all that superior hearing comes from, I guess?”
His eyes gleamed amber, hopefully in appreciation for my superior sense of humor, and comforted, I curled up on the edge of the bed and fell asleep, one hand hanging off the side of the bed, still resting on his fur.
T he banshee wailed , and shrieked, and screamed at me that Jack was going to die. I shook her, and then I slapped her, and then—I couldn’t get her to shut up—I shoved a banana in her mouth.
Wait. What ?
I sat bolt upright in bed, suddenly wide awake.
“A dream,” I said, blowing out a sigh. “More like a nightmare.”
Jack, human now, stood next to my bed holding out my phone. He had a weird grimace on his face, and I realized he was looking at my hair. A quick glance into the mirror over the dresser revealed that I looked like a poodle caught in a windstorm.
Not my best look.
Sadly, not my worst look, either.
“It’s Alejandro for you,” Jack said, grinning at my attempt to calm my hair down a little.
“What? Why?”
Special Agent Alejandro Vasquez, originally from Guatemala, and currently with P-Ops, the FBI’s Paranormal Operations division, was so hot that butter probably melted when he walked by the dairy case in the grocery store. Not quite as hot as the tiger currently invading my space, but almost. He was scary good at his job, married to a garden witch who lived in Ohio, of all places, and he’d helped us out with our evil witch problem a few months ago.
Alejandro, like Jack, had fought on the side of the Atlanteans. He had zero jurisdiction in Dead End, but he’d pulled some strings to help us adopt Shelley, so he was high on my list of good guys.
I took the phone, and said “coffee?” to Jack, with extra desperation, after I glanced at the clock and saw that it was only six a.m.
“After we hear what the Fed wants,” Jack said, folding his arms across his chest and leaning against the wall.
“Do you want me to put it on speaker?”
“No need. Superior—”
“Tiger hearing, I get it.” I raised the phone to my ear. “Hey, Alejandro. Caught any evil basilisks yet?”
It was kind of a running joke, since we’d found out his rookie assignment had been to capture basilisks, which are about the size and shape of a chicken crossed with a lizard.
“Funny girl. I hear you’re related to the president of NABR,” he said in his warm voice with the seductive accent that his wife must really, really love.
Jack growled at me, and I rolled my eyes. “I can’t help it. He has a great accent.”
“Thank you, your accent is delightful, too,” Alejandro said. “Now about the missing banshees?”
“How do you find out about this stuff? I just learned I had a grandmother that was a banshee yesterday .”
Miffed, I threw the covers back, causing Lou to hiss at me, and got out of bed.
“I’d tell you, but then I’d have to kill you, and I don’t really want to have to take on your tiger boyfriend,” he said, amusement plain in his voice.
“I’d kick your ass, Fed,” Jack called out.
“He’s not my boyfriend,” I said.
“Yet he is in your bedroom at six in the morning? Perhaps I need to have a chat with the tiger about the proper way to treat a lady,” Alejandro said smoothly.
“Perhaps I need to send your wife a sympathy card for being married to an asshole,” Jack said, snatching the phone from me.
I put my hands on my hips. “What do you—oh, never mind. I need coffee for this phone call, anyway. You two have your bromance chat and then we’ll get back to whatever Alejandro is calling about.”
I made myself a hot cup of vanilla-toffee—thank you, gods of Keurig!—and drank most of it while they talked smack at each other. The funny part was that Jack and Alejandro really respected each other. In fact, Alejandro had even offered Jack a job as his partner, which I was very glad he’d turned down.
I studied Jack as he looked out the kitchen window, talking to Alejandro. It was a very nice
His eyes gleamed amber, hopefully in appreciation for my superior sense of humor, and comforted, I curled up on the edge of the bed and fell asleep, one hand hanging off the side of the bed, still resting on his fur.
T he banshee wailed , and shrieked, and screamed at me that Jack was going to die. I shook her, and then I slapped her, and then—I couldn’t get her to shut up—I shoved a banana in her mouth.
Wait. What ?
I sat bolt upright in bed, suddenly wide awake.
“A dream,” I said, blowing out a sigh. “More like a nightmare.”
Jack, human now, stood next to my bed holding out my phone. He had a weird grimace on his face, and I realized he was looking at my hair. A quick glance into the mirror over the dresser revealed that I looked like a poodle caught in a windstorm.
Not my best look.
Sadly, not my worst look, either.
“It’s Alejandro for you,” Jack said, grinning at my attempt to calm my hair down a little.
“What? Why?”
Special Agent Alejandro Vasquez, originally from Guatemala, and currently with P-Ops, the FBI’s Paranormal Operations division, was so hot that butter probably melted when he walked by the dairy case in the grocery store. Not quite as hot as the tiger currently invading my space, but almost. He was scary good at his job, married to a garden witch who lived in Ohio, of all places, and he’d helped us out with our evil witch problem a few months ago.
Alejandro, like Jack, had fought on the side of the Atlanteans. He had zero jurisdiction in Dead End, but he’d pulled some strings to help us adopt Shelley, so he was high on my list of good guys.
I took the phone, and said “coffee?” to Jack, with extra desperation, after I glanced at the clock and saw that it was only six a.m.
“After we hear what the Fed wants,” Jack said, folding his arms across his chest and leaning against the wall.
“Do you want me to put it on speaker?”
“No need. Superior—”
“Tiger hearing, I get it.” I raised the phone to my ear. “Hey, Alejandro. Caught any evil basilisks yet?”
It was kind of a running joke, since we’d found out his rookie assignment had been to capture basilisks, which are about the size and shape of a chicken crossed with a lizard.
“Funny girl. I hear you’re related to the president of NABR,” he said in his warm voice with the seductive accent that his wife must really, really love.
Jack growled at me, and I rolled my eyes. “I can’t help it. He has a great accent.”
“Thank you, your accent is delightful, too,” Alejandro said. “Now about the missing banshees?”
“How do you find out about this stuff? I just learned I had a grandmother that was a banshee yesterday .”
Miffed, I threw the covers back, causing Lou to hiss at me, and got out of bed.
“I’d tell you, but then I’d have to kill you, and I don’t really want to have to take on your tiger boyfriend,” he said, amusement plain in his voice.
“I’d kick your ass, Fed,” Jack called out.
“He’s not my boyfriend,” I said.
“Yet he is in your bedroom at six in the morning? Perhaps I need to have a chat with the tiger about the proper way to treat a lady,” Alejandro said smoothly.
“Perhaps I need to send your wife a sympathy card for being married to an asshole,” Jack said, snatching the phone from me.
I put my hands on my hips. “What do you—oh, never mind. I need coffee for this phone call, anyway. You two have your bromance chat and then we’ll get back to whatever Alejandro is calling about.”
I made myself a hot cup of vanilla-toffee—thank you, gods of Keurig!—and drank most of it while they talked smack at each other. The funny part was that Jack and Alejandro really respected each other. In fact, Alejandro had even offered Jack a job as his partner, which I was very glad he’d turned down.
I studied Jack as he looked out the kitchen window, talking to Alejandro. It was a very nice
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