As I clutched the handle, the trailer’s front door blew off its hinges and smacked into the windshield. The glass didn’t break, but it spiderwebbed until there was no chance of us driving it anywhere else. Wand in hand, I exited the SUV and prepped a binding spell guaranteed to wipe me out for the rest of the day.
“Stand down,” Clay hollered to me from inside the trailer. “We’re good.”
Ignoring the order, wand at the ready, I held my position.
The entire trailer rocked as a familiar daemon made his exit, careful not to inflict more damage. His right horn gave him problems, but he figured out the angle and leapt to the ground rather than use the stairs.
I was unsurprised when he made a beeline for me. However, I was surprised when he took a fistful of his hair and offered it to me. He shook it at me until I accepted it, and it was all I could do not to laugh at his earnest expression. Maybe I wasn’t as smooth as I thought, and Asa had noticed me coveting his hair. Or if not him, his more primal self.
“You have very pretty hair.” I ran it through my fingers. “Thank you for, um, sharing it with me.”
That seemed to please him, and he stood sentry beside me, leashed by his hair, until Clay joined us.
Clay took one look at the handful of hair, shut his eyes, inhaled, exhaled, then ignored it altogether.
“That was the father of a missing girl.” Clay gusted out a sigh. “I told him her disappearance didn’t fit our timeline, that she wasn’t one of the victims we found, and it pissed him off worse.”
“He thought you had news.” I saw the problem and sympathized with the guy. “He was hoping for closure.”
“He punched the door.” Clay eyeballed the battered SUV. “Guess you noticed.”
As my adrenaline ebbed, I felt safe enough to pocket my wand, but I was stuck holding daemon hair.
I doubt they got much out of him, but I still asked, “Did he offer anything useful?”
“He said if we want to know about his daughter, we should check the missing persons reports he filed.”
Believe me, I would do just that. “How certain are we she’s not a previous victim?”
“Pretty sure since this guy wasn’t flagged on the suspect list. The Kellies don’t make mistakes often, but I would have handled the situation differently had I known. We need to update his file.”
The timeline left me certain I was missing critical information. “What took so long?”
“That would be the twenty-minute standoff where he held a gun loaded with cold iron rounds at Ace.” A grimness pinched his expression. “Ace believes he could have survived it, but he seems as fae as not to me. I didn’t want to take any chances.”
The daemon beside me grumbled under his breath as if to say I beg to differ.
I would have told him we were all more than the sum of our worst parts, but I wasn’t convinced I believed it either.
“This is why you shouldn’t ditch me.” Clay knew better than to leave me behind. “I could have thrown a sleep spell at him.”
Bart Olsen, according to his file, was a troll. Trolls were highly territorial. They tended to punch unexpected visitors in the face then let their guests announce themselves while spitting out teeth.
They also kept caches of various items of value. To them. Not necessarily to anyone else.
Yet another reason for their legendary aggression. They guarded their prized possessions to the death.
One troll on the company payroll built a fallout shelter to house his pickled foods hoard.
Carrots, pigs’ feet, beets, green beans, eggs, okra, as well as a variety of the classic pickled cucumber.
Go figure.
“We could have thrown you at him.” Clay chuckled at my temper. “You were dead to the world.”
“Drool,” the daemon beside me growled. “Everywhere.”
With a handful of his hair, I did what came naturally. I yanked. Then I regretted my act of hair violence. It wasn’t his hair’s fault that the daemon was teasing me. His flowing locks were innocent. I owed them an apology.