Page 84 of The Hive Queen

Pen looks up and meets my eyes. “Couldn’t sleep?”

I shake my head.

Marc reaches into his bag and pulls out a bottle of ibuprofen and a can of coffee. “Emergency relief.”

I reach over the back of the seat to take them. “You’re a god.”

Pen reaches into the bag and pulls out a bag of lunch meat and a tray of cherry tomatoes, along with a food bowl. She dumps the food into it and pushes it in front of Anny.

My familiar turns up her nose at the offering.

Pen tugs her tail. “They don’t have a pet store in this parking lot, so eat this or go hungry.”

With a quiet bark, Anny stands and walks over to the shopping bag to stick her nose inside.

“That’s not for you.” Pen pushes her head back toward the food bowl.

Grumbling, Anny slinks over to catch a cherry tomato in her teeth.

Marc grabs two more coffees from the bag, passing them to Pen, before digging out pre-made sandwiches for us. “We have about an hour before we need to head to the next location. Should we hit up another grocery store? There are a couple of mom-and-pop places not on the list.”

“Might as well.” Pen closes the back door, and a moment later, opens the passenger side one and climbs in.

I take the sandwich she offers and pop it open to find roast beef and cheddar with a packet of horseradish.

Smiling, I lean over to kiss her cheek. “My favorite from my favorite.”

Marc slides behind the steering wheel. “What about me?”

I dutifully lean over and kiss his scruffy cheek, too. “You hunted well.”

“Damn straight, I did.” He opens his sandwich and takes a large bite before setting the box in the space between us and shifting the van into reverse. “Think the honey shortage will make the news?”

“It would be good to give them something else to focus on.” I unlock my phone and pull up the newsfeed, before handing it to Pen. “Our captain’s in trouble.”

* * *

Johannsson stares out the windshield at the figure that shuffles back and forth in the deserted parking lot. “This is so messed up.”

Pain throbs in my temples, and the sound of his voice grates on my nerves. “Would you rather we pump you full ofgenicaeand put you out as bait?”

“Stop it, both of you.” Sharpe uses thermal binoculars to sweep the empty street. “No sign yet that a drone has caught on to the honey trap.”

We spent the day gathering supplies and chose one of the abandoned factories to implement the plan.

The industrial area doesn’t see much movement once the sun sets, and patrol cars placed along the street warn anyone who is criminally inclined to take a break for the night.

After ransacking all of the stores in Clearhelm for their honey, we poured it all out onto the cement of the parking lot. Then the real fun started when a black van pulled up from the mortuary with a fresh cadaver to use as the bait.

Is it illegal? Possibly, but no one is asking questions, because the alternative is putting a living person out there, and I wasn’t volunteering for the job.

It was enough that I was volunteering one of my witchblood spirits, Ailill, who I keep with me at all times. He was happy enough to animate the corpse for a chance to play in a physical body.

In theory, the drone will sense the magic that clings to his spirit and will mistake the corpse for a witchblood male to kidnap for the Hive Queen.

Once the trap was set, we all piled into one of Sharpe’s tactical vans across the street to wait.

That was over an hour ago, though, and I can feel the spirit growing restless with the limitation of pacing the parking lot.

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