“What was that, boy?” Randall asked, cocking an eyebrow.
“You’ve tried already,” I said. “Nothing came from it. Maybe it’s better to go into it with a fresh pair of eyes.”
“Really,” Randall said. “And just who do you suggest we use as a fresh pair of eyes?”
“WAN, IS it?” Gary asked. “Wan the Dark Hunter?”
“Yes,” Wan said, sitting back in his chair, shackles rustling on his arms and legs.
“Can I just call you Wan?”
“I suppose.”
“Good. Can I get you anything? A cup of water? A hot towel?”
“Really,” Randall said. “This was your plan.”
“Admittedly, it might have sounded better in my head,” I said.
We stood outside the interrogation room, watching through an enchanted window where we could see in but the occupants of the room couldn’t see out. Wan the Dark Hunter, handsome fellow that he was, was chained to a thick wooden chair, a small table separating him and his interrogators.
And what fearsome interrogators they were! Even I was suitably impressed, and everyone knew it took a lot to impress me. Tiggy stood near the back of the room, slightly hunched over so his head didn’t hit the ceiling, massive arms crossed over his considerable chest. He was frowning, and even though I knew it meant he was concentrating on the task at hand, to most everyone else, it looked as if he was contemplating the best way to proceed with a murderous rampage.
Gary, for his part, had decided that the best interrogating ensemble included having his hooves painted a deep purple, with matching streaks through his mane. His eyelashes looked impossibly long, fluttering in a lovely manner every time he blinked. He had a black scarf tied around his neck, black eyeliner under his eyes, and black silk woven through his tail. “I’m a Gothic princess,” he’d whispered to me as we’d made our way down to the dungeon. “He’ll cave in seconds. And it’s also my look of mourning for my relationship with your step-dragon-father. That bastard. I hope he’s suffering.”
I hadn’t even bothered to respond to any of that. I’d learned a long time ago that it’s best never to question a unicorn, given that it usually ended in sparkles or threats of Gore City up in here.
Wan didn’t look intimidated. If anything, he was coolly amused, sitting back in the chair, legs spread out in front of him in a cocky fashion. I wondered if Gary was going to murder him before the day was out. Anything seemed possible.
“Are you comfortable?” Gary asked, voice sticky sweet. “A blanket, perhaps.”
“I’m good,” Wan said, reaching up to stroke the goatee on his face like a smarmy villain. Given that he was a smarmy villain, I wasn’t surprised. I still hadn’t forgiven him for interrupting Ryan’s confession of eternal love to my face and soul on the day the Darks had attempted foolishly to attack Castle Lockes. I had advocated to have him tarred and feathered, but then Ryan had given me this really great fingerblast and I forgot all about it.
Until now.
“His skin should be melted from his bones,” I grumbled to no one in particular.
“Oh boy,” Ryan said, standing at my side, shoulders brushing mine. “Here we go again. Do I need to do that one thing?”
“He’s talking about sexing me up,” I said to Randall and Morgan. “In case you didn’t know.”
A dungeon guard behind us started choking.
“We know,” Morgan said. “Everyone knows.”
“Good,” I said. I leaned over and kissed Ryan on the cheek. “Thanks, but I’ll have to take a rain check. On the sexing. Because we’re trying to be serious right now. Not everything is about butt play, babe.”
He was blushing. I wanted to devour him whole. “You didn’t have to say it like that,” he muttered, glancing back at the guard.
I rolled my eyes. “Like your underlings don’t know that you get laid on the reg. They probably tell stories about how you finally were able to land all of this.”
“It’s good to know his ego’s still intact after the protest,” Randall said.
Yes. That. I was going to have to deal with that. Sooner rather than later. I wondered if it was too gauche to call Tina out for a duel. Did people still duel over things? I’d never been invited to one, so I didn’t know. That made me a little sad. Because maybe people hadn’t invited me to duels because they didn’t like me, just like Tina said. Fine. Whatever. I’d have my own duel and not invite them either! Perfectly mature response.
“What we were talking about again?” I asked. “I was too busy thinking of ways to murder—I mean, feed homeless kittens.”
Morgan and Randall sighed in unison.
“So, Wan,” Gary said. “Do you know why we’re here?”
Wan shrugged. “Not exactly.”
Gary nodded sympathetically. “Of course. How could you? Having been locked up all this time.”
“Ask him if he poops in buckets,” I muttered, even though Gary couldn’t hear me.
“Am I being transferred?” Wan asked.
“Am I being transferred,” Gary said, pacing in front of the table. “That’s what you’re asking me.”
“Yes?”
“Was that a question? Because it sounded like a question.”
“I don’t know?”
“You. Don’t. Know.” Gary stopped pacing. “What do you know?”
“What?” Wan asked, sounding confused. “Listen, I don’t—”
“No,” Gary snarled suddenly, stomping his hoof on the floor. “You listen.”
“Eep,” Wan squeaked.
“I’m a loose cannon,” Gary said, baring his teeth. “Everyone down at the precinct says so. Loose Cannon Goth Princess Gary they call me.”
“Oh no,” I moaned. “He’s role-playing again. Whose idea was this?”
“Yours,” Randall said. Like an asshole.
“Loose Cannon Goth—” Wan started.
“Did I say you could call me that?” Gary roared, spittle flying from his lips. “My husband just left me because he couldn’t handle being the spouse of a cop. Do you think I have any fucks left to give?”
“No!” Wan said shrilly. “No fucks!”
“You’re godsdamned right I don’t,” Gary said. “And if you think I’m bad, you just wait until my partner gets ahold of you.”
Tiggy let out a low rumble.
“You remember him, don’t you?” Gary whispered as he leaned forward, his face inches from Wan’s. “He’s the one that made sure Lartin was spread evenly along the cave wall.”
Wan’s eyes were wide.
“Spread him like butter,” Tiggy agreed. “Bloody, bloody butter.”
“So badass,” I whispered fervently to Ryan. “I know them.”
“I know you do,” Ryan said, patting me on the shoulder.
“Do you want to be Tiggy’s bloody butter?” Gary asked.
“No!” Wan said, looking like he was starting to cower.
“Then you’ll tell me what I want to know?”
“Yes!”
“Good,” Gary said. “I only have one question for you. And you’re gonna be my good boy and answer it, aren’t you.”
“Such a good boy!”
“I know you are. You ready?”