Page 21 of Fang Fatale

We leave him standing beside the lamppost.

By the time we reach the cottage, Dandy has already demolished half a cinnamon roll.

“That went better than last time.”

“Last time?”

“The last missing person he tracked.”

She grins.

“Tried serving a subpoena to a werewolf during the full moon.”

I stare.

“He broke two ribs.”

A beat.

“And one shoe.”

I laugh.

A real one this time.

Back inside, I sink onto the sofa with another scone warming my hands.

I know I should be frightened.

I should see Alaric Grimhaven as another extension of Leland's reach.

Another man determined to drag me back to the life I escaped.

Instead...

I keep thinking about the upside-down newspaper.

About the detective who admitted almost nothing...

...yet somehow managed to tell me everything.

Against every instinct I possess...

I am very, very curious.

CHAPTER 5

ALARIC

The aftermath of a scone is not as tidy as you’d think. Poppy seeds find their way into the lines of my palm, and buttery residue softens the calluses on my thumbs.

I wander the block, giving the impression of idly killing time, but my mind is anything but idle.

Longfellow, Birdie.

She’s not what I was promised. Not the cowering hysteric or erratic disaster with “delicate sensibilities” Leland Brooks described during our first meeting at a coffeehouse in Thistlebrook.

If anything, she’s a shuttered house with too few lights on—or else she’s wired the alarms to misfire.