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I was still in the damned office hours later, poking around at what information I could find on White and mulling over the dead animal problem. Oswald had emailed me a bunch of pictures he took on his cell phone of the last few animals. The police didn't take time to photograph the scenes, since it didn't seem to relate to any significant "crime." But Oswald, thankfully, had thought something was just off about the whole thing. I had to admit, though, even with his pictures, all I saw was a bunch of dead animals—squirrel, rabbit, coyote...all of them rather gruesome, but nothing to write home about.
Oisin puttered about the office organizing. Gods, he was one sick weirdo. All my papers were tucked into tidy files in the desk, and he was currently re-arranging a bunch of knick-knacks on top of a taller filing cabinet in the corner. "You have to set a mood," he had informed me when I asked him what the hell he was doing. I had accused him of being a hopeless girl with his decorating tendencies, but I had to admit, the "mood" he was currently setting was one I could appreciate.
I glanced up to see him carefully angling an authentic flail just so among a display of knives. I heartily approved of a medieval mace as a decorating aesthetic. I didn't ask where he got it from. For all I knew, he was the original owner.
The bell above the shop door chimed and Oisin straightened. "Oh!" he said with a smirk. "I almost forgot, I owe you for taking a turn out in the dust torture chamber earlier. He dropped a kiss on the top of my head and flowed out the door with the grace only a snarky fae could achieve.
I sighed and glared at my computer, where a publicity photo of Derek fucking White stared back, all dark hair and blindingly white teeth. I still hadn't figured out what kind of supe he was. Or what it was about his smarmy, crime-lord ass that made me want to murder him. What the hell did he care about a bunch of dead animals? Why would he care if the DNR came and took care of it?
I stewed for a while longer, until an amazing scent hit my senses and I was jerked out of my brooding.
Con stood in the doorway. His brown curls were slightly damp still, and he smelled like soap over his usual scent of ink and paper. He must have hit the gym at the college before coming home to shower. He gave me a warm smile, his honey-brown eyes twinkling as he held up two steaming mugs of coffee. The scent of caramel and chocolate drifted to me like a caress and I sighed.
He chuckled and crossed the room to set a mug in front of me. "Oisin said he owed you for something. Made you clean, didn't he?"
I took the mug and dipped a finger in the glorious mound of whipped cream that covered the surface of my cup of calories. My metabolism ran high. That's all. I wasn't addicted to sugar and fat. Really.
I gestured for him to take a seat in one of the wingback chairs and turned my computer monitor so we could both see it. "If you're up to it, we have another job. Sort of." I wasn't getting paid, so technically I guess it didn't count as a job.
Con leaned forward to look at the monitor and raised an eyebrow. "White again? Gesa, really, this obsession has to stop."
I narrowed my eyes at him. He had been spending too much time with Oisin. "Fae snark is not a good look on you."
He gave me a look I couldn't decipher.
"No, but it looks amazingly sexy on me," Oisin said as he passed by the doorway, headed toward the stairs. "I see you got my thank you gift," he said with a smile that I knew meant nothing good. He arched a red brow as if surprised. "Oh—and he brought coffee. Bonus."
Then he trotted up the stairs, humming some airy jig.
I looked at Con, ready to make a comment about Oisin and his continuous innuendos. But my human secretary was studying his coffee as if it were suddenly very interesting. And his brown cheeks held just a tinge of pink.
Jesus, Buddha and Odin, he was adorable.
And I was an idiot. As if Oisin wasn't enough—like really, enough—I had to be wondering what would happen if I got sweet, caring Con to open up a little more.
I cleared my throat, took a drink of coffee, wiped away my whipped cream mustache, and clicked the file to open the dead animal pictures Oswald had sent me. Con made a noise in the back of his throat and I glanced over at him. He looked a little...green. "Are you okay? Did that asshole poison the coffee or something?" I glared suspiciously at my own delicious mug of wonderfulness.
Con shook his head and swallowed hard. "Uh. No. Nope. I'm fine." He glanced at the monitor and quickly away.
"You sure?" I said, frowning. "I mean, I know Oisin likes to tease, but seriously, if he took it too far, I'll wring his scrawny little neck."
Con laughed, his sudden smile like the sun coming out from behind the clouds. He laughed until tears formed at the corners of his eyes and his rich voice cracked. I waited patiently, still not daring to drink anymore coffee, just in case.
Finally, he sat up and composed himself. "Gesa, you are so.... I love that you're all protective of everyone you meet and all, but are you serious right now?"
I shook my head, completely lost. "Yes...?"
He reached out and turned my computer monitor back to my side of the desk. "I made the coffee. Not Oisin. It's not poisoned. Why did you just shove a bunch of disgusting pictures of slaughtered animals in my face?"
Oh. I was really thick sometimes. I was part eagle, part lion inside. There was a large portion of my brain that looked at those photos like it was checking out the selection of hamburger at the grocery store. And I spent most of my time with a man who had probably hunted people in the wild hunt. I tended to forget our roommate was human.
