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“Who?” he asked, grinding out the word to deliver it with all the punch his fists could not.
Yet another regret.
Molly shot to her feet, her espresso eyes widening with shock that quickly masked the bleakness he’d briefly glimpsed there. “Who, what?”
“Who was disingenuous to you?” And mages, did he hope that was the mildest word to describe whatever he’d caught her reminiscing about.
“No one,” she replied, wrapping her arms over her chest, but not before his heightened celestial senses caught a glimpse of her nipples pressed against her thick flannel shirt. At the sight of it, his angel fire writhed within his core, flexing and tensing against the wall of his muscles. Brass swallowed around a dry throat and filled his lungs with frigid air, doing his best to douse the flames.
She was cold, dammit, and he was on a thousand kinds of fire just staring at her, breathing her into the cells of his body. Each inhale within her proximity pummeled his fury further back into its recesses, where he could finally form a goddamn thought without worrying whether his next emotion would either spark or snap the tether to his rage.
An inexplicable lightness filled his chest, once again catching him off guard, so he pressed on about what had still managed to hold his focus. Brass lifted his chin toward the dog. “Is he the only one who gets to know your secrets?”
Molly blanched, and even the dog stopped its fidgeting to cast a reproachful glare in his direction, as if it had spent far too much time around alley cats and had mastered their apathetic lingo. “She doesn’t know anything. She’s just a stray I found when I came out here to get some air.”
A little black nose reached higher, sniffing in Brass’s direction. After a few good whiffs, the dog sneezed, shook out its head, and retreated behind the protection of Molly’s ankles. Of course the mutt would be a female.
Preferring to only engage with one member of that particular sex at the moment, Brass chucked the bag of garbage into the open dumpster, wiped his hands on the apron around his waist, and tossed his head back toward the restaurant’s door. “Why do you need air? Did one of the diners say something to you? Do something?”
“What? No!” She scoffed, then dismissed the idea with a wave of her hand.
“I’ve seen it before.” At that, she tensed, and a small crack in the bravado of her proprietress demeanor began to form. “Haven’t seen that guy since, have you?”
Molly tensed, then folded her arms over her chest and darted her eyes from the dog to somewhere just below Brass’s chin. His collar, maybe?
There was no need to clarify which guy he was referring to, nor did Molly need to know the particular dimensions of compact crusher cube Brass had turned the asshole’s car into later that evening.
Though he did take the spark plug out first, as promised.
“No, no I haven’t.”
“Good. Then who was it?”
The dog chose that precise moment to jump up on Molly’s thighs, wagging its slender tail with an enthusiasm that belied its bedraggled state. If the thing wanted food, there was an entire dumpster full of slightly-below-excellent dine-out options not ten feet from them.
And yet, as predicted, Molly took the adorable bait, crouching down to resume their little love fest. “Poor little dear. Don’t worry, I’ve got you. I’m sure Uncle Benny has some delicious scraps to share, though don’t let him hear you call them scraps. He’s more of a nose-to-tail kind of guy, so anything in between is fair game.”
“Molly.” Her name skittered out on a growl he hadn’t meant to unleash. Regardless of the delivery, it still had the desired effect. Her head shot up, and for the first time, apprehension clouded her gaze. The expression wasn’t the shy, coy glance she’d give him when she thought he wasn’t looking or the sweet and amenable manner she adopted when working out a customer complaint. No, this was something entirely foreign, something that spoke of sinister motives and deep, soul-crushing regret.
Uncertainty. Betrayal. Shame.
A thunderous pop resounded behind him, followed by the distinctive smell of sulfur and smoke. The dog began barking, erupting at Molly’s feet and prancing around her in a circle of defensive energy.
“Oh my God! There’s a fire!” Molly screamed, trying to corral the frantic beast.
Brass spun around and caught the tendrils of black fumes trickling out from beneath the open lid of the dumpster. He vaulted toward the metal container and gripped the edges to peer in. A small fire had ignited, sputtering among a bundle of copper wires protruding from some discarded kitchen appliances nestled on a bed of every crumpled paper product the restaurant was capable of producing. The flames were, thankfully, slow-moving and contained, though the wind was picking up and tended to grow fiercer when funneled through alleys. With so many electrical lines nearby, all it would take was a good spark to catch flight on a stiff breeze and they’d be in real trouble.
“Something must have ignited in here,” Brass called over his shoulder. “Grab a fire extinguisher.”
“There’s one in the hall right by the kitchen.” Molly left the dog and hurried back into the restaurant.
With Molly gone, Brass sent ribbons of his metallic power into every copper molecule until they were no more than molten puddles splattered over kitchen refuse. With the matter melted into its liquid form, the flames had no choice but to shift as well.
Except they didn’t.
Where Brass had expected the fire to smother and sputter out once robbed of its ignition source, instead it licked across the smooth metal with renewed vigor. Barely simmering oranges erupted into blazing blues that fiercely raced through the entire contents of the dumpster with the voracity of a swarm.
What the hell?
