“He might have liked it,” I said, bending down to tuck the bag into the waiting tote. As I did, I noticed something hanging under the bed and took a rapid step back.
“Tor,” I said, pointing.
A second later, I stood in the corner, staring at Tor’s broad back. He’d moved faster than I could register to get me there.
“We may have missed one,” Tor said.
Adam swore, and I leaned around Tor just enough to see him come out of the closet with his knife drawn. He glanced at me, saw I was safe, then looked at the bed where I pointed once more.
“Something was hanging down under the bed. It looked like a hand.”
Tor nudged my arm behind him again, and an insane part of me almost laughed. The situation was far from funny, but in all the craziness we’d endured over the last few days, the fey’s level of protectiveness, which rivaled Adam’s, struck me as surreal.
Another fey strode into the room, grabbed the end of the bed, and flipped it to the side. Two infected tumbled out of the bottom of the bed. Before they could make it to their feet, they lost their heads.
“They cut the backing and hid in it,” Adam said, moving closer. He plucked a knife from inside the material and showed it to Tor.
“We need to be more careful. Especially with June. I don’t want to do anything that’ll put her in danger more than she already is.”
Tor grunted as he straightened.
“We will do better,” he promised.
I shot Adam a look.
“Don’t blame them. We’d both be dead already if not for their help. And you’re the one who sent the other fey away.”
Adam flushed and apologized to Tor for sounding like he was blaming him. But as I returned to the bathroom with another fey, I heard Adam say, “Stick close to her. She’s all that matters.”