"Eat."
Kaliope dodged the spoon Inola tried to force into her mouth. The supposed soup the fox demon brought resembled the icky concoction witches brewed in their cauldrons with floating eyeballs and bits of human body parts. Kaliope spotted neither, but the thick consistency of the mixture, the mysterious green hue, and the unpalatable aroma hinted at it.
"No. Don't want to."
Kaliope struggled to speak and secure her mouth simultaneously while Inola straddled her on the bed.
"Eat. My Auntie Priya says it'll put meat on your bones." Inola swooped in with the spoon.
"I have meat on my bones. No." Kaliope pressed her lips shut.
Inola's lips split into the toothy grin she showed Andreas. Her pupils elongated slits in a pool of silver. Something other rippled beneath her skin. Behind her, three tails swished like furry, agitated pythons.
"Alright. Should we do this the easy or the demon way?"
Minutes later, Kaliope lay in bed unresponsive, the soup container empty. Tears rolled down her cheeks from the trauma. Pleased at fulfilling her duties, Inola repacked her lunch bag. Gideon entered the room, waving an issue of the Occult Gossiper. He stopped. Sniffed.
"Who died?"
"Me." Kaliope groaned. "I died."
Inola rolled her eyes and shook her head. "What's with the paper?"
News of Katerina's death graced the front page in bold print.
Prominent jewelry designer to the elite murdered. Body missing. Unknown culprit at large.
The media played up the link between Katerina and the missing jewel, spinning their tale. The article dropped hints and misleading suppositions without stating anything outright for fear of a lawsuit. They allowed enough wiggle room for the public imagination to fill in their versions of salacious innuendos.
The Occult Gossiper was responsible for what they printed, not the public's assumptions. Kaliope glowered at their underhanded tactic. The differences between the Noccult and Occult were negligible when she weighed the similarities.
"No mention she's a charm mage." Gideon rolled up the paper. "The Assembly's bending over three-ways to withhold her real designation from print."
"It won't last long. With all the fake jewelry Katerina sold. I can hear their little feet scrambling to plug all the leaks." Inola mimicked the movement with her fingers.
"Meanwhile, Madam Falgor blazed into the office like a dragon breathing fire. Ronin's fending her off."
"Oh." Inola's eyes shined. "I want to watch."
Kaliope did too, but questions plagued her.
"One thing's bothering me. What if the plan succeeded? What if Zohar took the fall for the theft and Falgor House became a single-branch succession? Ballister knows if he and Juniper can't have children, his House dies with him. Why put his wife, the woman he supposedly loves, in a compromising position—?"
"Divorce."
Kaliope flinched at Inola's matter-of-fact response. Kaliope wasn't a Ballister Falgor fan, but the solution was harsh—an unforgivable betrayal against Juniper.
"You can't be serious?"
Gideon chimed in. "Ballister has a duty, and witches are, if nothing else, dutiful. Remember the reading I sent you?"
Kaliope mentally referenced Gideon's files. The witches believed choosing the family first was noble self-sacrifice for the greater good. Kaliope nodded, and Gideon continued his reasoning.
"Would Ballister allow the House to die on the altar of his love for Juniper? Would his mother allow it? Ballister's not the first heir faced with the choice between continuing his bloodline and protecting his family from ruin versus his desires. It's a calculated means to an end. A way to preserve their culture and species. The same principle applies to Lycans. "
Kaliope frowned at Gideon's clinical analysis, aware her personal feelings clouded her perception.
"It's so...cruel." From Kaliope's sole encounter with Juniper Falgor, she believed the woman loved her family. Loved her husband. Her struggle to bear a child ate away at her amid all the malicious gossip about her mix-blood heritage. Franziska hexed a woman to defend her. Kaliope see-sawed in her conviction the Falgors could be so callous in the end. Memories of her mother crept in as a reminder it wasn't inconceivable.
Despite Dr. Joriah's order for bed rest, Inola snuck Kaliope out of the ward. Gideon protested but helped support Kaliope as they absconded the med department for their office. The elevator door opened, and the guilty trio halted.
Andreas McIntyre glanced up from his phone. He regarded Kaliope, a smile breaking across his lips. She wore Gideon's oversized jacket over her hospital clothes as a disguise. Andreas snorted.
"Get in before someone sees you."
Inola and Gideon ushered Kaliope into the elevator. Inola positioned herself between Kaliope and Andreas. Gideon stepped in last and pressed the button for CMT.
The fox demon's presence surrounded Kaliope in a way her small frame shouldn't, as if guarding her.
