Black Wings, Gray Skies (Black Hat Bureau 4)

“—but I don’t do feelings, I do what feels good.”

Oh, how I regretted starting this conversation. For so many reasons. Most of which revolved around Asa having a front row seat for a discussion on how little I cared about sex, how rarely I’d had it, and my lack of interest in it—and relationships—overall. Not exactly the endorsement you want when you’re looking to seduce a partner.

Against all odds, Asa slid his hand into mine where they fisted on my lap.

Maybe he thought mutual inexperience was a good thing. Or maybe he figured if I knew the basic mechanics that we could puzzle out the rest together. That, or he felt sorry for me.

Right about now, I know I felt sorry for me.

Emotions were stupid, and you shouldn’t have to involve them in every single decision of your life.

The three of us called a silent truce, Clay and I licking our wounds, and no one said another word until we arrived at the beach.

* * *

The Vandenburghs were leaning against their cruiser, deep in conversation, when we arrived.

“Afternoon.” Mr. Officer smiled at us, professional to a T. “The remains are this way.”

Mrs. Officer nodded, but she kept her mouth shut as if she was afraid what might fall out of it next.

We walked about five minutes before I spotted wooden stakes driven into the sand and wrapped in the familiar yellow of crime scene tape. Inside the square, small bones rested in a jumble.

“The remains were in the water too long for me to pick up any traces of black magic.” Mrs. Officer, comfortable talking about work, led the conversation. “I was hoping one of you could confirm it.”

Of the three of us, only one of us had any hope of identifying a scent a warg nose couldn’t parse.

“Is the beach secure?” I scanned the shore. “We need to make sure what happens next won’t be seen.”

“We’ve got about a mile of clearance, unless someone has a telescoping lens on a boat too far for us to make out from here. That’s about all the guarantee we can offer.”

“That will be fine.” Asa began removing his shirt and jacket, which he handed to me. “I’ll be quick.”

Flames engulfed him, roaring for seconds longer than usual, and the daemon emerged with a low growl.

Both wargs stumbled back a step, and Mrs. Officer put her hand on her service weapon.

“You even think about pulling that on him,” I said cheerfully, “and I will slap your heart between two pieces of white bread and call it lunch.”

That caused more panic, which was satisfying, but it also made my stomach rumble with false hope.

“Please tell me you’ll add lettuce, tomato, and mayo like a civilized person.”

That earned Clay, who knew I wouldn’t waste a good heart on cheap condiments, a scowl from me.

“Rue like me.” The daemon slung an arm around my neck and ruffled my hair with his fist. “She threaten mean dog people for me.”

Another chortle lodged in Clay’s throat, and I couldn’t decide who was on worse behavior today.

“Yeah, yeah.” I swatted the daemon’s hand. “Gloat later. You’re exposed here. It makes me nervous.”

To appease me, the daemon swaggered to the bones and began his examination.

“I’ve never seen anything like that.” Mrs. Officer gawped at him. “Is he…dangerous?”

“You saw him give me a noogie.” I finger-combed my hair. “Clearly, he’s a rabid killing machine.”

“I wish transformation was that simple for us.” Her husband stepped in to smooth over the bump. “He can change at will?” He snapped his fingers. “Just like that?”