Gaslight (Crossbreed #4)(24)
When I turned a corner, Wyatt smacked into me and gripped my arms, spinning us around.
“You scared the crazy out of me!” he huffed out, his knit cap askew.
“What’s the hurry? Did a freshy get in?”
He headed toward the stairs. “I’m as hungry as a hippopotamus.”
“For breakfast… or for Kira?”
Wyatt jogged ahead of me. “Mee-yow. Someone sounds jealous.”
“I’m not jealous.”
“Okeydokey!” He disappeared at the second landing, but I kept my slow pace.
It hadn’t escaped my attention that Wyatt had put on his nice jeans—the ones that always got him attention when we were out walking the streets. Instead of a T-shirt, he’d actually selected a grown-up shirt with buttons. Albeit the material was a brown plaid, but he’d still made an effort to look especially spiffy this morning.
Okay. So maybe I was little jealous. Kira’s entry into Keystone was greeted with enthusiasm and puppy-dog eyes, whereas mine had been trial by fire. Granted, she wasn’t a hostile rogue who’d killed men for sport, but what did we really know about her?
She probably couldn’t even boil water.
When I veered right and entered the dining area, my jaw nearly unhinged. Blue’s peregrine falcon was perched on the back of Viktor’s chair. Steel-grey feathers spread from her crown to her wings, horizontal markings running down her cream-colored breast. Bird or not, Blue had a gaze that could make the toughest of men shiver in their boots.
I scratched my neck. “Is she allowed to eat at the table like that?”
Viktor gestured me over. “Come and sit. I cannot force her animal to change if she does not want to. We also have an agreement to eat together, so she is welcome at our table in any form.”
“Just as long as she doesn’t poop on my plate,” Wyatt said, moving his dish a few inches away.
Blue’s falcon twisted her head toward Wyatt and gave him a baleful look.
When I strode up to the table, Claude’s nostrils twitched. He shifted in his seat from the opposite side and watched me. “What are you so frustrated about?”
My jaw set as I circled behind Christian’s chair and sat next to Viktor. “That I wasn’t born with perfect hair.”
Amused, Claude dropped the interrogation. I had to make more of an effort to suppress my emotions around him, and I was still flustered after my morning fantasy.
Claude sat up, the height difference between him and his partner comical. He rubbed his hand down the front of his white tank top and groaned. “I have a long day ahead of me.”
I tapped my black fingernail against the edge of my plate. “Don’t you get sick of cutting hair all day?”
His golden eyes swung up, and he arched a brow. “It’s a trade I’m good at, and it’s rewarding to transform a female or male with something as simple as hair. But don’t get any ideas that all I do is sit around and sniff bleach. I was late to the party last night because a local official on the Shifter Council was speaking privately about a murder he ordered to his second-in-command. It’s illegal for a Councilman to put a hit on someone—that’s not how the system works.” Claude lifted his fork and blew a heated breath on the utensil before polishing it with his napkin. “Viktor and I are pondering what to do with the information.”
Shepherd cleared his throat. “Smart move.”
I slid my gaze around the table, waiting for someone to explain.
When Shepherd looked up at me, he elaborated. “Sometimes we can use information to our advantage by not turning them in. Favors.”
“Blackmail.”
He rubbed the dark stubble on his face. “Semantics. Maybe the guy he killed had it coming, but it helps to have people high up on the ladder owe us for covering their ass.”
“I can see that.”
Claude hooked his arm over the back of his chair. “I have to be careful about turning people in. If my customers got wind that I was snitching, I’d be out of a job, and that doesn’t help Keystone. If we do decide to report him, it’ll take a little work to get the evidence we need. Shouldn’t be hard, but it might be easier to just squeeze the little man for a favor. People in his position fear getting caught; their crimes aren’t taken lightly.”
Gem leaned forward to get Viktor’s attention. “Blue told me something last night about Kira.”
Viktor unfolded his napkin and snapped it before laying it across his lap. “And what have I said about gossip?”
Gem looked genuinely insulted. “It’s not gossip if she flaunted it in front of Blue.”
Wyatt perked up. “Flaunted what?”
Gem ignored him. “What do the symbols mean? I’d ask her myself, but she doesn’t speak English. And by the by, I went through all my books on dead languages in Bulgaria. What you two were speaking didn’t fit any of the patterns I’ve seen.”
Viktor had a few whiskers on his beard that were sticking out in odd directions, begging for a trim. A faded smile touched his lips. “Wyatt and Shepherd have tattoos. Are you going to question them on the meaning?”
“Well, if you’re going to be all enigmatic about it, I’ll just sit here and eat my plate of air.”
Niko rocked with laughter. “Speaking of which, is Kira acquainted with using modern appliances? Perhaps that is the reason for the delay.”