Chapter Twenty-four
~
“They ought to charge ya with firin’ a weapon illegally, endangerment, assault—”
“I was pro—”
Cordiz pointed a long troll finger at Hale. “Don’t. That was stupid. Ya could end up with a monitor on yar ankle, stuck at home for a year. Put a damper on yar life.”
“But he was protectin’ himself, right?” I asked.
“He stole a law enforcement officer’s gun to do it,” she snapped.
“He wasn’t usin’ it,” Hale mumbled.
“And he gave it back, right?” I asked.
“This isn’t the wild west,” Cordiz snarled.
“Uh, yeah it is,” Hale said. Odd he was speakin’ up for himself. “That mob didn’t look too tame.”
“A council of clan leaders will be sortin’ thin’s out shortly,” she said. “Ya’ve already shown yarself to be a troublemaker.”
“I’m hungry,” Hale said. “Let’s go eat.”
“Dinin’ in tonight,” Cordiz said.
“Hotel food?” I mighta shrieked a little.
“Their food stinks, the servings are tiny,” Hale added.
“I’m keepin’ ya out of trouble. Ya got one more mornin’ of hoedown nonsense and no tellin’ what ignert business ya’ll get into in four hours.”
“And the banquet,” I added.
“Like I’m lettin’ ya attend—”
A growl rolled off Hale’s chest. “Try to stop me.”
For a good ten count the troll and my dumb sibling held a stare down. Because I know how stubborn Hale can be, my mind spun, figgerin’ how to let Cordiz correct herself without dishonor.
“It’s just food. Don’t even have to leave the statehouse.” Best I could come up with.
“And drink. Sober ogres can be fools. Wine-slopped ogres—”
“I wouldn’t go there.” Hale was growlin’ again.
I’ve only heard him growl a few times in his whole life. If I were Cordiz, I’d pay attention to it. I gave her the best worried-eyes look I could to warn her. She shifted her stare with Hale to me. As if I was in the battle of wills.
“Ya oughta be supportin’ me here,” Cortiz snarled. “Yar ignert sibling’s already under Greater Council sanction. Shootin’ a fool in the chest ain’t a leviticus dictate, but he’s broken common law, and he’s on the edge of really tickin’ off important ogres.”
Hm. Where would Ike and Aunt Nuel fit in that gaggle? Oh, no. I turned on my most vicious expression, not that it’d make any sense to Hale. “Don’t say it. Don’t even.”
Cordiz gave me a curious look. My face instantly flashed volcano hot. Last thin’ I wanted was our shadow for the next couple weeks thinkin’ what I think she was thinkin’.
~
Hale
~
I stood, picked up Mama’s fob off the coffee table and headed for the door, done with all the chattin’. I’m half ogre, and hungry. No one was keepin’ me away from real food. Cordiz began flappin’ her mouth as though she might imagine she’s the boss of me. Phft.
I hadn’t returned Beky’s text yet. I should be considerin’ what I should tell her. That’d take all the brain cells I have. I’m not a master of communication. She’d already heard about me shootin’ that ignert fool. Geesh. Ya’d think the media’d have somethin’ more interestin’ to blah blah blah about. Fools. Hm. Musta been some reporters in the stinkin’ mob. Maybe.
Bele caught up with me, gave me a side glance that might’ve meant somethin’ to someone who cared, that could recognize its meanin’ in the first place. I was pressin’ the call for an elevator when Cordiz caught up with us. She hadn’t managed to sling back into her enormous cannon holster, get on her dark blazer, or even festoon her feet back in those hikers. She appeared almost like a proper troll. What might the bosses in the Rangers threaten their agents with to get ’em in those horrible thin’s?
A proper troll wore a colorful vest over a more colorful button-down. Certainly no hikers. Unless maybe they planned some rock climbin’. There were a few folks in the elevator, so that’s maybe why Cordiz brushed against me to get inside first. Only a guess. Noted she adjusted a more reasonable-sized automatic on her waist as she passed me.
Wasn’t missed by the three ogres already on the lift. I think that’s what was meant by their eyes gettin’ a bit wider, eyeballs leanin’ toward her midsection. The two bulls, surprisin’ly weren’t focused on her upper section. I have to really struggle not to study Cordiz’—bazoombas. Okay. Maybe I’m impressed with her overall look. The hen ain’t hard on the eyes.
Oops.
Bele studied me hard. The witch. An enormous grin crossed from cheekbone to cheekbone. That is one facial feature I’ve been taught to recognize.
“Don’t call me that,” she whispered.
Witch.
~
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