Ch. 37

  She started as his eyes slowly widened.

  Shit! That came out way harsher than she had intended.

  "A puppy… kicking itself for misbehaving?"

  "Yeah," she whispered. "But extra sad, like a depressed baby basset hound. Cause that,"" she gulped," you know, makes it better?"

  Wade laughed so loud that he had to cover his mouth with his hands, and she ended up hunched in her seat, the skin of her cheeks boiling.

  "I'm a puppy? You look at me and think I'm a sad little puppy?"

  Madison returned, and they both dropped a few bills on the plastic tablecloth.

  "Okay," the dryad lifted both hands, trying desperately to summon some of the anger to insulate her from the embarrassment." I know you're only supposed to compare men to strong, predatory animals because of masculine pride or whatever. But let's call a spade a spade."

  That made Wade laugh even more. He mimed clutching a knife handle sticking out from his chest. "Help! Call a doctor. My fragile ego has been bruised!"

  "Shut up," she threw a balled-up napkin at him, but he batted it out of the air with a shit-eating grin.

  They both stood up and started meandering towards the door, where the sun was just setting. In the city, they couldn't see the sun setting: buildings blocked the horizon. Still, the clouds glowed orange like salt lamps, streaked with warm pinks that swirled into vivacious purples. It was so gorgeous that it looked more like a painting than a real sky.

  Without speaking, both stepped to the side of the sidewalk and took a moment to soak it in.

  "Okay, but seriously," Wade eventually said," think about it. I'm supposed to be out there handling dangerous things so they can't hurt people. Every time I'm in a stressful situation, it's because I'm doing what I was made to do. Right?"

  "Maybe. How harsh is my rebuttal allowed to be?"

  "Abandon your filter."

  "I'm going to ignore that because you don't know what atrocities I'm capable of. We'd need a priest, a healer, and Godkiller here if you wanted to survive me doing that. Still," she forced herself to look him dead in the eyes. This was important. "That sounds like a very convincing thing that Jasque has said to you. The only thing it makes me think about is what your opinion is. Not your retelling of his."

  She was prepared to weather a defensive rebuttal. But Wade just blinked and thought, "I… huh." He took a moment to chew at the inside of his cheek "I think… How about phrasing it this way? I think that there are worse things than being stressed because I am doing important work I am very proud to have done."

  On the surface, that made sense. She had been proud when her days at the retirement community were more about helping people and less about being Agnes's babysitter. The work had been difficult, and she worried about messing it up. Despite that, the stress had left her feeling fulfilled like only hard work could.

  But this was obviously different. It also obviously wasn't worth pushing. Not unless she wanted to make him hostile and defensive. So Shilloh mumbled something vague and let it slide.

  But he wasn't letting her off the hook that easily. "You really don't like Jasque, do you?" Wade said, looking at her with curiosity rather than the carefully marshaled anger she would expect from a protective friend.

  "He's fake," she shrugged, "and comes across as manipulative. Plus, his imitation of 'regular conversation' makes me feel like he has a very condescending view of what a normal person is like."

  The big Were didn't respond immediately, just walked toward her car for a couple minutes. When the words came out, they were spoken carefully. "Not many people can see through the act."

  "Really? Seems pretty obvious to me."

  "Well, you're one of maybe five people in the last few years who caught on immediately."

  She shrugged and let Wade keep talking.

  "I get what you're saying. The thing is, he's not a bad guy. He's just focused on helping as much as he's able. And, to be fair, it is… frustrating," he said, the space between his eyebrows creasing as he picked his next words, "to be told you are responsible for something big and important. And then not being able to do as much as you feel like you're capable of."

  "Well, yeah. But everyone is awful about overestimating what they're capable of. I'm always two days behind when I think I should be able to finish a project. That just means I budget for a couple extra days. I don't become two-faced or look at people like I'm trying to peer through their skins and weigh their organs."

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  He winced.

  "Wait, that's not just me? You've seen it too?"

  "Yeah, I know the look."

  "Then why do you work with him?"

  Before he could answer, a middle-aged man holding a baby called out to Wade. He was a bit short, wore a cardigan with stains on it, and had bags under his eyes. The comfortably haggard look matched well with the baby in his arms.

  "Hey, sorry to interrupt, but I've been meaning to stop at the Bane office. I saw some tracks in my vegetable garden and don't know if it's worth worrying about."

  "Do you have any pictures?" Wade asked, giving her an apologetic look.

  She smiled and stepped to the side. It was hard to be upset after that much good food and the schadenfreude Madison served her as dessert.

