She stared at the slim package. “Is it going to blow up in my face, like everything else has today?”
“I dunno. It might, judging from what I just walked in on.” Graydon flattened his hands on the table and stood. “Be right back.”
She picked up the package and tore off the paper. The black case was inscribed with TIFFANY & COMPANY. The sense of the bizarre came back stronger than ever as she opened the lid.
A necklace nestled on ivory velvet, a ring of opal cabochons set in gold. The opals were bigger than the size of her thumbnails and had a multihued brilliance unlike any other opals she had ever seen. Tears prickling at the back of her nose, she set the case down and lifted out the necklace. It spilled over her fingers, the stones flashing with intense colors in the candlelight.
Graydon appeared with a bottle of scotch under one arm. He carried another opened bottle in his hand. He nodded when he saw the expression on her face and took a drink. Then he came around the corner of the table and sat by her side again. He slid the opened bottle over to her.
Johnnie Walker Blue. Alrighty. She took a healthy swig and looked at the bottle. Damn, that stuff was smooth. Cutting it with ice would just be wrong.
“A dragon just gave me a piece of jewelry,” she said. She took another swig and handed the bottle back to Graydon. “Have I been added to his hoard?”
He shook his head and drank too. “No, cupcake,” he said. “I’m pretty sure you’ve replaced it.”
SIXTEEN
She stared at the gryphon. “What do you mean?”
“He’s downsizing. He’s decided to sell some businesses, and he’s making plans to either vastly reduce the size of his hoard and move it, or shit, I don’t know, maybe he’ll ditch it altogether. Says he wants to get rid of the ‘white noise.’ ” Graydon rubbed his forehead. “I guess maybe hell really does have a cold day now and then. Doesn’t sound like he’s quite right in the head, does it?”
Her eyes glittered wet. Looking alarmed, he reached out to pat her hand, then seemed to rethink the gesture.
He said, “I know he’s not a romantic guy. I mean having me just hand you your present and all. Even I know that was lame, but I think he’s tryin’. There’s even nice flowers on the table and shit . . .”
His voice trailed off as she just looked at him. He offered her the bottle. Her stomach gave another inexplicable lurch. She shook her head. She folded her napkin and whispered, “I need a friend to talk to.”
The gruff gryphon’s voice turned gentle. “What am I, chopped liver? You beat the crap out of me this afternoon. That pretty much makes us pals in my book.”
She picked up the necklace again, turning it so that it caught fire in the light. “I did not beat the crap out of you.”
“If you had one mean bone in your body, you could have,” Graydon told her. “Now Rune’s scouring the city for a Wing Ding expert for us to train with. We’re all gonna learn to go with the flow or whatever the fuck it is you said you did. Think we’ll look as pretty as you did doing it?”
“Not a chance,” she said, smiling as she looked at him sidelong.
His steady gray eyes smiled back. “That’s what I said too. Con, though. He thinks he’ll look like hot shit, but then, he always does. Guy spends an hour every morning getting his hair just so. I’m tellin’ you. Hair styling products for men? That’s just not right.”
She chuckled. A companionable silence fell between them. She played with the necklace while he sprawled in his chair and drank scotch.
“So,” the gryphon said at last, “tell Uncle Gray all about it. Dragos hurt your feelings or something?”
“Wow, that would be simple,” she said. “Been there, done that, going to do it again sometime soon, I imagine. He said he might be mating with me.”
“Oh,” said Graydon. “That.”
“Yes, that.” The words started tumbling out of her. “We’ve known each other a matter of days, and he’s taken over my life. He demands I trust him, claims that I’m his, like I’m some piece of property. He doesn’t even know what I am and it’s driving him crazy.”
“Well, none of us know that, cupcake. We can’t figure you out and you’re not inclined to talk about it.” Graydon drank some more.
“I have my reasons.” She shivered. “And I’m a half-breed. It’ll kill him if I can’t make a full change.”
“So you two talk about this and he walks out,” said Graydon. “Doesn’t sound quite right.”