Page 12 of Hostile Holiday

“Waited?”

“Yes. I sat down and didn’t touch anything, and I waited.”

“How long were you going to wait?”

“My personal best is three days.”

Hunter frowned. “Why?”

“Gren had wired my door to blow if I touched it, and my window overlooked jagged rocks. I had to wait for my mother to get home from her family funeral. She got me out and fed me.”

Hunter closed his eyes and nodded. “How old were you?”

“Twelve.”

“How old was your brother?”

“Seventeen.”

Hunter opened his eyes. “How old are you now?”

“Thirty-one.”

“What do you do in the mortal realm?”

“I work for a custom furniture company. I talk to clients, go through design books, and get them in touch with the shop when needed. I then compare all the invoices and make sure that we have the right materials in at the right time.”

“So, you are in customer service.”

“Yes.” She shrugged. “I can’t do anything else.”

The servant left. Hunter beckoned for her to sit at one of the tables that had small vials and flasks on it with a burner. “Why not?”

“My brother has me cursed. I can’trise above my station. I tried once. I was promoted to store manager. My apartment caught fire, and a garbage container crushed my car.”

His eyes widened. “I see. That narrows it down.”

She sat straight with her hands in her lap. “Narrows what down?”

“I would like to analyze you.”

She felt a surge of panic and knotted her fingers together. She didn’t know why she had left the sweater in her room, but she wanted it now. “It’s going to hurt?”

He blinked in surprise. “No. It is done on your hair. I just need you to pull two strands off your head. I will do the rest.”

“Oh. Okay.”

She reached up and pulled out a few strands. “I got four. Is that okay?”

He huffed in amusement. “It’s fine. Thank you.” He extended his clawed hand and took the strands on a claw tip. He tucked them into a flask and selected a few vials, pouring a swirling silver, glowing pink, and hot purple into it.

He muttered and chanted. His canine mouth blew cool air over the flask, and a cloud began to roil upward and out of the flask. The cloud hovered over the flask. When it became an orb, Hunter stared at it. An icon formed in the orb, and Orla recognized it. It was a warlock clan identification. It was very familiar, but she couldn’t place it.

A second clan appeared and hovered next to the first.

Hunter nodded. “Thought so. That explains a little. Well, it explains a lot.” The furry man chuckled.

The ring on her pinky was warm. She looked at him. “Do you want the ring back? I don’t need it as a marker anymore.”

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