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"I-I know. Sorry. Is Mat--Eden there?"

He said nothing.

"Olivia," the voice said quickly. "She goes by Olivia now. I'm sorry. I'm just--I need to speak to her. Please. I know it's late--early--but I really need--"

"Who is this?"

"I-I'm a friend--a client of Aunika. One of her girls. From the clinic."

"If you know who I am, then you don't need to beat around the bush. Liv has spent two days in the hospital because of Aunika and her 'girls,' and she's recovering with some much-needed sleep."

"Lamiae," the girl blurted. "I'm one of the lamiae. I'm sorry. I'm just...I'm not accustomed to--"

"Get to the point."

Every time he was curt with the girl, I had to resist reaching for the phone. Gwynn was right--I may know they're fae, but I see teen girls, and right now I heard a lost girl in trouble.

"They call me Melanie," she said.

"What matters to me is that it's three in the morning, and if you so desperately need to speak to Liv, you'll tell me what it's about before I hang up."

"Something's wrong at the clinic. There's--"

"Why are you there at this hour?"

"Looking for Aunika. One of the others saw a light after midnight. We thought Aunika might be back. But I can't get in. There's cold iron blocking the doors."

"Isn't there always?"

"Not the main doors. She just puts it on her office and her apartment because there are fae who'd like to hurt her."

"Why?"

A soft hiss of frustration, reminding me what Melanie really was. "I'll answer all your questions later, Arawn. Right now, something's wrong. I can't get past the doors and I...I smell blood."

"All right. Thank you for the information."

"Wait! You're not--she's not coming?"

"Whatever happened in there will wait until a decent hour."

"But--"

"If you were so concerned about Aunika, maybe you should have returned the message Liv left for you this morning."

"I--"

"If you want to speak to Liv, wait at the clinic. She'll show. Eventually."

He hung up, handed me the phone, and rolled out of bed. He didn't ask if we were actually going to wait until morning. He didn't need to.

"You make a very good hard-ass," I said. "You know that."

"I don't get nearly enough practice, so I take advantage of every opportunity. Long-term job training."

I smiled and grabbed my jeans as he tossed them my way.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE


Tags: Kelley Armstrong Cainsville Fantasy