Hugh’s discontent over that strategic maneuver remained palpable. Also audible.Repeatedlyaudible.
At his words, loud snickers erupted from the back of the car, where Lorraine and Kip were currently folded up in their seats like oversized pretzels. Also consuming oversized pretzels,fittingly enough, while Gwen sipped the tea Hugh had poured into an insulated mug for her and munched on more rosemary crackers.
“One measly ticket?” Kip snorted. “That’s nothing, mini-demon-dude. Just wait till we get to the carjacking portion of today’s proceedings.”
The hybrid swerved slightly in its lane. “What?”
Oh, for Pete’s sake.
“Kip, I realize the irony of what I’m about to say,” Gwen began, “but please don’t troll the very important, very powerful councilor who agreed to—”
“After that, we’ll execute our planned heist of America’s strategic cheese reserve.” Lorrie’s voice dripped with glee. “We have plane tickets for Missouri and plans to steal a billion pounds of excess Swiss from limestone quarries underneath Springfield, and you’re coming with us, bro.”
Right now, Gwen would have given everything she owned to disappear into a cheese cave forever, in Missouri or wherever that cave might happen to be. Sure, she didn’t have much to offer as payment, but she liked to imagine that certified affineurs—people trained in the cheese-aging process—took some sort of dairy-centric Hippocratic oath requiring them to provide shelter and succor to needy, extremely tired fromage enthusiasts.
“I don’t…” As Hugh grappled with Lorrie’s assertion, the car slowed to a crawl. “What are you talking about?”
“Don’t listen to them.” Gwen reached over from the passenger seat and patted the arm of Hugh’s leather jacket. “The government cheese reserve hasn’t been a thing for decades, and even back then, it was mostly American cheese. No one’s risking jail forthat.”
Hugh shot her a suspicious glance. “What about the carjacking?”
“As far as I know, that won’t be necessary.” She paused. “No promises, though.”
His brows snapped together. “I wouldnever—”
“Maybe you should have Kip and Lorrie explain what’s been happening in the Zone in their own words?” Her encouraging smile kept drooping around the edges, because this drive wasnotgoing well. “I won’t interrupt or try to influence them in any way.”
“And everyone knows we’re terrible liars,” Lorrie cheerfully added around a mouthful of half-chewed pretzel. “So you can totally trust whatever we tell you, Councilor-bro.”
At that blatant falsehood, Gwen choked on her mouthful of peppermint tea.
“Better?” Hugh asked when she’d finished coughing, and she nodded. “Why don’t you rest while your companions give me their statements?”
His sentence might’ve been structured like a question, but it wasn’t one. Instead, it was a reminder of the bargain they’d reached and what she’d promised in return for his cooperation. There was no mistaking that intractable tone or the demand in his words.
Fine. Gods and goddesses knew she needed all the rest she could get.
Positioning the lap strap of the seat belt under her belly, she settled herself more comfortably in her heated seat. As the trolls began their tale, she let her eyelids slip shut at long last and promptly fell into oblivion.
Some indefinite amount of time later, she woke up alone in the blessedly warm car. The engine was off, but apparently Hugh was using the hybrid’s battery to keep the heat running for her.
Dimly illuminated by the first glimmers of dawn, a towering stretch of Wall Four stood just ahead. Before today, she’d have called that wall impenetrable. Only it clearly wasn’t, since the trolls and Hugh were busy positioning and securing a ladder below a large, ragged hole blasted through the thick stone barrier.
That hole had been magicked into existence roughly three hours ago by one of Sabby’s friends, a startlingly powerful fortysomething witch in a motorized wheelchair who’d wisely chosen to do the job, accept her payment, and immediately leave without asking any awkward questions. It was the same hole Gwen and the trolls had used to exit the Zone earlier that morning, via that same ladder, which they’d left hidden behind some nearby bushes.
Second by second, as darkness retreated and daylight advanced, the trio by the wall became increasingly visible, and oh, gods and goddesses, she’d almost forgotten her favorite part of this entire morning. Better than the heated seats, better than the rosemary crackers, even better than the goat Gouda the trolls had kindly set aside for her as a snack.
Helplessly, she stared at Hugh again, the same way she had the first time she’d witnessed the utter, unexpected majesty of Councilor Hugh Blacke, Esquire, in his impromptu disguise. According to his brusque explanation, the whole getup had been a long-ago Halloween gift from his twin sister, Eloise, and was his only available costume. He’d reluctantly unearthed it, tags still attached, from the depths of his closet.
Ten minutes later, he’d emerged from his bedroom suite a changed demon. His unruly dark hair had been gelled into a smooth pompadour, his dark honey eyes lined thickly with kohl. That wasn’t the best part, though.
True to his reputation, when he did something—however reluctantly—he apparently did itright.
Against all reason and everything she knew about starchy, rule-bound Hugh Blacke, he was wearing a freakingcrop top. Sleeveless. Skintight. Asymmetrical. Black, with white buttons running down the front—and also down the sides of his matching black pants.
His abdomen was pale and taut.
She couldn’t seem to look away. Couldn’t seem to think clearly.
