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“Really,” Traps said, still unable to believe shit had gone that far south. “What happened?”
“He got out the bloody car is what happened,” Rowan tattled.
“Thenshegot out thebloodycar,” Fetch muttered, his tone thickening the air.
“Because ye said ye was gonna preach a sermon to theirblood!”
“As I said, human, it’s notmyfault you assumed I meant violence.”
She shot out a laugh, aiming a pointer finger at his face while looking at Traps. “Tell me you’da thought otherwise with this one?”
“He is notonewith me, mywife,” he reminded.
“Well, I guess yer fetchin’ powers you gave meglitcheda wee bit, then?”
“No, human. Your submissionglitched.And look what that cost.”
Traps felt his anger more than heard or saw it and her sudden silence said she did too.
“Somebody get hurt?” he now wanted to know.
“Ten humans were added to the paraplegic race,” he mumbled, sounding unapologetic. Which meant all his anger was directly related to the fear of her safety, not theirs. Traps agreed a thousand percent with that.
He was about to dig for more details when Rowan asked, “So, what’s ye’ real name?”
“Neelo Richard,” Traps said.
“Neelo,” Fetch mused. “Italian.”
“My great grandfather, yes.” He bit his tongue on more, ready to get to the issue.
“So, here’s what I see,” Rowan said, pressing her face against Fetch’s who leaned into it, his anger nowhere to be found as he rubbed her like a hungry cat, eyes still boring into Traps’ all the while. “For one, his poor mind is riddled with holes from all his diggin’ for answers. Probably why he can no see what is plain as day in front of his face, yeah.”
“And what is that?” Fetch asked for him.
“Well, I’m only guessin’,” she pardoned herself, “at least till I have a wee look at the lass responsible for the other half of this mess, but me thinks he’s plantin’ the wrong seeds in the wrong field at the wrong time.”
Traps glued his tongue to the roof of his mouth at the three vague revelations, determined to wait for more.
“I think he’s too close to the problem,” she explained in english. “Can I ask him questions?”
“You may,” Fetch said, his thumbs moving over her hands as he continued staring at Traps.
“You two fight all the time?” she started off with.
“Always,” he said. “Only, I’m never fighting, she is. Every chance she gets, every day. All day.”
“What is she fighting with you about?”
He paused briefly. “When I say everything, it’s not an exaggeration. All that I say and do is a problem and all I don’t say and do is a problem.”
“So, she’s looking for problems,” she mused, getting Traps’ nods. “Yep,” she decided. “Sounds scared outta her wee mind, me thinks. What about ye’, husband? What ye’ be fetchin’ bout it?”
Scared?Her? “I’m emphatically sure she’s not scared of a damn thing, especially not me.”
“Tell us whatyouhave fetched about your wife thus far,” Fetch prompted, lifting his wife’s hand to his mouth.
“Where to start,” he said, sure they didn’t want that full answer just because of the time it would require.
