Before the two women could continue their conversation, Hugh tugged gently on the end of Gwen’s braid. “My apologies for interrupting, but you and I should leave shortly. Are you done packing…” He hesitated, eyeing her cautiously. “Um…babycakes?”
Her full-body cringe of absolute horror prompted him to try again.
“Sugar pie?” Upon viewing her expression, he hastily made another attempt. “Er…honey-bunny?”
If she didn’t accept one of his awful suggestions, they’d be here all day. Reluctantly, she nodded in permission.
“Oh, goodness.” Farhanah clasped her hands at her chest and smiled warmly at them, evidently won over by Hugh’s appalling choice of endearment. “Honey-bunny! That’s so cute!”
His amber gaze met Gwen’s, and a faint, wry smile tipped his lips.Sorry, he mouthed, and she only shrugged in response.
In all honesty, she’d forgive Hugh Blacke far worse than a terrible pet name. Sooner or later, he was probably going to figure that out.
Knowing her luck?
Probably sooner.
12
Gwen sat on Hugh’s very nice sofa and blinked tiredly down at the latest listing on her phone’s Crumble app: Morbier, a mild semisoft cow’s milk cheese boasting a distinctive horizontal line of ash that split the wheel in half. Did she want to eat that?
Yes. Obviously. She swiped right, and apparently most other Crumble devotees agreed with that decision, because a cheerful jangling sound heralded additional points in her Cheese Wheel of Fortune.
Under the circumstances, it was hard to drum up her usual level of excitement about the victory. She slumped against the sofa’s back cushions, rubbing her eyes.
They’d only made it to Hugh’s apartment a few minutes ago, far later than expected. After confirming that Sabrina’s witch friend had fixed the hole in Wall Four and removed the inner ladder, Lorrie had settled her passengers into her SUV once moreand joined the extremely long line of cars jostling to exit the Containment Zone. As they’d waited, the three of them had discussed Farhanah’s revelations—they all agreed that the breach probably hadn’t been prompted by simple greed for real estate—before Lorrie tuned her radio to the local NPR station.
Within minutes, the host had interrupted the station’s regular programming to share breaking news of a zombie breach. The official governmental and SERC explanation for that breach: sabotage by common human agitators with unclear motives. Investigators believed all the perpetrators had been killed by the zombies they’d loosed upon the Zone, alongside far too many innocent residents.
Hugh, Lorrie, and Gwen had exhaled in simultaneous, heartfelt relief. After that report, waiting patiently in traffic had become far easier despite their mutual fatigue.
Officials had finally gotten the Zone’s doors and drawbridges operating normally by the time Lorrie’s vehicle approached Wall Four, although several dozen soldiers stood at attention near the access point, just in case they might need to dispatch any zombie stragglers. One swipe of the troll’s identification card, and the three of them had finally been able to reenter the outside world and head to Hugh’s car, which had remained seemingly undisturbed.
After Lorrie had secured the second ladder to her SUV’s roof and departed with a final cheerful honk, Hugh had driven himself and Gwen to his apartment building. Upon their arrival, they’d chatted briefly with Haziq and asked him to keep her late-night visit to Hugh private. The young doorman had politely agreed in a tone that nevertheless communicated a very clearduh. Then, at long last, she and Hugh had taken the elevator to his penthouse, where he’d settled her on the couch, told her to eat oruse whatever she wanted in his home, and left to make up his guest room for her.
Right now, she only wanted two things: internet access and a few free, quiet moments to gather her thoughts. Even if she couldn’t quite concentrate on her favorite app.
Absently, she scanned the next offering. A pecorino cheese called casu martzu. And normally she’d look up further details before choosing either NO WHEY or LOOKS GOUDA TO ME, but she was too tired for Wikipedia.
She swiped right on casu martzu.Then startled at the app’s blare of sirens and watched helplessly as all the points in her Cheese Wheel of Fortune—accumulated over months of swiping!months!—drained away to nothing.
Holy shit, what the actual fuck was casu martzu?
One quick browser search later, she got it. Oh, did she ever. So much so that her stomach was churning, on the verge of open revolt at the mere description of that cheese. When Hugh reentered his living room, she was taking deep breaths and doing her best not to picture anyone eating such a cursed creation.
Still, she couldn’t resist sharing some of her terrible new knowledge.
“Hey. Fun fact.” She had to swallow hard. “Did you know that maggot larvae can jump up to six inches when disturbed?”
“I…” He trailed to a halt, a stark line carved between his dark brows. “No, I didn’t know that. Did you…did you see something in my home that made you—”
“No, no.” She smiled weakly at him. “It’s a cheese thing.”
That revelation only deepened his frown.
“I see,” he said, in the cautious tone of someone who did not, in fact, see.
She sighed, nodding to her phone. “I should have swiped left.”
