“Then we should probably fix that, don’t you think?” Fearghas glances around us, then holds both hands over Clarance’s face.
After a moment, the warlock’s features are no longer his own. Instead, he’s a young teenager, sporting a massive zit right on the tip of his nose.
I snort, and Bronywyn quickly averts her gaze. Rainey, looking smug as fuck, beams at Fearghas, who has obviously redeemed himself for her glamour.
Clarance clearly has either no idea something is amiss, or he doesn’t care. Since he doesn’t strike me as someone who misses much—if anything—I’m guessing it’s the latter. “Thank you.”
“I didn’t do it for you,” Fearghas retorts, releasing him.
Still, the warlock nods. “Thank you, nonetheless.
Bronywyn clears her throat. “Tarnley, Clarance, and I will head south, while you three go north, toward Eira’s.”
Fearghas claps both hands together. “Sounds great.”
“No stopping in for a drink, Fearghas. Not until we’ve checked things out.”
He looks positively disappointed. “Fine.”
“Stalk on your own time.” Rainey nudges him with her shoulder.
“Easy for you to say, wet dream. Your target is here.” He points to Elijah, and Rainey slams her fist into his arm.
“Call me wet dream again, and I’m going to kick you so hard your nuts will be coming out of your mouth.”
Every single one of us with a dick feels her threat, though Fearghas appears to be completely un-bothered. That or the bastard has a death wish because, instead of backing off like any normal person would do, he blows her a kiss.
“Meet back here in four hours?” Bronywyn interrupts, likely saving the fae from getting his ass beat right here on the street.
Rainey nods. “See you then, auntie.”
The three of them turn and begin to walk down the street, while the three of us do the same in the opposite direction.
We’re not walking for two minutes when Clarance clears his throat. Both hands in his pockets, his posture is that of the awkward teen he’s portraying. “She called you auntie, so I’m guessing she knows your true bloodline?”
Bronywyn doesn’t bother to look her father’s direction. “Not all of us like to keep secrets from those we claim to care for.”
“I won’t apologize for my actions,” he replies. “Not when they were what kept you alive.”
“I would have been fine, even if you had told me,” she replies. “I just wouldn’t have spent my entire life hating you.”
Her response quiets him, and he falls into step directly behind us. “You okay?” I ask her, careful to remain quiet enough that he can’t hear us.
“Fine.”
I open my mouth, but the words die in my throat. There’s no point in arguing the lie. She’s been closed off ever since the succubus den, barely speaking and certainly not opening up. Honestly, she’s behaving like the old Bronywyn did, and the distance between us terrifies me.
“Did you run into the dark fae?” her father calls out.
Bronywyn stops and mutters, “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” under her breath before whirling on him. “Yes. I did. And, she was wearing the face of my dead mother and your dead wife. But, since you keep pressing me, I’m guessing you already knew that.”
His mouth flattens, revealing that her accusation is completely accurate.
“You knew there was a dark fae running around, wearing the identity of your late wife, and you didn’t think to warn her?” I demand, moving closer.
Clarance shifts his gaze from Bronywyn to me. “Actually, I was unaware until yesterday when I was told of a woman resembling my late wife having a hand in taking out a succubus queen.”
“You were unaware until yesterday?” Bronywyn chuckles, but there is no humor in it. “Then tell me,father,if you are days behind our information, what good are you to me?”