From the big bad wolf.
Kaliope glanced at Andreas' half-hidden profile.
Ronin doesn't trust him. Don't ask me why. I'd give Andreas a wide berth. Foxes are tricksters, but lycans wear many faces.
Kaliope's curiosity stirred at the notion Ronin had many faces. The only ones she'd seen were his disinterested face, imma-bite-you red-eyed glare, and the one from the night of his visit. Kaliope shook the memory aside.
Don't think about it.
"Heard you ran into a charm mage on your first day here."
It was awkward speaking around Inola to offer Andreas a response. "If my luck were any worse, I'd think someone hexed me."
Andreas laughed. Touched his clean-shaven jaw. "Got slapped by a hex once."
"Bet you deserved it."
Kaliope swallowed a snicker at Inola's bard. Gideon coughed in his fist to stop from laughing. Andreas half turned to respond, and the elevator dinged. The door swung open on the floor for the legal department.
"Bye, bye now. May your day be hexed." Inola wiggled her fingers at an aggrieved Andreas until the door closed, separating them.
"Inola." Kaliope jabbed her coworker in the rib with an elbow. "That was rude."
Gideon released his suppressed laugh. "May your day be hexed."
Inola waved a dismissive hand. "He needs to stop being so flirty-flirty. And you need to stop encouraging him. You don't want to be on the other end of a Lycan's fixation."
Inola feigned a shiver as if she spoke from experience.
"I'm not encouraging anything. I'm being polite."
"Then stop, human. It's unbecoming."
Inola and Kaliope bickered about her unwise politeness until they entered the office. Franziska Falgor exited Ronin's office with their Lycan-in-Chief. He raised a brow at Kaliope, his disapproval discernible. The Madam appeared less ruffled than expected, and Ronin seemed unhexed and his usual calm and composed self. Jacket and tie included.
After escorting Franziska Falgor to the lobby, Ronin returned and regarded Kaliope. She was nursing a cup of tea courtesy of Gideon. He fussed like a mother hen, and his puppy dog eyes drowned all her objections in twin pools of cuteness.
Ronin shoved his hands in his pockets. "Defiant as expected, Ms. Barnes."
"Can't deny my basic nature to be anything else, boss." Kaliope sipped her tea, offering him her sweetest smile. The citrusy taste of her tea reminded her of Ronin. Of the surge of heat triggered by his teasing about her restraints.
Perhaps I should buy a pair...for your desk.
Kaliope set the tea aside. Ronin was watching her.
"Faint, and I won't carry you again."
Kaliope froze, mortified. He'd carried her from her apartment. In his arms. In her pajamas. Kaliope tugged Gideon's jacket tighter. "Not like I meant to call you. I was calling the professor."
Ronin shook his head. "Ingratitude is the worst of vices."
Kaliope's nostrils flared, annoyance and embarrassment warring for purchase. "I am not ungrateful—"
Inola clapped her hands together. "Alright, alright. Settle down. It's not a good look when mummy and daddy quarrel in front of the kids."
Ronin and Kaliope pinned the fox demon with murderous glares. Inola grinned, unperturbed.
"Fuel to the fire, Nola." Gideon's reprimand fell flat with his grin. "Anyway, boss. You didn't tell Madam Falgor about Ballister."
Kaliope's attention returned to why she'd skipped out of the ward. If Ronin had informed Madam Falgor about their suspicion of Ballister's involvement, she wouldn't have walked out without scorching the earth. Or hexing the lot of them.
"Due time."
There was a need for an abundance of caution.
Gale entered the room, scrolling on his tablet.
Ronin approached a sullen Gale as he settled at his workstation. "Anything?"
Gale paused as if not wanting to answer. "Found footage of Ballister entering the store once. There's no other communication between him and Katerina. If they were conspiring, wouldn't they need to communicate?"
"Gale, you more than the rest of us know there are ways."
Gale sucked in his cheeks at Ronin's reminder. Kaliope squinted at the tech mage, concerned his witcher solidarity might impede the case. He cast Kaliope an ascorbic sideways glance.
If looks had teeth...
Kaliope guessed Gale believed the team was attacking everything he believed and held dear under her guidance. Ronin also must have sensed the hostility as he pinched the bridge of his nose and instructed Gale to follow him into his office.
"And you," he pointed at Kaliope. "Be gone by the time I return."
~~~
To read the entire first season, along with Seasons 2 and 3, join me on Ream. The link's in my bio on the home page. Hope to see you there.