Thorn Queen (Dark Swan, #2)(17)

"Yeah. I've heard that."

Now I was the one with the incredulous look. "You knew and didn't tell me?"

"Don't jump all over me! I figured you had people to deal with it. And probably those people had people."

"Yeah, well, all of those people are having a little trouble. In fact, I've got to go back tomorrow to help round up some brigands."

"Did you just say 'brigands'? That's very...I don't know. Very 1683."

"Well, whatever they are, they're a pain in the ass and possibly abducting girls." I gave him a quick recap. "You want to go with me and help?"

He shook his head ruefully. "You know, I came here hoping to spend time with you. Instead, I find out you've got a job tonight and are playing sheriff tomorrow."

"Would it help if I wore a cowgirl outfit?"

"It might." He came over to sit beside me and kissed my cheek. "And yes, I'll go tomorrow. I'll even go tonight, if you want the company."

"You see? We are spending quality time together."

"I just hope there's some quality time in bed later to help make up for it all."

"Well," I said haughtily, setting my plate on the table, "that depends on you, huh? I have no doubts about my quality."

He put a hand on my thigh and brushed his lips against my neck. "Oh, Eugenie. Don't push your luck here," he growled, "or you might be late for work."

I grinned and answered by way of a long, deep kiss that probably would have turned into more if my appointment hadn't been so close. That, and we also heard Tim coming in the back door. He never took it very well when he found Kiyo and me in a compromising position.

The two of us drove over near the university, to a quiet residential neighborhood that was split evenly between single-family residences and crowded houses shared by students. As we pulled up in front of a narrow two-story home in need of a new paint job, Kiyo frowned.

"That microbus looks really familiar," he said, eyeing the driveway.

"Really?" I asked innocently.

We got out of the car and approached the house. When we'd cleared the microbus, Kiyo paused to look at its slew of bumper stickers. Question Authority and Roswell or Bust! were only a few. He gave me a sharp, accusing look.

"Eugenie, did Wil Delaney move?"

"Nooo," I said slowly. "But this is a friend of his."

Kiyo groaned. "If I'd known this, I would have stayed home. That guy is insane. And wait-did you just say he actually has a friend?"

"A friend with a legitimate problem. And you can always go wait in the car."

Kiyo said nothing, merely steeling himself as we approached the door. Wil Delaney was a former client of mine. He was a conspiracy theorist who almost never left his home and whose sole income depended on a blog he ran that furthered his ideas on the government, aliens, mind control, genetic manipulation, and a whole host of other wacky premises. He was quite possibly the most paranoid person I'd ever met.

He was also Jasmine's half-brother. It was how we'd met. He'd been the one to hire me to go find her in the Otherworld, long before I'd known anything about Storm King and the prophecy. Apparently, Wil and Jasmine's mother hadn't been so virtuous and had cheated on Mr. Delaney a lot-even with gentry warlords.

About a dozen locks unclicked before we were allowed into the house, which was almost as many as Wil had at his own home. The person who greeted us was a woman, a very young one. She was short with plump cheeks, cropped brown hair, and pink cat-eye glasses. "Is this her?" she asked.

A moment later, Wil's head peered around the doorway's side. He looked the same as last time: pale blond hair in need of cutting, glasses, and skin that never saw the sun. "Yup."

"Who's the guy?" asked the woman suspiciously.

"Her boyfriend. He's cool. Cairo."

"Kiyo," I corrected. I held out my hand to her. "You must be Trisha."

"I prefer to be called Ladyxmara72," she said. "Because really, we're all just anonymous faces in this society, as far as the government is concerned. Plus, Ladyxmara72 is one of my World of Warcraft character names. Ironic that a virtual society like that can be more honest and egalitarian than our own. Or maybe..." She paused dramatically. "It's not so ironic."

Wil stared at her adoringly. Beside me, Kiyo made some sort of strangled noise.

They led us inside a home nearly as dark as Wil kept his. I guessed Trisha-I refused to call her Lady-whatever-worried about the same issues with radiation that he did. Her home was neater, however, and bore slightly more feminine touches, like furniture that matched and a few scented candles. The candles appeared to be homemade, undoubtedly so they wouldn't poison the air with artificial scents or be laced with trackers that the government could use to listen in on Trisha's conversation.

"So," said Trisha as we entered the living room. An episode of The X-Files was paused on the TV. "You're here to take care of the alien problem."

"I'm here to-what did you say?" I looked back and forth between Wil and her.

"Aliens," she said. "My house is infested with them."

I peered around, half-expecting to see E.T. hanging out on the loveseat. All was empty and still. "I don't really understand. Didn't Wil tell you what I do?"