Vlad and Nina glared at me, now both shoulder to shoulder on the couch, Sampson wedged at the end.
“Fun!” I said, injecting as much joy into my voice as I could.
No one moved.
“Okay,” I said on a sigh, “I’ve got to get to work, so . . . call me if you need anything.”
Nina reached out and clamped a frozen hand around my wrist. She looked up at me, her eyes an impossible black, wide and mournful. “Tell the world I said hi please.”
I blinked. “Um, okay.”
Chapter Four
Nina and Vlad weren’t the only ones upset by our recent weather pattern. As I pulled out from the underground parking garage, it was obvious that confusion riddled the streets. People walked aimlessly around, faces upturned, brows furrowed. I poked my head out of the car and spotted some teenagers sporting bare arms and naked bellies. They zipped past on bicycles, hooting and hollering and loving the sun. Generally, I feared ax murderers and the zombie apocalypse way more than good weather, but for me and my fellow townspeople who were used to seeing spontaneous drag parades, roadside preachers, and trees that spoke, heat was an uncomfortable anomaly and I wasn’t entirely sure what to do with myself. After a few lights I began enjoying the natural warmth so I rolled down all the windows and played “Walking on Sunshine” on an endless loop.
It’s going to be a good day, I told myself.
I was still hopped up on vitamin D and walking on Katrina and the Waves’ special brand of sun-kissed pop perkiness when I skipped into the police station vestibule, and Alex made a beeline for me. He had a wad of file folders pushed under one arm and an expression on his face that killed any hope for a big musical number.
“I’ve been waiting for you. I need to talk to you about the Sutro homicides.”
As I knew Katrina and the Waves never sang about homicide, the music in my heart came to a slamming stop. “What, exactly, about them?”
It was then I noticed the heavy bags under Alex’s eyes; that the glistening blue of his irises had dulled with lack of sleep. “Is everything okay?”
“Sophie!”
Will’s accented voice pinged through my head as I blinked at Alex, trying to make sense of what had just happened—Alex in front of me, Will’s voice behind? I blinked and Alex stiffened; I felt Will’s hand on my shoulder. I spun and gaped at him.
“Where did you come from?”
Will grinned and jutted a thumb over one shoulder. “Lift. I thought you’d be at work by now.”
I looked from Will to Alex and back again, while the heat seemed to ratchet up at least sixty degrees. I felt the sweat bead on my upper lip and at my hairline, could feel my carefully straightened curls begin to spring back into place.
I don’t belong to either of them, I told myself. I’m walking on sunshine....
Uh-oh.
Nothing was said between the two men. There were no overt dirty looks or scowls, but even without taking a single step, Alex and Will seemed to be doing that menacing staring circle that dogs about to sink incisors in do. I should have felt glorious to be the prize that they growled over, but all I felt was an awkward, both-of-these-men-have-seen-me-naked tension. The ex-boyfriend, the almost-boyfriend—and me, not knowing which was which.
I licked my lips and forced a bared-teeth smile, patting Alex on the forearm. “Alex, you remember Will.”
Alex’s ice-blue eyes were fixed on Will’s hazel ones. “You don’t usually forget the guy who stabbed you,” he said evenly.
“Right, mate, sorry ’bout that. Misunderstanding with the whole Vessel–Fallen Angel thing.” He shot out a hand. “We good?”
I tried to read Alex’s expression as his gaze scraped over Will’s outstretched hand. I tried to decipher the nuance in Will’s stance, the inflection in his voice.
“Yeah,” Alex finally said, giving Will’s hand a quick, dismissive shake. “We’re good.”
“Great!”
Will clapped his hands, looking expectantly from Alex to me. “So, what are we Sherlocking this week?”
I shot him a tight-lipped, keep-your-stupid-English-trap-shut look. He just kept grinning.
“We”—Alex pointed to me and then back to himself—“are working on a homicide. Multiple. Nothing that would interest you. No fires, nothing about guarding the universe or whatever.”
Will, firefighter by day, Vessel Guardian by later that day, narrowed his eyes. “I don’t guard the universe. I guard Sophie from the big baddies in the universe. You know, fallen angels and such.”
Alex’s bristle was physical. “I’ve seen Lawson in action. She can take care of herself.”
I jumped in between the two men, who somehow seemed to have gotten closer by the puffing of chests alone. “Um, thank you, Will, for your guardianship. And Alex’s services are excellent, too, and he’s not a bad angel.”