  "Yes! Just—just a sec," the father fumbled around one-handed before absentmindedly pushing the baby towards Wade. " Mind holding Kinsie for just a second?"

  Shilloh gasped so hard she swallowed some of her own spit and started coughing. What kind of parent handed their child to a man covered in guns, knives, and the aura of violence Wade possessed.

  Then again, maybe their instincts were better than hers.

  Wade caught her look and rolled his eyes with a good-natured shake of his head. He took the baby in its cute little onesie and pushed out a hip to rest it on, deftly avoiding the various holsters and sheathes. Then he leaned to his side and looked down at the man's phone while gently bouncing the baby.

  Something in her snapped into place, and warmth spread along the skin of her chest and down across her thighs. It was like the blood was pushing against her skin with enough molasses and slow heat that she could all but feel her skin tighten.

  'Oh shit,' Shilloh thought, 'Is this the biological clock everyone has been telling me about?'

  The baby's little fat fingers stretched and moved randomly. It stared up at Wade, interested but unconcerned. The massive killing machine bounced the baby while gentlingly grinning like the whole situation was just another one of those funny work things you play along with when you're in customer service.

  Shilloh blinked several times and wondered how hard it would be to have an ER pull out her ovaries before they went white hot and exploded like a nuclear reactor.

  Shit.

  She hadn't even gotten a chance to be as mad at him as she had wanted to be. That bastard. Thoughts occurred about how to punish him. But none of them were punishments, per se. Also, none of them were PG. Pg-13, or even rated R.

  Shit.

  "Don't worry," Wade said, giving the man a surprisingly genuine smile, "if anything, an herb drake will do your plants good. Just make sure to rattle your door and make some noise when you go outside. It'll spook them, and you won't accidentally step on one. It'll also stop your dog from getting a mouthful of very bitter scales."

  He gave the baby back with a radiant smile.

  "Goodbye, Kinsie; please continue escorting the civilian if you would."

  The little butterball held onto his index finger as her father reclaimed her. Wade shook the baby's hand once, smiling at her, "It was a pleasure to meet you too, madam. But I'm afraid the Good Lady Shilloh has already requested my time."

  The string of cursing in her internal dialogue was sufficiently loud that she barely noticed anything until they were back at the employee and contractor parking behind city hall.

  Fuck that had been a cute baby. And Wade has looked natural holding her.

  It was with great relief and confusion that Bane brought the conversation back to what they had been talking about before that bitch Kinsie had hit her in the hormones like a heavy-weight boxer.

  "Jasque is heavy-handed about day-to-day things, but that's only because he keeps his eyes fixed on the big stuff. He puts everything he is into working towards those big goals."

  She bit the inside of her lip and forced her mind back onto the conversation. "You sure we're still talking about Jasque here?"

  "I see where you're going, but he really is like that."

  "You'd better not say he's one of the greater good kind of people."

  "No, more like he's aware that we have a limited time to make a difference. That small margins can win fights and save lives."

  "And that means you're okay with his serial killer stare because…?"

  She had reached the parking lot but slowed down more and more as she approached her car.

  "Because it's good to have someone who keeps you on the path." He gave her a little plastic smile. One that was extra fake looking after seeing the uncomplicated happiness that baby had pulled out of him. "Plus, I'm the pretty one with the sword. I needed someone to manage the numbers and papers. We're a good team."

  "No, " she said, halting to put her hands on her hips. That's against the rules. Stop it."

  "I'm sorry, what?"

  "Stop talking bad about yourself. That's against the rules. Too many people in the world will try to make you feel smaller than you are. Don't help them."

  "It was a joke."

  She sighed, "Again, I'm sorry if this comes off as harsh, but it really obviously isn't. At least four or five times today, and I'm only counting today, mind you, you've made a joke about not being smart."

  He took a breath but didn't say anything. Just turned so he could close the last few strides to her truck, lean against it, and look up at those gorgeous sunset clouds that faded into the sleepy reds and farewell purples.

  She gave him time to think.

  "Okay," he said once the sun had almost completely disappeared. "You might have a—"

  Then, something started chirping from his belt. He shoved himself off the car and ripped a pager from a case on his belt. Before he had even read the short message, the were pulled a small necklace from under his shirt. It was a disk split like a pie, and one slice was pulsing purple.

  He counted the pulses, re-read his pager, and turned to her.

  "Get in the car. I'm sorry, but I'll need a ride. It's okay, though. The nearest safe shelter is towards the incident anyway. I can drop you off."

  Her stomach dropped. "Crypto attack?"

  "Yes. Not huge, but not small." He used a surge of magic to hop completely over his car and reach the driver's side.

  "Where?'

  "West end market."

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