Poison Fruit
Page 93Unsurprisingly, the news of my date with Stefan traveled fast. On Sunday morning, I got a phone call from an indignant Jen demanding to know why I hadn’t told her about it, and insisting on details.
“I can’t believe I had to hear about this secondhand,” she said. “I’m the one who set this thing in motion, girlfriend!”
I winced. “I know, I know!”
“So?”
“It was nice,” I said. “But it was weird, too. He bought throw pillows, Jen. Ninety-dollar ones.”
“Why is that weird?” she asked. “Do you think it means he’s gay or something?”
“No, definitely not.” Apparently, I couldn’t communicate why I found the notion of Stefan purchasing throw pillows so disconcerting. I didn’t tell her about Dufreyne’s warning. That could wait until I knew more.
“Did you hook up?” Jen asked.
“No,” I said. “We’re taking things slowly.”
“That’s probably a good idea,” she said. “Are you going to see him again?”
“Yeah.” I nodded. “We’re having brunch next Saturday.”
“Yep.”
“Something about the idea of Stefan the hot ghoul doing brunch just seems . . . wrong,” Jen commented.
“I know, right?” I said. “That’s what I’m trying to say about the throw pillows.”
“Okay, well, I want a full report next Sunday,” she said. “Sinclair said to let you know that the coven’s working on the charm. He has something else he wants to talk to you about, but they need to do more research.”
“Okay.”
On Monday, I was called in to the station to cover the front desk for Patty Rogan, who was out with the flu. Chief Bryant gave me a long, appraising look, the expression on his face unreadable.
“I hope you know what you’re doing, Daisy,” he said to me.
Most of the time I appreciated the paternal interest the chief took in me, but today it rubbed me the wrong way. “Duly noted, sir.”
He gave me a slow nod of acknowledgment and didn’t push the issue, for which I was grateful.
Other than my debut with Stefan as Pemkowet’s premier eldritch power couple, the pending lawsuit was still the main topic of conversation in town. The big news was that the tri-community boards had voted to accept Lurine’s offer, and her high-priced celebrity lawyer, Robert Diaz, was coming to town to consult with the defendants and their lawyers. Since Diaz wasn’t licensed to practice in Michigan, he couldn’t actually represent us, but he would be providing counsel every step of the way, starting with a formal request that the judge replace Dufreyne due to conflict of interest.
I had an hour to go on my shift when Cody entered the station, bringing the scent of snow and pine trees with him. Without a word, he tossed a folded sheet of thick stationery, battered and dirt-smudged and sealed with a blot of red wax, on the desk in front of me.
“What’s this?” I asked.
“I was supposed to give this to you a week ago.” Cody’s tone was flat. “Open it.”
I broke the seal and opened the paper to find an official invitation to attend a gathering of the Fairfax clan on Sunday, January 19, in my capacity as Hel’s liaison. It was signed by Cody’s uncle Elijah, who was officially the head of the clan.
It wasn’t quite a punch to the gut, but it hurt. “I see.” I folded the invitation. “Why did you wait so long?”
Cody shrugged. “Guess I had mixed feelings about the whole thing. But now I hear you’ve moved on.”
Okay, that was a low blow. “Not by choice,” I reminded him.
His upper lip curled, revealing eyeteeth that were a bit too long. “You could have chosen anyone but Ludovic!”
My temper stirred. “Don’t go there,” I said to Cody. “Just . . . don’t. You have no right.”
“I can’t help—” He cut off his sentence as Chief Bryant poked his head out from his office.
“Fine, sir,” Cody said stiffly. “My apologies. I didn’t mean to raise my voice.”
“I see.” The chief’s gaze was shrewd. I had a feeling Cody and I had just blown our cover, but the chief didn’t pursue it. “Don’t forget to swing by the Chandlers’ place,” he said to Cody. “They’re in the Bahamas this week and I promised we’d keep an eye on it. They had a break-in when they were on vacation last year.”
“Right.” Cody nodded. “Will do.”
Chief Bryant waited for Cody to leave, then ambled over to my desk. “This business with you and Ludovic,” he said, without looking directly at me. “Does it have anything to do with Officer Fairfax?”
“No.”
“Good.” He rapped his knuckles on the desk. “These are difficult times. Try not to make them harder, all right? We really can’t afford distractions that affect morale in the department.”
I wanted to say that it wasn’t my fault; that Cody had made his choice and he had to live with it. But I figured it probably wasn’t a good idea to openly admit that we’d had a relationship, sort of. “Understood, sir.”