes the doll from Gracie and holds it up for Angie and Arokh to see. “I feel compelled to test this. Would you care to singe this for me? Just an edge or two. For science.”
“Stop saying that,” Gracie warns.
Arokh’s hand strokes through Angie’s hair, making her eyes close in bliss. When he reaches her nape, he clamps her neck possessively, his alien eyes glittering as he smirks at Dohrein. “Only if the doll is you.”
“Ooooh,” I goad, chuckling.
Dohrein tips his head to him, smiling good-naturedly.