Witches, Voids, and Other Sanity Suckers
Epilogue

As the Patriarch drones on and on about additions to the agenda for theParanormal Community town hall-style meeting Sunday night, my eyes drop to myphone. Twenty minutes on how long of a break we should allow. That’s has to besome kind of time-wasting record. Uniting the PC got me an upgraded suite atthe ‘dome and a decorating budget. It also got me an unofficial open-doorpolicy.

One the Patriarch of the Herd has noqualms over exploiting.

Since we took down Annabelle Vardan andher not-Shifters, most of my time has been spent settling disputes, hammeringout a blanket nonaggression treaty, and listening to ideas from everyone in thedamn building. And that’s just when I’m in the ‘dome. My hours away from thebuilding are pretty packed. I don’t know what Greer put in his final report, but I’ve been made the liaison to the HoustonPolice Department, six sheriff’s departments, and the local FBI field office. Atleast I get paid for consultations.

The Patriarch breaks off mid-word when myinner office door flies open and crashes against the wall. Az scurries insideand kicks the door shut before three armed ogres can cross the threshold. Shesets two cardboard cups of coffee on my desk before collapsing dramaticallyonto the arm of my fancy ergonomic chair.

“Ricky,” she groans, fair head fallingonto my shoulder, “you have torescind the whole ‘anything happens to Az and everyone will feel my wrath’ thing.Pretty, pretty please.”

“Is there a problem with how you arebeing treated by our brethren, Reader Stanton?”

Az rolls her head so that she can glareat both of us. “I can’t go anywhere by myself. No one lets me use the stairs;Rachael alerts the maintenance staff every time I step into the elevator. Theogres escort me through the halls. Tegan at the coffee shop refuses to serve meanything but iced drinks.”

“In her defense, you did burn your tongueon the coffee last week. You whined about it for an entire day.”

She bangs the side of her head on myshoulder. “You have to tell them that I’m not a piece of crystal that has to becoddled.”

Withdraw the order that makes her themost protected person in the ‘dome? The heap of chores and responsibilitiesI’ve piled on her as punishment hasn’t done anything to curb her impulsiveness.The only time I don’t worry about her replaceing new and creative ways to putherself in danger is when we’re at the ‘dome.

I think the order is going to stand justa little longer.

“I’ll consider it.” We both know it’s a no.

“I hate you,” she mutters, burying herface in the curve of my neck. The way her lips unerringly replace the sensitivespot along my collarbone tells a different story. She calls it my ‘putty’ spotbecause she’s an expert at manipulation, but she won’t win this one. Not whenher safety is at stake.

“The Air Sprites are hosting theirmonthly potluck dinner. Have you any plans for this evening, Alpha?” the Patriarchasks, eyes sliding away from the woman by my side. Public displays of affectionmake centaurs uncomfortable. Too bad Aztook her sweet time on her coffee run. We could have been out of here long ago.

For the first time in two weeks, thehouse is going to be empty. Jose has a date with his librarian. Steve and Oscarare finishing the renovations on the office space they rented. Hank is working.Greta and Ike are taking everyone else out for pizza and the latest superheromovie.

My plans involve ice-cold beer, butterypopcorn, the couch, the first two seasons of MacGyver, and Az. Time tointroduce Az to classic television and the fine art of binge watching. She’salready proven that she’s a champion cuddler.

“Yes, we have plans.”

The Patriarch smiles knowingly as herises from his padded stool. “Perhaps that is for the best. The Air Sprites arestill not comfortable around Reader Stanton.”

Az raises her head long enough to snort. “Draintwo measly sprites and suddenly you can’t be trusted. It’s not like those werenormal circumstances. It was war. Theogres don’t hold anything against me.”

I tap her nose. This is a familiarargument. “You put one of them through awall. For ogres that’s practically foreplay.”

“I will see you on Sunday, Alpha.” ThePatriarch inclines his head. “Reader Stanton.”

“Tell Daniel I’ll bring that book he wasasking about,” Az calls out. “Bye!”

The door opens and closes. Ah. Peace and quiet. Privacy. Three things thathave been sorely lacking in my life. I wrap an arm around Az’s waist and tug onthe end of her ponytail. When that doesn’t elicit a response, I drop a kissonto her shoulder.

“You can’t pout all night, Princess.”

“Wanna test that theory?” She slides offthe arm of the chair and onto my lap. She grabs one of the cups of coffee andtakes a healthy swig. “Don’t touch that other cup. I told Franx this one wasfor you so he didn’t test it for poison. It’s free of ogre backwash.”

I glance at my phone again. “Everyoneshould have left by now. Ready to head home?”

“Yes. Let’s go see what’s so great abouta guy with a mullet and handy DIY skills.”

I dump her impertinent ass on the floor. Shelaughs as she tosses her coffee cup in the trash and jumps to her feet. “Touchy,touchy. You know, I bet there’s apicture somewhere of a young Rick sporting a mullet.”

“No, there isn’t.”

“Oh, I think there is. Now I know Joseand I are going to have to finish reorganizing the attic.” She laughs as she dances around to the otherside of my desk.

Before I can reach for her, my phonevibrates and lights up. Greer’s name appears on the display. Az scoops up thephone and slides her finger across the screen.

“Good evening, Detective. Aren’t yousupposed to be on a date with Debra in Records?”

I don’t even want to know how she knows that.I shake my head emphatically as she listens to Greer. Whatever it is, and itsounds complicated, we don’t have time for it. We’re off duty. This is our date night.

“Okay. We’ll be there.” She disconnectsthe call and hands the phone back to me. “You heard him. Two Wixias were foundoff Westheimer with a goat head and a male leprechaun in drag.”

“Sounds like Greer needs to throw themall in the drunk tank until tomorrow.”

“None of them remember how they gotthere.”

“Drunk tank.”

“Wixias metabolize alcohol too quickly toget drunk.”

“You, me, couch time,” I say, waggling myeyebrows. “Forget MacGyver. We can watch that stupid Nicholas Sparks box setyou bought.”

“Oh, you must be desperate.” Az circlesthe desk and loops her arms around my neck. She drags my face down for a long,lingering kiss. I sink my teeth into her lower lip the way I know turns herknees to jelly. Soft curves collapse against me. Just when I think she’s starting to comearound to my way of thinking, she pulls back with a gasp.

“Amnesia,” she manages while sucking inoxygen. “Wixias with amnesia. How cool is that?”

Well, hell. There goes date night. Ienjoy almost every second I spend with Az, but I could do without having to seeGreer. Or a leprechaun in drag.

“Fine. Let’s get this over with.”

“It’ll be fun!” She slings the strap ofher purse over her shoulder and prances to the door. “I wonder what the goatwas for. You know, there are quite a few spells that use goats. None that causeamnesia that I know of. Of course…”

As soon as she steps out of the office, Iyank open the center desk drawer. I pocket one of a dozen rolls of antacidsbefore slamming the drawer shut. Standard equipment when dealing with DetectiveKiss Ass and an unpredictable void. Azreappears in the doorway, hands on her hips.

“C’mon, slowpoke. I’m starving. Do youthink we could pick up dinner on the way? That taco place on Kirby is on theway, isn’t it?”

Dinner and a decapitated goat. Not quitethe date I had in mind. Then again, with Az things rarely go according to plan.Perhaps it’s time I follow her example and just start winging it. Embrace theinsanity and all that. Maybe that’s the key to giving up the antacids.

I toss an arm across her shoulders. As ifpulled by a magnet, she snuggles against my side. I drop a kiss on the top ofher head before shutting the door behind us.

“Sure thing, Princess. We’ll stop fortacos. I have a sudden craving for cabrito.”