“Yes. I’ll have to put the address in the navigator. That’s usually a dead giveaway.”
Smiling at the door ahead, she squeezed his arm. “You’re funny, too.”
“Too?”
“On top of being a guardian, I mean.”
They’d reached the top of the landing and Tucker was beginning to worry that she’d mistaken him for someone else. “Oh, I’m not…” he started, battling the urge to play along. “What do you mean by a guardian?”
“I mean you, of course. I could feel how much you wanted to protect me downstairs. Even now you’re worried I’ll trip or something, aren’t you?” she asked. He didn’t have a chance to answer because she continued without a breath. “Mother says there are two kinds of beings. Guardians and those who are meant to be guarded. She tells me I’m the second type, but…” Her voice fell to a whisper. “I secretly wish I could be the first. Everyone wants to be a hero, don’t they?”
“Oh.” He chuckled. “I’m not a hero.”
“And I’m not mad, even though they call me Mary the Mad. Sometimes I just really need to scream, you know?”
“I believe you.”
Her face warmed, her unseeing eyes glued to his neck. “Thank you.”
With that, she tugged him into the office, leading him to a small, antique bench on one side of a delicate, Victorian-looking desk. He managed to tear his eyes from the girl for a moment, so he could take stock of their surroundings. Violin music whined from an old record player in the corner, expensive knickknacks on every surface, covered in a light layer of dust. Smoke and leather and age filled Tucker’s nostrils and he sucked all of it in abruptly when Mary unexpectedly scooted right into his side, gluing them together shoulder to ankle. Allowing him to feel the gentle swell of her hip and imagine it in his palm. Tugging it forward, pinning it down. Biting.
Tilda stopped in the doorframe, analyzing his and Mary’s positions with an air of distaste. Maybe even some dread. But he had no idea what the latter meant. Only knew he wouldn’t be moving away from Mary any time soon. Not until it was absolutely necessary.
Elias and Roksana entered next and shame swamped Tucker. He’d been so caught up in the girl, he’d forgotten to help Elias. Their downstairs predicament appeared to have worked out fine, however, since Roksana was very much alive. Like before, Elias held his mate’s wrists behind her back, propelling her toward a leather couch on the far wall of the large office. But he slowed his step when Tilda grunted. “You can drop the ruse now, Mister Broody and Damaged. The jig is up.”
“I’m sorry?” Roksana asked, hesitantly.
Tilda sat down behind the desk and lit a cigarette, creating a slow cloud of smoke around her head. “Perhaps you weren’t aware of the ungodly roar you let out when I handed her over to the slayers?” Her laugh was stiff, directed at Elias. “Your prisoner, she is not.”
“Mother talks like Yoda when she’s stressed,” Mary whispered, patting Tucker on the knee and sticking herself even more securely to his side. “Stressed she talks Yoda like Mother.” Her freckles gathered together. “I don’t think I’m doing it right.”
“Yes, you are,” Tucker said huskily, eager to reassure her.
Why was this girl giving him so much attention?
What had he done to earn it and how did he keep it?
Who was she marrying?
“Is the traitor slayer your mate?” Tilda asked Elias.
Elias growled. “I’ve had enough of her being called that.”
“I’m going to take that as a yes,” Tilda drawled around a pull of her smoke. “You’re very lucky I’ve been forced to switch my allegiances or I’d mount your heads on my wall.”
“You’d try,” Elias and Roksana said at the same time.
Tilda sighed. “Do take a seat. My neck is forming a crick.”
Elias positioned Roksana on the leather couch between himself and Tilda. “We brought you the marriage decree,” Elias said. “We’ll exchange it for the game piece and be on our way.”
Mary’s mother opened a desk drawer and removed a red envelope, laying it carefully in the light and tapping it with a long fingernail. The game piece that would prevent Roksana’s death if she could get it to Moscow in time. “This is what you seek. Who will you bring this to? Out of curiosity.”
“My mother,” Roksana responded, looking past Elias. “Inessa. The Queen of Shadows.”
Tilda hummed. “Very well. Then I shall consider this valuable information my last service to the slayers. We’ve had a good run, but beckoned by greener pastures I am.”
“I don’t understand,” Roksana said.
“It’s Yoda-speak,” Mary explained brightly, taking hold of Tucker’s hand and squeezing. Like they were out on a date. What would Mary think if she knew it would be his first? Had she been out on dates with the dude she was preparing to marry? Obviously, she had, right? Did that mean she was stuck to Tucker’s side out of friendship? He hadn’t experienced that particular level of friend zone hell before. The kind that seemed a lot like heaven, except for knowing it would get taken away eventually. That’s what qualified it for a hell circle.