Page 17 of Amber Gambler

A singular caw rose behind me, a warning before Badb graced us with her presence, landing on my head.

“Corvus brachyrhynchos.” Curiosity honed her features. “Necromancers don’t take familiars, do they?”

“She belongs to a friend of mine.” I sidestepped the question. “I’m birdsitting her for a while.”

“I had no idea we shared a hobby.”

“Yes, well, my interest is recent.”

“The girl may stay with me,” she decided on the spot. “How can I say no to a fellow ornithophile?”

“Thank you.” I reached up to stroke Badb’s silky breast. “I’ll be right back with Farah.”

To the crow, after we left Alyse, I murmured, “I owe you a hotdog.”

With her pleased chuffing in my ear, I returned to the Chevelle, happy to have solved one problem.

The lack of sleep meant my eyelids kept drooping during the morning rush. I even switched from tea to a coconut mocha blend of dark coffee that caused Josie to vibrate after drinking a cup. I drank four, with an eye on five. All it had done for me, so far, was make me pee.

“Jefa, you’ve got a visitor.”

Swallowing a yawn, I laced my fingers on the desktop and arranged my expression into a smile. “Ready.”

Paco, too polite to call me out, tipped his chin and stepped aside to reveal a diminutive blonde woman.

A drum banged inside my chest when she smiled, her teeth sharper than I recalled, but she just laughed.

“Hey.” She flung a bag of cheddar puffs at me. “Consider this visit the first in a twelve-step program.”

“Nah-ah.” I fumbled the bag, caught it against my chest, then tossed it back at Carter. “No way.”

“That’s fair.” She tore it open, shoved one in her mouth. “You don’t have to forgive me.”

“It’s not that.” I breathed easier with her fingers stained orange. “You already have a taste for my blood. I would rather face a lion with a raw steak tied around my neck than you with an opened bag of cheddar puffs in my hands.”

A snort ripped out of her, and the tension bled out of her shoulders. “Am I forgiven then?”

“What’s a little attempted murder between friends?” I cracked a grin. “I’m hard to kill.”

The lie brought color rushing into her cheeks, and she grinned back. “Glad to hear it.”

Unsure if she was marking an item off her to-do list or curious what I had dragged Harrow into while she was away, I asked, “Is this an official visit?”

A fraction of her earlier stiffness returned, and I wished I had kept my mouth shut. “Does it have to be?”

More uncertain than ever, I forced out a stilted response. “No?”

“I’ll be frank,” she began.

“Please don’t be Frank,” I deadpanned. “Then folks will have trouble telling us apart.”

“See?” A chuckle moved through her. “Now that was funny.” She shook her head. “Harrow could learn a thing or two from you.” Her eyes darkened at the mention of him. “How is he?”

The glimpse of vulnerability surprised me. “You haven’t seen him yet?”

“I wanted to come here first.” She crunched another cheddar puff. “Not sure he’ll want to see me.”

With her assigned to him as a training officer for the 514, a new secret para law enforcement division of the Savannah Police Department, he wouldn’t get a say in the matter.

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