Page 27 of Not With the Eyes

"You are so," Oberon said, and nudged him until he was braced against the side of a filing cabinet. "Fess up, Stéphane." That just made him go redder. "Oh, I see. You like hearing your name and pet names. Darling." She kissed Stéphane's check. "Sweetheart." The other cheek. "Honey." She laughed as Stéphane dragged her into a proper kiss.

When they finally drew apart, Oberon licked her lips and said, "Didn't peg you for the type to be melted by silly endearments."

"My life hasn't exactly been filled with pleasant names, you know. Algernon. Scones. Painkiller. When my mother was really pissed at me it was just 'boy' or 'you stupid boy'. When I was in the military, she loved being able to say my rank."

"She had a chance to nickname you Algae and passed it up? That woman really is supremely stupid."

"Algae is not an improvement!" Stéphane replied.

Oberon grinned. "Nonnie?"

"Shut up, shut up, and also shut up," Stéphane muttered before kissing her again, biting at her lips when Oberon just laughed. Between kisses, he said, "Aren't we supposed to be going through files?"

Snickering against his mouth, Oberon licked his lips and said, "You can go through my files."

Stéphane groaned. "That was terrible. I want to break up."

Oberon laughed harder and dragged him into a kiss that meant business, not remotely disappointed when she was the one suddenly pushed up against the filing cabinet, pinned there and her legs pulled up to wrap around Stéphane's hips. Nipping at his jaw, she said, "You're just being all commanding alpha because I look like a delicate little French-Chinese woman right now."

"If you want me to pin you as some six-four gym bro, I'll try," Stéphane said. "Or you can pin me. You're such a brat, have I mentioned that?"

"Not nearly enough," Oberon replied, and then there was nothing but kissing and touching, all thoughts of doing actual work gone from her head.

Until there was a loud banging, making them jump apart. Oberon glared at Dixie. "What?"

"Sorry to interrupt," Dixie said, not sounding very sorry at all, "but ya'll need to come see this. It's important enough Byron broke protocol to send it."

"Well. Fuck." Oberon straightened her clothes and fixed her hair, shooting Stéphane a sympathetic look as setting himself to rights took a bit more effort.

Once they were ready, they joined Dixie and Rodeo in the main space again, where Dixie had pulled up three vid screens, all of them filled with news or data.

Oberon stared, mouth agape, trying to take in what she was seeing. That she was really seeing it. "All right, have I finally gone off the deep end? Is this really telling me that Margaux Lachapelle and Montague St. Augustine have been arrested as traitors to the G.O.D., guilty of colluding with the Anti-Heroes and secretly helping their son the whole time?"

"My mother would sooner cut out her own eyes and tongue and eat them than do any of that," Stéphane said. "So would my father, for that matter. Shit, he doesn't even acknowledge I exist if he can help it. What in the hell is going on?"

"I dunno, but Byron thought it important enough that he broke protocol to send these to us. They were arrested about two hours ago, at her home in France, some fancy country estate."

"Oh, it's fancy all right," Stéphane muttered. "The Dogs have thrown both of them under, I don't believe it. They need to save face, and they chose to sacrificebothmy parents? Have they said anything about what they'll be facing?"

"Full tribunal, though obviously no hard dates yet." Dixie waved a hand, and the screens moved. "I've only got recordings. Byron didn't want to tempt fate by sending a live feed. Here it is…St. Augustine is being taken to Château d'If, which is about what I expected. Lachapelle is being taken to…well, fuck me."

Oberon's mouth flattened. "Alcatraz. She's not going to make it to trial." Alcatraz had belonged to the United Tribes for centuries, after they'd traded with Mexico in exchange for a stretch of land near the border. They'd held onto it, retaining the original nameLa Isla de los Alcatracesuntil they'd 'agreed' to sell it to the G.O.D. back in the late nineteenth century. The G.O.D. had subsequently turned it into a prison island, theabsolute worst of the dozen or so prisons they had scattered around the world. Château d'If came in about fourth for terribleness.

With rare—incredibly rare—exception, anyone who went into Alcatraz never came back out. Given she was also a Dog, and most of the people in Alcatraz had been put there by her…

"Sounds like she's getting exactly what she deserves," Stéphane said. "Good fucking riddance. Any champagne in this place?'

Rodeo snorted. "Yeah, there's a whole-ass room full of every alcohol you can think up. The Dogs didn't believe in being uncomfortable down here, which works for me. Pity we can't keep the place, it'd be fucking useful."

"Don't worry, our faerie overlord has better hidey-holes than this," Oberon replied. "I like the sound of champagne."

"On it," Rodeo said with a laugh, and rose smoothly to his feet, heading off toward the kitchen, whistling something that was probably usually played on a fiddle.

When he'd returned and poured four glasses, Rodeo lifted his, "To the fall of the Dogs."

"May they rot in hell," Dixie added.

"To the pending death of my cruel and heartless mother, may she never rest in peace."

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