I had forgotten it was still midmorning outside the Bowels of Hell. The instant we found a set of stairs and Aidan dragged me outside the building, my eyes almost melted under the beautiful, bright blue spring sky.
I followed Aidan as he took us the twenty steps separating the front entrance from the fast food place where I’d had a good run as a burger flipper about three years back. Luckily, it wasn’t yet time for the lunch rush.
A sigh of happiness escaped my lips once my tired butt touched one of the plastic chairs. We had chosen a table by the corner without windows, and Aidan sat with his back to the wall, of course. I dropped the Fae eyeball on my lap and took out my phone. A few texts awaited me.
Lisa was wondering if I had fallen into a hole on my way to the basement, Joe was wondering why some P&S lady had called him asking for my phone number, and Kane sent me a sad cat gif—which I took to mean that no, they had no openings at the shop. I ignored them all to send a heart emoji to my mom. She loved it when I randomly sent her texts, and I was currently suffering from a strange urge to run to her workplace and bear-hug her. Fighting Fae beasts did that to you, I suppose.
“People missed you?” Aidan asked in a tone that conveyed he had trouble believing anyone would.
“Just checking in with my mom,” I muttered, moving on to a fast reply to Lisa. Probably better if no one went to the basement looking for me.
Aidan must’ve been unimpressed with my daughterly love because he made a rude noise.
I looked up, frowning. “What? I love my mom. I live with her.”
“You live with your mom?” He gave me a pointed look. “Aren’t you, like, twenty-five?”
I gave him a sweet, sweet smile. “Twenty-four. What are you, forty?”
His eyes narrowed to slits as he lifted his burger to his mouth. “Thirty.”
I pocketed the phone and munched on a fry. “Shouldn’t you call someone to go take care of the guy on the floor?”
He took another bite of his burger. “Not my priority at the moment.”
“What if another hound comes and eats him?”
Aidan shrugged. “Not my problem. I just want the Eye.”
“Oh, you mean this?” I put the eyeball on the table, ready to snatch it back the second he dropped his burger.
He simply studied it from his side of the table. It really did look like an eye now. Its gray had lightened into a milky white, and while the glow of the veins was muted here under better light, the color was still a breathtakingly deep green. Also, the small circle where the tendrils originated was now clearly a pupil. Yes, this ball was definitely an eyeball.
And it rolled on its own to look at my fries.
Aidan coughed and spit half his burger. I snatched the eyeball and dropped it on the seat next to mine.
It rolled again, this time to look me straight in the eye.
Then it rolled toward my fries.
Holy shit.
“Holy Hell,” Aidan said right by my side. I jumped, startled. He was leaning over the table, glancing at the eyeball in wonder for a moment before a calculating look took over.
I picked up the ball and dropped it inside my neckline.
“What are you doing?” he demanded, straightening to his full height. “That thing is dangerous.”
“Oh, we’re back to that?” I moved onto the other seat to put more distance between us. “Are you ready to agree to my terms?”
Aidan looked blank for a second. “What terms?”
It was my turn to be outraged. “A job at the Institute.”
“Oh, that. No.”
“Then good luck getting the eyeball back.”
He was tempted—I read it on his face. Tempted to jump on me in the middle of the restaurant and attempt to shove his arms down the front of my sweatshirt.
While he debated, I picked up my phone again and searched my contacts.
“What are you doing?” he asked, suspicious, moving around the table.
I leaped out of the seat and put the table between us. “Calling.”
“Calling who?”
“Who do you think?”
Someone answered on the other side. “Magical Artifacts R & R.”
I recognized the rough, unwelcoming voice. “Hey, Victor, I’m looking for Greaves.”
Aidan stopped his prowling around the table and chairs.
“Maddie?” Victor asked with surprise. He recovered swiftly and continued in a stern voice, “Miss Dover, I’ve told you before, I can’t give you the boss’s number.”
“I need to talk to him. It’s important.”
“Look, I’m sorry the application didn’t work out, but there’s no point in talking to him. You know there are no appeals. You’ll have to wait until you can apply again.”
“It’s not about the application,” I told him, savoring my triumph. “I’ve found an artifact. I’m willing to deal, but you gotta tell your fellow goon to lay off me until I’ve spoken to the Jerk—to Greaves.”
“Who? What are you talking about?”
“Just get Greaves on the phone, please. He’ll want to hear about this.”
Aidan seemed to resign himself to the conversation between me and the Institute because he sat back down with a sigh and returned to his burger.
I remained standing, in case it was a trap.
“Wait, go back. What artifact are you talking about?” Victor asked in my ear.
“I found a Fae Eye. I’m willing to give it to the Institute, but I want a guarantee you’ll give me a job.”
“Are you serious?”
“Yup.”
