Page 31 of A Shade Too Far
“Not at all.” I put my phone away. “What’s up?”
Apparently, the assistants had been briefed on the golem, and in typical Tatiana fashion, it was expected that they accept his presence without reservation. The girl fidgeted with her bracelets, asking halting questions about what to expect.
I put her mind at rest, glad to have a task to focus on—and that when Emmett waved at me from the window, Marjorie went in to meet him with a straight spine.
After a quick stop to shore up Ladytown’s flood protection, I headed into the kitchen to greet the golem.
“Hiya, partner!” Emmett shone in a kilt and sparkly flip-flops. He grabbed my arm and steered me into the hallway with a pointed look. “It’s a good thing I’m needed here, because I was two seconds away from killing the wolf.”
“You don’t say.” I flinched as Laurent slammed a suitcase of Emmett’s things on a kitchen chair.
“He doesn’t have a television. I had to beg Jude to give me her old laptop so I could watch shows on it. He cleans. Obsessively.” Emmett ticked items off on his fingers. “His taste in music is horrible. I got excited when he sat down at the piano, thinking it was finally karaoke time, but he played some snore fest that didn’t have lyrics. Called it a…concerto. You know what I called it? Shit. I told him he could bite my smooth red aaaah—” There was the sound of footfalls behind me and Emmet’s eyes widened. “A-Team. I’m almost finished the third season and the similarities between me and Faceman are scary.”
Dream on.
“Hey, Laurent,” I said without looking over my shoulder. “You ready to go?”
The shifter slammed a hand against Emmett’s solar plexus, shoving him up against the wall. “You have the attention span of a fruit fly, but if you don’t want the life span of one, you will ensure no harm comes to my aunt. And make sure she doesn’t leave the wards. Those are direct orders.”
Emmett blinked in a quick rhythmic sequence, like a machine registering some programming. Once a golem was assigned a task, it became their prime directive. Well, that’s the way it was supposed to work. Emmett always grumbled when I brought him along. “She’s safe with me,” he said. “You don’t have to go all B. A. Baracus.”
Laurent looked at me with an expression of utter bewilderment, then shook his head, before I could explain, and took off at a brisk pace. “No. I don’t care. Allons-y.”
I’d made it halfway down the corridor before calling back. “Hey, Emmett. Who am I?”
He popped his head out of the kitchen. “Hannibal, obvs.”
The leader of the A-Team. I nodded. Good man. “Carry on.”
