Page 29 of A Shade Too Far
“That’s what I have wards for,” she reiterated. Tatiana was one of the few Ohrists who had the means and ability to ward up her place. Laurent and Naveen had them too, but that was due to connections in their respective lines of work. I’d asked my friend Ava if her bowling alley Stay in Your Lane had them and she’d laughed. Even the Bear’s Den, Vikram’s speakeasy, was ward-free.
“Be smart about this,” I said. “If nothing else, Emmett can alert us to anything weird while you’re busy painting.”
Tatiana glared at me like I’d stabbed her in the back. “I can’t create with people constantly around.”
Laurent pointed to an upstairs window where her assistants, Marjorie and Raymond, were walking past, their arms full of boxes from an art supply store. “They come and go regularly. And given how much shit you give them, they probably wish you dead on a regular basis and yet the wards let them through. Wards aren’t infallible if you don’t maintain them properly.”
“Then I’ll shore them up.” Tatiana’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t have the space for overnight guests.”
“I’ll clean out one of your four spacious and underused bedrooms,” Laurent replied, unruffled.
I swung my head to Tatiana.
She pulled her robe tightly around her and crossed her arms. “What about the hotline I installed at your place so people could report suspected enthrallments? If Emmett isn’t there to answer it, that would be a real shame.” She said it with the same smug certainty as a poker player laying down a royal flush.
Ooh, nice play.
“I switched the number from a landline to a cell phone,” Laurent countered. “More convenient that way, and it ensures Emmett can be anywhere and never miss a call.”
Tatiana’s face fell.
Laurent winked at me, and I barely contained my laugh.
“I’m not paying you.” Tatiana was grasping.
“Ma chère tante.” Laurent kissed her hand. “I wouldn’t dream of taking money for this.”
“You’re too much like your father for your own good,” she said crossly, but her hand lingered in his for a moment.
Whistling jauntily, Laurent picked up the tray and carried everything into the house.
“Miriam.” Tatiana squeezed my arm.
“No way. I’ve pushed my family far enough. A golem would send them over the edge. If things become unbearable with Emmett, Laurent and I will take shifts here at your place.”
“Very well.” She stood up with a swoosh of fabric. “Naveen has been a good friend to Laurent when many others failed him. Don’t kill him. Anything short of that is acceptable.” Head high, she sailed into the house, passing a returning Laurent with a haughty sniff.
He gently caught her arm, his dark head bent close to her silver one, and said something quietly. Her posture softened, then she tossed her head and continued inside.
As Laurent’s shadow fell over me, I picked up my purse. “I can stay here and keep watch while you get Emmett and then we’ll go together to Naveen’s house. Sound like a plan?”
He opened his mouth, but instead of speaking, rolled his shoulders back as if steeling himself, which was odd, because if anyone had reservations about going to see Naveen, it was me. Then Laurent bit his lip, studying me.
I ran a hand over my mouth in case I had a smudge of food there. What the heck?
He flexed his fingers at his sides, inhaling deeply before exhaling into a kneel in the grass and looking up at me through his dark lashes. “I believe I owe you an apology first.”
Whoa. I glanced around, ready to tell him to stand up because this was embarrassing and overkill, but no one else was outside. I gnawed the inside of my cheek. All right. I deserved it, so why not hear him out? “Proceed,” I said, waving my hand in royal benediction.
He schooled his expression into a grave seriousness. “I—”
I cleared my throat. “I was promised prostration.”
He sat back on his calves. “I’m on my knees. Is that not enough?”
“It might be with some, but I hold you to a higher standard of follow through.”
He sighed in an exaggerated fashion and bent over, his forehead touching the ground and his arms out in supplication. “You were right and I was wrong.” As corny as his actions were, his voice was serious, his words matter-of-fact. “I am deeply sorry for my hurtful accusations. I should have believed in you because you always put the best interests of the people you care about ahead of your own. Next time I’ll do better.”