I sighed. I really sucked at handling...emotions and stuff. "I'm sorry," I said, shifting in my seat. "I didn't mean to...scare you? Make you uncomfortable?" I had no idea what to even apologize for.
He frowned. Great, and now he was mad. I'd made sweet, even-tempered, ever-tolerant Con angry. "I'm not scared. It just surprised me. It's a little gross, you know? I'm not used to seeing the insides of things on the outside. But I'm a thirty-year old man, not some little kid."
I hid my embarrassment by chugging coffee. Since it apparently wasn't poisoned or anything. "Right. Sorry." Gods. I was a grown-ass gryphon. Why did he make me feel like a teenager who didn't know what the fuck she was doing? "The pictures. That's what I wanted your help with. Oswald over at the police station said they've been getting a bunch of calls about people finding dead animals. Clearly they aren't dying of natural causes...so he thought there might be something else going on."
Con shook his head and took a drink of his coffee, muttering "clearly," under his breath.
I soldiered on. "But since they're just animals, no one over there really cares. Oswald thinks there might be a supe out there who is losing control. That could get out of hand."
Con peered at me from under lashes that had no damned right being that long and thick. "Does that happen often? I mean, supes losing it and killing a bunch of animals?"
I rubbed my forehead. Con was one of the rare humans who could see supes in their true forms, if he was looking hard enough. He was also a professor who taught mythological studies at the college, and an unabashed nerd. But I always struggled with how much of our world to share with him—with how much he could really handle.
"Sometimes. And sometimes...it's not just animals."
Con didn't seem too fazed by this information. He just nodded and set his coffee down. "Pen and paper?"
I laughed. "Oisin has been in here, organizing." I opened the top desk drawer to reveal a neat row of pens and tidy stack of paper. "It's disgusting."
Con shook his head at my poor, useless self. "Trade me?"
I switched him seats immediately. "You are supposed to be the office guy anyway."
He chuckled. "We all have our strengths, I guess."
He took out pen and paper and started scribbling notes to himself. Then he glanced up at me. "What do you need me to do?"
I shrugged. "Maybe look into what kinds of supes would hunt like this? They didn't eat anything, that I can see, so that might be important. Oh, and maybe find out if White has some kind of link to the DNR?"
At Con's confused look, I explained about White keeping the police from bringing in the one agency that would seem most suited to this sort of thing. He nodded.
I finished my coffee and stood. "I'll go do the physical poking around. If I sit at that desk one more second, I might lose it myself."
Con smiled at me. "I bet a gryphon on a rampage would result in more than a few dead squirrels."
I laughed. "You have no idea. Done with this?" I crossed around the desk to get his mug, then stooped to pick up a paper clip I'd dropped earlier when I was making a chain of them—because I was focused and shit. I was still crouched on the floor when Con spoke.
"I'm not afraid of you," he said softly.
I glanced up, my hand on the arm of his chair for balance. "What?"
"You make these comments...like you think you're the worst monster out there. You're not." He reached out a hand, hesitant at first, then seeming to find his resolve. He pushed his fingers through my hair, brushing the messy blond waves back from my forehead in a soft caress.
I hardly breathed. I wanted to scoff at him and tell him I didn't think I was a monster. That I was just a bad-ass. But something twisted up inside me.
He was more right than I wanted to admit. Oisin had helped me move past some of the fear and loathing I suffered after the rape that led me to leave my clan. I knew damned well that was not my fault. At all. But part of me might, maybe, sort of...feel guilty for maiming and nearly killing the man who did it. And for striking out on my own and refusing to go back to my clan. It just wasn't done. gryphons were strong, loyal above anything else. I had no loyalty left in me. And try as I might, I had to admit, some days I didn't feel so damned strong either.
Con stroked my hair again, his touch soothing. "Whatever that look is on your face right now," he said with a sad half-smile, "I wish I could make it go away."
I breathed again. Somehow. Reaching up, I caught the hand that was petting me like a wounded animal and gave it a squeeze. Hell, maybe I was a wounded animal. "That...means a lot, you know?"
He nodded, his kind eyes studying me, not minding my stumbling words. "Good."
For some dumb reason, I surged up and hugged him, breathing in ink and paper. He felt good in my arms, wider and more solid than Oisin, but softer somehow...more human, more breakable. He hugged me back, stroking my back and chuckling against my hair in surprise.
I pulled back and stood, scooping up the mugs, embarrassed at my emotional outpouring. Turning toward the door, I found Oisin leaning against the threshold with a smirk on his face. "So, you liked my gift then?"
I rolled my eyes and somehow refrained from throwing a coffee mug at his face. "It's so amazing how you just knew," I said, voice dripping sweetness and awe, "that I needed to spend some time with someone with an actual brain in his head."
I brushed by him as Con laughed. I ignored the wink Oisin sent me as I passed him by. He was up to no good. So much no good. I refused to let myself be drawn into his games.
Even if I really, really wanted to know what he was playing at.