“I don’t think that’s going to work,” Victor said, full of doubt.
“Well, I’m going to try,” I said, resolute.
“All right. I’ll give him a call then call you back.”
“Good.” I ended the call and lifted my chin in defiance.
Aidan picked up one of the paper napkins and wiped his fingers methodically. A spot of mayo stuck by the corner of his mouth, but I wasn’t about to tell him. As if reading my mind, he dabbed there too. Dammit.
Something vibrated against my butt. Confused, I glanced at the phone in my hand.
The vibration came again. Slowly, I reached for my back pocket and brought out the phone I had picked up earlier. Aidan’s phone.
Aidan went very still.
With a sense of dawning doom, I checked the screen. “Reed” was written on it. As if my hands were controlled by someone else, I swiped right and brought the phone to my cheek.
“Yes?” I asked in a surprisingly calm tone.
“Greaves?” Victor asked in a wary voice.
My gaze landed on Aidan. His expression was blank. “Not exactly.”
There was a sudden silence on the call. Then, with almost tangible surprise, “Maddie? I mean, Miss Dover? Where is Greaves?”
The corners of my mouth turned south. And south and south until I must’ve looked like some kind of really sour gaping fish.
The corners of Aidan’s mouth turned south and south until he was looking like a sour gaping fish.
Wordlessly, I passed him the phone.
“It’s Greaves,” he said into the phone. His gaze never left me, and neither did the grimace leave his face. “Yes. Yes, I know. No, don’t worry, I’ll deal with it. Sending you a text now.”
I moved to a chair and allowed gravity to pull me down to it with more force than necessary. I could still feel the edges of my mouth pulling down, and something was squeezing my insides with all kinds of gleeful relish.
Stupid. So, so stupid. Why did I feel so hurt? There was no reason for me to be hurt. Pissed off, sure. Mad at myself for not seeing it from the start? Indeed. But these stabs in my heart? Where did they come from? It wasn’t like we were best friends and he had betrayed me.
Except that was exactly how it felt.
Aidan pocketed his phone and schooled his expression into a serene-zen kinda thing, which only soured me further because it looked so artificial on him. So condescending it made me grind my teeth.
“Let’s talk like adults,” he said in a neutral tone—the kind of tone you use on children you’re scared are about to blow their gaskets. The need to nail him in the forehead with my plastic tray rose to unbelievable levels.
But no, I could play the cool game, too. Aiming for an I’m-a-good-girl placid smile, I sneaked a hand under my sweatshirt and tugged my t-shirt free of my jeans until I felt the reassuring weight of the Fae eyeball brushing against my fingers.
“So, you’re the Jerk,” I said.
His eye twitched. “Aidan Greaves. Director of the Institute.”
“Why do you keep rejecting my applications?” The words rolled off my tongue with a will of their own. I certainly hadn’t planned on uttering them.
A calculating look entered his eyes. Apparently convinced I wasn’t about to deteriorate into a screaming toddler, he relaxed his face into the stern expression I knew so well by now.
“You have no skills,” he said simply.
No smirk, no hint of smugness or condescension. As far as Aidan was concerned, that was the plain truth. One of my fingers drummed against the table. “Skills can be learned.”
“We have no teachers.”
“You’re a research organization. It’s right there in the name,” I pointed out. “Magical Artifacts Retrieval and Research Institute. You’re all about studying. Think of me as another student.”
Aidan snorted. “If today’s events are an example, you’re unable to learn anything. How many times did you attempt to use the Fae artifact after all my warnings about not using unknown artifacts?”
“A willingness to sacrifice the unknown for the greater good is a good trait. How was I to know you had an extra weapon?”
“You knew I worked for the Institute—”
“Big deal,” I muttered.
His brows arched. “If it makes you feel better to convince yourself you didn’t trust my affiliation to an Institute you’ve spent years applying to, and that’s why you acted so irresponsibly, go ahead.”
I ignored his prim, lecturing tone. “I will, thank you.” I paused to gather my thoughts, the drumming of my finger relentless. Aidan was a man of logic, and he would never be persuaded by anything else. “I thought we dealt with the situation pretty well, considering my lack of skills.”
“We’re still alive, yes.”
The sharp edge in his voice awoke my curiosity again. “What did the sword take?”
“My patience.” He checked his phone quickly. “Reed will be here soon. Your help in retrieving the artifact has been duly noted, Miss Dover.”
“But not enough to get me a job?”
His expression was cold as ice when he responded, “You’re not cut out for it.”
“Okay.” I stood. “Gotta pee, be right back.”
He blinked and busied himself with the remains of his food. Daww. He was cute, flustered like that. A grin broke free on my face as I made for the restroom near the entrance.
I wondered how long it would take him to realize the restrooms were way out of the binding zone.