False Gods (Sins of the Father 2)

“Hi, Beatrice,” Florian practically mumbled.

Ah. See, now that, that was one thing that had definitely changed. So very noticeably, too. I wondered why Florian’s approach had shifted so much. The first time he and Beatrice met he’d been the very picture of charm, flirting with her so hard and entrancing her so fixedly that she wouldn’t have budged if a swarm of fashion-starved looters had ripped through the store to wipe out her entire stock.

My eyes flitted between the two of them as I allowed a few more moments of silence. I thought I was helping, but I could actually tell that Florian was squirming under Beatrice’s sticky, icky gaze. What the hell was going on? He was supposed to be our bargaining chip.

Don’t look at me like that. Remember that time I told Florian he’d have to sell his body to help our cause? I was only half joking.

“So Beatrice,” I said, breaking the tense silence. “Love what you’ve done with the place.”

Her lashes twitched oh-so-subtly at the sound of my voice, and she narrowed her eyes as she turned to regard me, like I was a pile of garbage blocking her view of the sunset.

“What? Oh, that.” She flipped her hair, using the same hand to make a grand flourish around the store. “I’m updating my product line. Why stick to fabrics, you know? Leather goods are lovely.” She steepled her fingers together and grinned. “They can command hefty prices, too.”

“I mean, nothing wrong with diversifying,” I said, stepping over to one of the less dangerous looking handbags. Why anyone would want to own a purse that hissed and bared fangs at you was anybody’s guess. “That’s how it works, I suppose. Gotta charge what you’re worth, build your brand, because it’s all about selling your talent.”

I figured a little healthy dose of sucking up couldn’t hurt too much, especially if Florian was leaving me to fly solo, and I was right. Beatrice batted her eyelashes at me and made the friendliest smile I’d seen on her since we walked in.

“Color me surprised, but okay, you definitely get it, Mason.” She placed a hand on her chest, shutting her eyes and lifting her nose for full, snobbish effect. “I offer top quality goods that also happen to be exquisitely enchanted, and on top of that – ”

“Holy shit,” I cried out. I’d just flipped over one of the price tags on a pink leather bag. Beatrice’s face screwed up with displeasure, and any good will I thought I’d built up went straight down the toilet. I couldn’t help myself. “Nine hundred dollars? For this thing?”

Beatrice folded her arms, shook her head away from me, and harrumphed. “That thing is crafted from the finest stuff. The very finest. Genuine dragonskin, to contain its extremely potent and extremely powerful enchantment. I have to pay for raw materials, hello? Plus I have to pay my partner. I mean, hello?”

My eyes connected with Florian’s for a moment. He looked even more anxious and crestfallen than ever. “Sorry,” I said. “Partner?”

“That’s right. My business partner.”

The way Florian sighed in relief, you would have thought that he’d just discovered oxygen for the very first time.

“This entire line is a collaboration,” Beatrice continued. “I don’t know the first thing about tanning or leatherworking, but if you want someone who can make a wallet that’ll bite your fingers off, then I’m your girl.”

“Who would want – ”

“And besides, maybe this’ll lead to you getting something a little more practical than a magical jockstrap,” she said, leering at me, going full Beatrice, all the friendliness and charm in her lips replaced by a wicked, curved smile. “Maybe we can make you a harness instead.”

I cocked an eyebrow. “What’s with you and dressing me up in really lewd hypotheticals?” I smirked back, mirroring her expression and using her best weapon against her. “You like picturing me that way?” I said, leaning on the counter, flexing for her benefit. “Got a little crush, Beatrice?”

Beatrice Rex flushed bright red, from her neck to the tips of her ears. If she was blushing from anger or embarrassment, I would probably never know. All I cared about was the satisfaction I got from stopping her right in her bratty tracks. But the blood drained from her face as she regained her composure, and she tucked her hair behind her ear, smiling smugly to herself. Uh-oh. I didn’t like that look at all.

“Speaking of dressing you up,” she said, resting her chin in her hand, her elbow planted lazily on the counter. “There. That’s the bag I’m lending you boys.”

I followed her finger to the exact same bag that she’d pointed out, a little leather cylinder with a couple of loops dyed in the prettiest, perkiest pink the world has ever seen.

“You’re joking,” I said.

“Nope. Take it or leave it. I’m not letting you borrow any of the others in the dimensional storage line. Too much risk for me.”

“We’ll take it,” Florian said, an eager, simpering smile on his face.

I glared at him. Beatrice gave me a grin as evil as the Devil himself.

“What’s the matter, Mason?” she purred. “Don’t tell me you’re afraid of wearing a little pink. It’s not like I’m trying to embarrass you or anything.” She flipped her hair and tittered. “Not very much.”

“I can carry it,” Florian said, brushing past me, obviously in some sort of rush to get out of the store and far away from Beatrice.

“No, I’ll take it,” I said, threading my fingers through the handles, testing its weight in my grasp. It was very light, really, despite all of the gaudy metal clasps Beatrice had slapped on for ornamentation. I dropped my wallet in, then my cellphone, pursing my lips in appreciation when the bag’s weight didn’t change. “Not bad. Nicely done, Beatrice.”

She frowned at me, clearly annoyed that I wasn’t very bothered about having to go around town toting a pink – well, tote. “Then why were you making such a fuss out of not wanting to carry the thing in the first place?”