Finn didn't agree with her. He was too busy stuffing his face to chime in.
I took a bite. The ice cream was a cool, soft, creamy contrast to the warm, heavy richness of the apricot bars, and both melted together in my mouth in a symphony of flavors. Jo-Jo was right. I'd outdone myself again.
We were scraping up the remains of our dessert when the front door to the house banged open. Heavy, familiar footsteps sounded, and a moment later, Sophia Deveraux enter the kitchen. Her black Goth clothes looked out of place among the pastel appliances, like a storm cloud suddenly passing in front of the sun.
"Want some dessert?" I asked, fixing another bowl of apricot bars and ice cream for her.
"Um-mmm." Sophia grunted yes and sat down next to Jo-Jo.
Finn waited until Sophia was halfway through her ice cream before he asked her the inevitable question. "Any trouble picking up the body?"
Sophia's flat, black eyes met his green ones. "Nuh-uh."
The Goth dwarf 's version of no.
I looked at Sophia's clothes, but I couldn't see any blood spatters on her T-shirt, jeans, or boots. Even though the fabric was black, I was good at noticing that sort of thing.
But Sophia's clothes were spotless as always. The truth was I didn't know exactly how Sophia Deveraux disposed of the bodies I sent her way. Didn't know if she buried 'em, burned 'em, crushed 'em, or put 'em in cold storage. Hell, I didn't even know where she took the remains in the first place.
But the grumpy Goth dwarf could get rid of evidence like it had never even existed. DNA, hairs, fibers, blood.
Not a thing remained after she got through cleaning up a murder scene. I'd often wondered if Sophia had the same Air elemental magic Jo-Jo did, if she used it to help her destroy evidence. In addition to smoothing out wrinkles, Air magic was also good for disintegrating things like flesh or sandblasting blood off a floor. But I'd never seen Sophia do any sort of magic, Air or otherwise, never felt any kind of power crackle off her. Another mystery I'd never been able to puzzle out, along with why Sophia's voice was so broken and raspy. She was only a hundred and thirteen, far too young for her body to be failing her already. Dwarves could easily live to be five hundred or older. Sophia Deveraux wasn't forthcoming with any answers, but still I wondered.
Sophia finished her cobbler, pushed her bowl back, and looked at Jo-Jo. "Movie?"
"I paused it," Jo-Jo said. "Still on the TV in the den, if you want to finish it."
Sophia nodded, got to her feet, and walked into the next room. I grabbed her bowl to rinse it out in the sink.
I reached for the faucet to turn on the water -
And someone screamed.
I whirled around, one of my silverstone knives already sliding into my right hand. Another scream rang out, followed by some frantic rustling. Sophia sighed and stepped out of the den. A moment later, Violet Fox lurched into view.
The girl looked no worse for wear, despite her ordeal.
The only hint anything violent had even happened was the crusted blood that coated her sweater. And the fact that her black glasses were just a tiny bit off center on her nose. Finn hadn't fixed them perfectly. Or maybe Jo-Jo had straightened the girl's nose more than it had been before. Occasionally, the dwarf would throw in a little rhinoplasty while she was working her healing Air magic.
An added bonus, if you asked me.
Violet Fox stared at the four of us, surprised and further startled by our presence. The girl's eyes fell on a knife on the kitchen table. She darted forward, picked it up, turned, and brandished it at us. "Who are you people?"
Chapter Eleven
I slid my silverstone knife back up my sleeve and ran water in the dirty bowl before I turned to face the college girl.
"Sweetheart," I said in a cool voice. "That's a butter knife. You couldn't even file your nails with it. Put it down before I take it away from you."
"Who are you people?" Violet Fox asked in a shaky voice, still clutching the pitiful weapon. She stepped back until her body pressed against the refrigerator. If the door had been open, she probably would have stuffed herself inside, like a box turtle retreating into its shell. "Where am I? What do you want with me?"
I sighed and looked at Finn. He was much better at making nice than I was. He stepped forward, his hands held wide. A charming smile showed off his white teeth to their dazzling perfection.
"You're somewhere safe," Finn said in a calm tone that could have soothed an angry grizzly. "We're not going to hurt you. We saved you from that dwarf in the parking lot at the community college, remember?"
Shadows turned Violet's eyes an even darker brown, and she twitched her nose, trying to see if it was still intact.
She remembered, all right. The knowledge bruised her features just like the dwarf 's fists had. Jo-Jo might have healed all the physical damage from the attack, but Violet Fox wasn't going to forget the emotional trauma anytime soon. If ever. Something else I was all too familiar with.
Violet Fox didn't look anything like me, of course, but for a moment, staring at her was like seeing myself at thirteen again, just after the Fire elemental had murdered my family. I'd had the same haunted, wounded look that the other girl did right now. I pushed the memory away.
Finn crept a little closer and turned up the wattage on his smile. "We don't mean you any harm. We just want to ask you some questions about your grandfather. His name is Warren, right? Warren T. Fox?"
Doubt flickered in her dark, haunted eyes. "Why do you want to know about my grandfather?"
"Because your grandfather used to be an old friend of my dad's," Finn kept up his calming tone. "His name was Fletcher Lane. You came into the Pork Pit today asking about him, asking about the Tin Man, remember?"
Some of Violet's panic slackened, and she studied Finn with a lot more interest.
"C'mon," Finn said. "If we wanted to hurt you, we would have done it already. We just want to talk. Promise."
It was the same smooth voice he'd used to talk so many women out of their panties. Including me in my younger, more foolish years. You'll be so much more comfortable if you get out of those wet clothes. Let me help you zip up your dress. Whoops, did I just spill coffee all over your jeans? Guess you'll have to take them off.
And it worked. Violet Fox never stood a chance against the sheer, overpowering, slightly smarmy charm of Finnegan Lane. She lowered the knife and studied us all again, carefully this time, without fear clouding her gaze. She stared at Finn the longest.
"You look exactly like your dad," she said. "Or at least an old photo my grandfather has of him. Same eyes, same hair, same nice smile."