expected him to, but he still felt guilty, like he was doing something illicit. Which, of course, he was. But not because of the fire. At least, he hoped it wasn’t because of the fire.
He asked for a unit in back, saying he didn’t want his stuff to smell like smoke, and the attendant accommodated him without question. The unit was just two down from the trash bins where he hoped Colt was still waiting.
After unrolling the carpet on the floor of the unit and moving his boxes into it, Oliver unpacked the inflatable mattress and pump and set it up before heading to the trash bins. At first glance, he thought Colt had taken off, but the boy scrambled out from between the bins and the wall after evidently seeing that it was Oliver. It had probably taken Colt a moment to recognize him out of uniform.
“Hey, Colt. So I brought you some stuff, and I’ve put it in that storage unit over there, see?” He walked back to the opening between the rows and pointed, waiting until Colt moved forward cautiously to see where he was pointing. Oliver held out the key. “You can use it if you want. It’s not meant for living in, but you can stay here overnight if you promise to stay out of sight if anyone comes around. Can you do that?”
Colt stared at the key and eyed the open door again warily.
“Come on. I’ll show you what I brought.” Oliver walked back to the unit, and in a moment, Colt followed, skittish and scuttling, moving in short bursts. He had definitely learned to stay out of sight in however long he’d been on his own.
Inside the unit, Colt gaped at the bed and blankets, but was even more impressed by the cooler of food and cold water Oliver directed his attention to.
“There’s more water in here.” Oliver showed him the box. “And some hand wipes. And there’s a lantern that works on batteries. There’s also some stuff to read if you want it. I don’t know if you read.”
Colt was already busy tearing into the sandwiches and fruit in the cooler. In a few minutes, he’d settled on the little bed, eating his lunch and looking with curious interest at one of the comic books Oliver had taken out of the box. It looked like the makeshift hideout was a hit. Now he just had to figure out a longer-term plan. And determine exactly what Colt was—and whether, as Oliver suspected, he was the cause of the morning’s fire.
Oliver Connery was up to something. If that was even his name. He’d had a guilty look on his face the entire time Lucy had been talking to him. And what better cover would some kind of paranormal arsonist have than being a volunteer fireman?
She loosened the top two buttons on her shirt as she sat in her car outside the Civic Center building after picking up the list of eyewitnesses Nora had finally compiled. For November—or was it December now? That might explain all the irritating lights and decorations she kept seeing around Jerome—it was awfully warm. Except it wasn’t the weather. It was her damn wyvern thermostat.
Lucy swore softly. “A fireman? He’s a goddamn fireman. Firefighter. Whatever.” But “man” was the part her stupid hormones were focusing on, for sure. He’d been suited up in a heavy bunker jacket and loaded down with gear. It wasn’t like he’d been shirtless and posing for a “Hot Firemen of Jerome VFD” calendar, for God’s sake. But she’d already seen him shirtless. “Dammit.” She didn’t need this. She should just stop by Polly’s Grotto in Sedona tonight, pick up some dumb, harmless satyr with an overactive libido and get her itch scratched.
Except that itch increasingly wanted to be scratched by Oliver Connery. Who was probably a fire-starting were-beast.
She’d phrased it that way in her head to remind herself of the dangerous territory she was heading into and shut off her train of thought, but her libido immediately responded with another spike of temperature. You know you want a fire-starting were-beast.
“I do not want a fire-starting were-beast!” Saying it aloud didn’t help. She was never going to be able to concentrate on these eyewitness interviews if she didn’t do something about this nonsense. It was only three o’clock—a little early for drinking, but Polly’s had the distinction of being a sort of free-floating alternate dimension. There were always a few patrons inside from other time zones. Lucy could take care of business and be back in Jerome by full dark to hunt.
She stopped by the villa to change into something that would be easy to get out of and back into—a knee-length shift in black stretch velvet—and took her hair out of the braid before heading to the Grotto. Any hope of slipping in under Polly’s radar was dashed almost as soon as Lucy arrived.
“That time of the month, is it, darling?”
Lucy gritted her teeth as she turned from the bar where she was waiting for her drink. Polly was sporting lavender locks this evening—and a silk sheath dress in the same color that was so transparent it ought to have been illegal.
“I’d say the same to you, except I’m pretty damn sure you’re on the prowl all the time.”
Polly blinked matching lavender eyes, an amused smile tugging at her lips. “So you’re admitting you’re on the prowl, then. That’s refreshing. Until your accidental transformation when Lucien ascended—or rather descended to the throne, to be precise—I had the impression you were a bit of a cold fish.”
Lucy snorted. “I thought you were the one who was a fish.”
Polly looked offended. “I am not a fish. Sirens are not fish.”
Lucy’s drink had arrived. She put her money on the bar and picked up the highball. “Honestly, Polly, I don’t care if you have a mermaid’s tail and scales or slippery shark bits. I didn’t come here to socialize with you. I’m on a job tonight, and I have about thirty minutes to—” She felt her skin flush as she realized what she’d been about to say.
Polly laughed. “I have just the boy for you. It is boys you like?” She grabbed Lucy’s hand before Lucy could move it out of reach and dragged her through the misty club to a set of booths in a dark corner.
“Finn, meet Lucy.”
From one of the shadowy booths, a figure peered out—and instantly seemed to create his own bioluminescence. Lucy swallowed. Finn was about as far from human as a creature could get while still maintaining a human appearance—but what an appearance. The glow seemed to be coming from inside his pale green skin. He looked like a ghostly Channing Tatum.
Finn rose and smiled. “Pleased to meet you, Lucy. Won’t you sit down?”
Lucy turned toward Polly and murmured, “What am I dealing with here?”
“Finn is a kind of deep-sea undine,” Polly said without attempting to be discreet. “An electric mer-eel, if you will. He has a unique talent.” She pushed Lucy into the booth. “Why don’t you two kids get to know each other?”
Lucy glared at Polly’s back as the siren turned and flitted away, trying to retain her dignity as she sipped her drink. “Sorry. I don’t know what Polly was thinking—” Lucy’s words cut off on a gasp as Finn took her hand while he slid back into the booth. His touch was like a light surge of current that traveled up her arm and over her skin in a tingly ripple. It was as if he’d instantly licked her all over then traced it with a violet wand.
“Is
