Dream Walker (Bailey Spade 1)

Oh, a telekinetic too. Fun. “I’d like to speak to her as well. Who else could rip someone apart?”

“No one I can think of,” Kit says.

I stand up. “Then let’s start with Kain, Colton, Eduardo, and Nina.”

“Sure.” Kit assumes her big-eyed, overly cute anime guise and dashes for the door.

I follow her through a couple of corridors. When we reach a massive door, her phone rings.

She pulls it out. “Hello?” She listens for a few seconds, but I can’t hear the other side. “Sure, I’ll get the usual. If they have sashimi-grade salmon, five pounds.”

“Someone’s hungry,” Felix mutters. “Or, like me, has a cat with exquisite taste.”

Kit listens for another second. “Yep, she’s with me.” She covers the phone. “Kain sent Firth shopping. Do you need anything?”

I ask for a case of bananas, six gallons of distilled water, a dozen bottles of hand sanitizer, and—just to mess with Filth—every feminine hygiene product I can think of, plus laxatives and adult diapers.

Kit doesn’t blink an eye as she repeats my list to Filth. Sadly, I can’t hear if he complains.

I sneak out my phone and text Felix:

See if you can hack into the store camera to record Firth buying all that stuff. Bonus points if the adult diapers don’t scan, so the clerk has to look up the price manually.

He chokes with laughter. “I’ll try.”

Kit hangs up. “I think I know why you requested everything except the bananas.” She turns into a monkey and scratches her head with her foot before transforming back into herself.

Felix groans. “I can’t believe she just walked into that lecture. I’m going to put you on mute.”

“If you must know,” I tell Kit, “it’s one of the very few things I feel safe eating on this world. You can carefully peel bananas without touching the inside. Even if the outside is crawling with salmonella, you can be safe.”

Kit’s eyes widen. “Really?”

I’m unable to resist the opening. “The food industry here on Earth is an abomination. Did you know there’s human DNA in hotdogs? Or that the United States FDA allows maggots, rodent hair, cigarette butts, and mold in food? Did you realize that milk is allowed to have pus and blood in it, or that every meat you can think of has fecal—”

“Stop, please.” Kit makes her ears disappear and reappear. “I don’t want to end up eating bananas for the rest of my life.”

“Sorry. Do you want to know what the sanitizer’s for?”

She rolls her eyes. “That’s pretty clear. I assume the other stuff is a prank on Firth?”

“That obvious?”

She assumes Filth’s weaselly visage. “You know how many jokes feature a vampire and a tampon?”

I grin. “You should tell me some. But only after I solve this case.”

“Right.” She becomes herself and knocks on the huge wooden door in front of us.

The giant—Colton—opens up. Unsurprisingly, he looks just like Kit’s impersonation of him, except he’s wearing an apron.

“I have a brisket in the oven,” he booms. “Is this going to take long?”

Felix snorts. “Cue the banana rant.”

I surreptitiously flick the earbud to hopefully deafen Felix. “Not long. But we can do this later.”

“No, come in.” The giant opens the door wider.

I step in but stay vigilant about touching anything that he could’ve contaminated during food prep. The aroma of fried animal flesh is unmistakable.

“Sit,” he urges as we enter a surprisingly modern kitchen—well, modern for Earth. Given the medieval ambiance of the castle, I was half expecting to see some unfortunate pig’s head on a spittle over a fire. Instead, there are white quartz countertops, stainless steel appliances, and a sleek table with backless chairs that appear to be sized for a giant. And, I guess, a brisket in the oven.

I clutch the sanitizer in my pocket for comfort. “I’ll stand, thanks.”

“Suit yourself.” He plunks down in one of the chairs, making it creak under his weight. “What did you want to know?”

“It all boils down to one question,” I say, eager to escape the unsanitary environment as quickly as possible. “What were you doing at the time Gemma was ripped apart?”

He frowns deeply. “You think I’d—”

“She has to ask everyone,” Kit says. “Even me.”

He lets out a resigned sigh. “I was herding the goats.”

I shift my gaze from him to Kit, who turns into one of the puckish creatures and bleats.

Colton gives her a chiding look. “Goats keep the shrubs around the mountain at bay, give the monks a source of milk and cheese, and provide everyone with occasional mutton.”

“Milk, cheese, mutton—another chance for the banana rant,” Felix murmurs.

If I deigned to acknowledge his existence, I’d tell him that free-roaming goat products feel way safer to me than germ-infested industrial farm food, at least as far as Salmonella and E. coli go.

“What I really need are some details,” I tell Colton. “Like what the sky was like or in what formation the goats stood—anything that made that afternoon memorable.”