Page 110 of Tracking Snow

"I need exactly seven minutes to change, then we can go find some HAM assholes and make them tell the truth this time," I say, tossing my keys into the little ceramic bowl by the door.

"As long as you don’t get suicidally combative again," One says, following me in.

He came and hung out at Poison Apple’s bar for the last couple hours. Despite the disappearances, the place was a madhouse. Packed with people wanting to stick together and wanting to support Poison Apple after what happened. Ariel is in charge of the social media, so we got to make our own official statement, directed by Rap, about Carolee being dropped on our door in such a horrific manner.

The statement was that we would not be intimidated, and we would continue to be a safe space for all mage, fae, and humans alike.

Ariel’s on closing duties for the rest of the week. With Ryder promising to look after her, I feel she’ll be okay, so I can work on the real problem. Though no one knows she’s fae, so she’s not as much of a target.

The Seven grabs my arm so hard I let out a yelp. When I look at him to see what his deal is, I follow his gaze to the couch.

Lucifer is sitting in the middle cushion like he’s the one who pays rent. Which, rude enough. But the real surprise is the white flutterbun who has chosen to stick around is tucked against his side, one ear resting over Lucifer’s front paw while the hellcat licks the top of its tiny head with slow, deliberate strokes.

I blink.

The flutterbun blinks back.

Lucifer keeps grooming it.

"What the actual faefuck?" I whisper.

The cat, who only last week shredded three pairs of my tights, knocked a full bottle of shampoo into the toilet, and left something unholy inside Ariel’s favorite boot, is cuddling the injured sky rabbit like a fuzzy little nursemaid.

Did someone slip me drugs?

The flutterbun gives a small, crooked flutter of its wings, then settles harder against Lucifer’s side.

For one weird second, my chest goes soft.

Then Lucifer’s yellow eyes cut to The Seven.

His whole body arches. Fur spikes straight up. A hiss rips out of him, loud enough to make the flutterbun startle.

The flutterbun launches into the air, flying lopsided across the room before landing on the bookcase in a wobbling heap. It shakes itself once, then peers down at us from beside my leaning stack of unpaid bills.

Lucifer yowls.

"What is he doing here?" One demands with such force, I’m taken aback.

My gaze swings from the cat to One. The way he said it made it sound like he’d discovered a secret boyfriend I’d been cheating on him with.

"This is the devil cat, Lucifer, who I’m sure I’ve told you about." I narrow my eyes at the cat. "He’s my arch nemesis. Lucifer is obsessed with this apartment building. No matter how far he strays, and you’d be shocked to hear the crazy places he’s ended up, he always finds his way back here." I shoot him a dark glare at that. Lucifer glares right in return.

It’s only then I notice One staring at the cat as if he seen a ghost.

"One? You okay?"

"Get it out of here," he says in a strange, raspy voice.

"I mean...I’ll try."

The cat has One super on edge. Maybe he’s superstitious about black cats? I’ll ask him once I get rid of the little jerk who has no doubt peed in my boots already.

After pushing up the window all the way, I grabbed the broom and started our age-old and horrible game of Cat Hockey.

Just when I thought I was getting Lucifer out of the apartment, he'd feint left and dive under the couch, and I'd have to work the broom handle in after him until he shot out hissing.

The chase takes us to the top of the fridge, behind the television stand, then under the couch again.