Magic Bleeds

A little light danced in Saiman’s eyes. “How peculiar. Was it a practical joke?”

 

“Yes, it was.” And the joker would get a piece of my mind as soon as I managed to detach myself from the furniture.

 

“I found that, in cases like this, the easiest way out is to remove the trousers. Of course, it might be a soluble glue. Would you like me to take a look?”

 

“No, I would not.”

 

Saiman’s lips quivered a little. “If you’re positive.”

 

“I am.”

 

“It really is no trouble.”

 

“Examining my butt is not included in our agreement. My parchment, please.”

 

Saiman passed me the plastic bag and rose. “Do let me know how it turns out.”

 

“Go away.”

 

He chuckled to himself and departed. I took a gulp of my coffee. Cold. Eh. At least my blueberry doughnut would taste the same hot or cold. Except for one small problem—I’d left the doughnut on the outer side of the desk and getting to it would require me to get up.

 

My phone rang. I picked it up.

 

“Acetone,” Andrea’s voice said. “Dissolves everything. I found a gallon of it in the armory. We soak the chair and you’re good to . . . Oh shit. Incoming!”

 

I dropped the phone and grabbed my sword.

 

Curran stepped through the doorway.

 

“You!”

 

My attack poodle surged off the floor, teeth on display.

 

Gold sparked in Curran’s eyes. He looked at the poodle. The dog backed away, growling under his breath.

 

I ground the words through my teeth. “Leave my dog alone.”

 

Curran kept looking.

 

The dog backed into the wall and lay down.

 

Curran strolled in, carrying some sort of garment. “Nice dog. Love the sweater.”

 

I’d mince him into tiny, tiny, tiny pieces . . .

 

“I changed my mind about the catnip.” He held up the garment. A French maid outfit, complete with a lacy apron.

 

Slayer’s hilt was smooth in my fingers. Beast Lord or not, he did bleed.

 

The poodle growled.

 

Curran hung the outfit on the back of the door and approached my desk. That’s right, come closer. Closer. Closer . . .

 

He struck at the desk, preternaturally fast. Tiny hairs rose on the back of my neck. I barely saw it. One moment his hand was empty, the next it held my doughnut. He bit it. “Mmm, blueberry.”

 

In my mind, his head exploded.

 

“Hard to protect your food with your ass anchored.” He saluted me with the doughnut. “When you’re ready to talk, call me. You know the number.”

 

He walked out.

 

 

 

 

 

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