On that depressing note, I hoped for good news on some front. “Did the backup make it safely?”
“They’re at the hotel. Three teams. A fourth is en route.” He paused. “There were a lot of bodies.”
That sparked an excellent question. “Where are we?”
“At the hotel nearest our previous one. I checked us in and kept watch over you and Colby while Clay waited for the cavalry to arrive.”
Alrighty then, so maybe I shouldn’t use the word spark in context to our room, even in my head. “Where does that leave us?”
“Our job here is done.” He smiled at my surprise. “We followed our orders to the letter.”
But the case was far from closed, and we both knew it. The Proctor grimoire had a following, apparently.
“We hunted the zombigo, put it down.” He laid it out as he would in our report. “Access to the body allowed us to confirm it was a reanimated corpse. We tracked down its maker, a black witch, and the confrontation ended with her death, as well as that of her cohorts, and their creations.”
Neat and tidy, on paper, but the director would expect a full accounting. “What’s the official line?”
“Melissa arranged a coup, which happens every few decades, and she failed.”
“And if the director asks why an entire team went rogue?”
“Then we tell him the truth, but not everything. They wanted more power, and to be free.”
“The fae in you pops up at the most unexpected times.” I don’t know why I did it, but I tore off a piece of donut and tossed it at him, laughing when he caught it in his mouth. “It sounds like you’ve got it figured out.”
“Not all of it.” He caught another piece, cementing my new favorite game. “We still need to determine what Nolan Laurens was doing at your house.”
Last I checked, he was still there, camped out on my land like he had a right to be there.
“Agreed.” I cackled with glee when he caught another. “That’s a problem for Samford.”
A quick review of my cameras proved Nolan hadn’t budged an inch since the last time I looked in on him.
Sadly, that meant I was holding my cell when a notification flashed to warn me the director was calling.
Enjoy your all-expenses-paid vacation straight to my voicemail, Gramps.
“You’re not worried he’s a zombie too?”
“Zombies don’t howl and clutch their butts when they get shot. He’s alive. Maybe a masque, but alive.”
David Taylor had worn other people’s faces to conceal his identity, meaning Nolan might not be Nolan. He might be another member of the rogue coven, one who got stationed at my home to hedge their bets.
All the same, I prayed to the gods and goddesses that had forsaken me that Nolan was himself. That there was a reasonable explanation for his actions, and an association with me wasn’t about to cost the girls more than they had already paid for their friendship with me.
“We’re almost done here.” He stole the donut, pinched off a bite, and tossed it at me. “Maybe four more hours, and this case will be officially closed.” He chuckled when I missed. “We can go home.”
Home.
The emphasis on the word caused me to miss his second throw too, though, let’s be honest. I wasn’t going to catch it. I was never going to be one of those people who could toss popcorn in the air and ring their open mouth with it. Donuts appeared to be doomed to the same fate.
Careful not to place any emphasis on the word, I dusted crumbs out of my hair. “Home?”
“Samford for you.” He rolled a shoulder. “A hotel for us.”
“You could always stay with me. Us. You and Clay,” I blurted, then cursed my impulsivity. “If you want.”
“You wouldn’t mind having two houseguests underfoot?”