Legs braced apart, I waited for the daemon to reach me, the better to shield Aedan from him.
“Hey.” I snapped my fingers in the daemon’s face. “I’m not a chair. You can’t own me.”
“Rue not chair,” he agreed, baring his teeth over my shoulder at Aedan. “Rue my chair.”
This time I didn’t resist the urge to smack my forehead with my open palm.
“I mean no harm.” Aedan raised his hands on my periphery. “I will leave, if you allow it.”
The daemon took one step, as if to pursue him, but I grabbed him by the hair to hold him back.
“No.” I jerked hard. “Aedan is my guest, the same as you.”
“Not same as me.” He pounded his fist against his chest. “I yours. He not yours.”
“This is better than First Date Bake Off.” Clay rubbed his hands together. “Where’s the popcorn?”
“I will pour steaming kernels down your nostrils in your sleep if you don’t help me.”
Not that Clay slept, exactly, but I wasn’t above erasing his shem to pay him back.
“Hate to break it to you, but he doesn’t listen to me.”
“Aedan, back away slowly.” I twirled the daemon’s hair around my finger. “I’ll distract him.”
“This ought to be good,” Clay muttered under his breath, aware I would hear him.
“Come back to the house,” I coaxed the daemon. “I owe you a brush and braid, remember?”
“I remember.” He snatched me off my feet and into his arms, then he smiled down at me. “Hi, Rue.”
Unable to stop my smile, I let him hold me. “Hi, pain in my butt.”
“Rue like me.” He preened. “Rue like my hair.”
“I do like you, and your hair, but you’re still a pain in the butt.”
The daemon carried me onto the porch, where I kicked Clay in the shoulder hard enough to rock him.
“Help Aedan get back to the creek.” I narrowed my eyes on him. “Or I will substitute salt for sugar in everything I bake for you until your tastebuds give up on life and your tongue crawls out of your mouth to escape.”
“That is, and I say this as a friend, the threat of a deeply disturbed mind.” A shudder rocked him from head to toe. “You win.”
Once I had the daemon through the door, I nudged it shut with my toe. He knew the way to the former home of Hollis Apothecary, and he headed straight for the sink. The portable sink I had disconnected when the girls and I moved the shop to downtown. It was on wheels and connected to a waterline, like the ones installed for washing machines. But, thanks to the daemon’s agreement to act as a guinea pig for a haircare line, I had dusted it off and rolled it back to its former spot in the corner weeks ago.
While I got to work on washing his hair with a lavender-and-chamomile blend shampoo bar, I waited for Clay to report back.
“Smell good.” The daemon gave me two thumbs-up. “Like this one.”
“I’m glad you approve.” I glanced up to find Clay watching us. “Well?”
“I tucked him back in, but we might have a problem.”
“We always have a problem. Usually more than one.” I blew out a sigh. “What is it this time?”
“He’s convinced the dobhar-chú came inland to birth pups. He says it wouldn’t have hunted in town if it hadn’t required an easy meal to feed little mouths.”
“We decided it got dumped,” I reminded him. “Why else would it be so far from water?”