Page 19 of Scout’s Honor

Bonhi’s thoughts swirled as she tried to figure out what the judge meant. “But-but the government is trying to take it from him.”

“The government says all they want is the land and there is no cabin.”

“That doesn’t make sense. I saw a picture of it.”

Judge Sturn took off her glasses and tossed them on her desk. She gave Bonhi a withering look. “I’ve already had a phone call from the Governor. He wants this dealt with expeditiously. He’s under the impression there is no cabin, and if that’s the case, then I’ll rule in favor of the government today.”

“You can’t!”

“Oh, I absolutely can.”

“Please,” Bonhi said, scrambling to figure out what she could do. “Can I have three days? I’ll find the thing myself.”

“No.”

Bonhi considered this, her mind working quickly. “Your Honor, if you force this to hearing now, you’re guaranteeing a reversal on appeal for failure to assist counsel.”

Judge Sturn scowled. She stared daggers at Bonhi for a full minute, and then she said, “You have forty-eight hours, now get out of my chambers.”

Bonhi turned and left, her heart hammering in her chest.

Had she just made an enemy?

12—Bring Aila Home

Late that night, Dallas bent over a lathe in the workshop of the magical house, working on something that seemed incredibly important, but he didn’t know why. On the beach, that night he’d been shot, before everything had gone bad, he’d found a shiny glass tube the size of an eyeglass case. His buddy had said it was fulgurite—glass naturally created when lightning strikes sand. He’d put it in his cargo pocket, and it’d miraculously survived the gunshot and the chaotic rescue that’d followed.

He’d kept it, never knowing why, until today. When he’d returned to the house after talking with Maze and Thorn and meeting the ghostly Warrior Woman, he’d had a strong impulse to get the fulgurite and then he’d wandered the house until he’d found the workshop. He’d been working there ever since.

Dallas held up what he had made. He’d walked in, not sure what he was going to do, but when he’d found a drawer full of knife blanks, he’d had the urge to make a knife. He’d encased the tube of lightning sand in clear resin, and fastened it onto a knife blank, then shaped it until it was perfect. He gripped it, confirming it was too small for his hand.

Dallas dropped it on the workbench and stared at it contemplatively. He wasn’t stupid. He’d seen the weapon Aven had made for his sister and heard it was called a Resonant, and it was supposed to be more enticing than jewelry to switches. So who had he made a weapon for?

He didn’t dare hope it was the gorgeous glowing lawyer.

Dallas pocketed the item and set about cleaning up his workstation. His phone rang.

“Yeah,” Dallas answered.

“It’s Jameson. What happened with Thorn?”

“Not much. He claims he’s got an everweft spell from a ‘voodoo’ healer in New Orleans named Mama Soline. He wouldn’t shift, though. He didn’t tell us anything and tried to ask us questions about ‘The Cause.’”

“And?” Jameson’s voice was full of anger.

“And nothing—he took off mad and we didn’t get anything out of him.”

“Shit,” Jameson growled.

“Warrior Woman showed up, though.”

“You’re kidding.” Jameson’s voice changed from hostile to interested.

“I never kid.”

Dallas pulled the cuff Warrior Woman had given him out of his pocket and looked at it. Tell Jameson? It didn’t feel right. He put it back in his pocket, wanting to ask his own questions.

“What about your lawyer?” Dallas asked. “Is she part of the operation?”