Page 61 of The Hive Queen

I stiffen at the mention of the Bone Yard and keep my back to them to hide my expression. That place will forever be tangled up with memories of Darius for me.

“So, a danguri?” Flint’s voice comes closer. “Did you actually steal something from one of those nasty creatures?”

I shake my head as I pull down three mugs. “Naw, just something it was squatting on. But Savannah nearly got us tracked when she knocked over one of its trash towers. Almost got me buried alive, too.”

“I hope the job paid well.” Flint opens the fridge and pulls out the creamer in a dance of familiarity we’ve done thousands of times. “Danguri are therealdragons of this world with their hoards.”

“No doubt. Not nearly as palatable for the media, though.” I fill mugs and push them across the counter to be topped off with creamer. “If a danguri had attacked Main Street instead of the Beast, the press would have spun a completely different story.”

Flint shudders. “Did you report it? Pretty sure they’re still on the restricted list.”

“No.” I turn and lean against the counter. “The demon council would just hire one of us to dig it out, and Trent’s team is the nearest to its nest.”

Flint nods in understanding. “How is Jerry recovering?”

“Didn’t see him, but the others don’t sound too concerned.” I take the mug Flint holds out and pass it to Pen, who joined us like a moth drawn to the flame of her caffeine addiction. “They said to tell you both hello.”

“We should go visit them.” Pen takes a deep gulp of coffee, draining half the mug. “It’s been too long since we sat around a fire and told stories.”

“Marshmallows and chocolate.” Flint licks his lips as he opens a cupboard and pulls out a small bowl. “Anny would love the burnt hot dogs, too.”

At the sound of her name, or maybe the bowl hitting the counter, the fox pokes her head into the kitchen, her ears twitching.

Flint fills the bowl with cream and sets it on the floor for her. “It’s a treat, and then you’re going back to kibbles.”

The good mood that was building sours in my stomach, and I look away from the pair.

“Hey, Marc, this girl’s rejected all my attempts to come up with a new name for her.” Flint pets the fox between her ears as she greedily licks the cream from the bowl. “Any suggestions?”

My hand tightens on the mug. “Nope.”

Flint pouts. “Not even one?”

The front door opens, saving me from the snappy reply that pushes for release.

I straighten away from the counter as Sharpe comes through the front door, his face pinched and his brow furrowed.

Pen glances at the clock, then turns toward him with concern. “Everything okay? Shouldn’t you be at the press conference?”

He shakes his head and kicks his shoes off before hanging his jacket up, his motions jerky. “Chief Lynch said he and Bailey could take care of it without me.”

By Pen’s wince of sympathy, this is a bad thing. I’m not a fan of Bailey after his team interfered with the Beast on Main Street, but I’ve obviously missed something in my time away.

“It’s fine.” Sharpe tugs his tie loose, and his tired gaze lands on me. “Hey, Marc, welcome home.”

“You, too.” I grab the coffee meant for Flint and stride over to Sharpe, offering it to him. “You look like you could use this.”

“Hey!” Flint protests. “That’s mine!”

Sharpe takes it gratefully. “I don’t suppose there’s dinner? I haven’t eaten since this morning.”

“We can order Chinese.” Pen hurries around the counter to grab the to-go menu and place the order.

“Thank you.” Sharpe sips his coffee and wanders over to the table of books. “When did you get back, Marc?”

“A couple of hours ago.” Guilt pricks at me for the small lie. It’s been longer than that, but I’ve only been at the cabin for two hours. “What was the press conference about that you got booted out of?”

Sharpe pulls the open book with the Hive Queen over to study the image. “This. But my boss wants to spin it to make it sound like the latest victim was killed by a sex worker.”

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