As a joke, he named himself Clayton Kerr when the Black Hats swore him in. He was a golem and molded from, well, clay. Ancient magic animated him, and enchantments gave him the look and feel of a human.
A bald human.
Beauty stores stocked fewer wigs than he rotated through during any given week.
Colors to match his every mood. Styles to fit any occasion. And their little travel boxes. So many boxes.
Vanity, thy name is Clayton Kerr.
That was before you factored in the company uniform, which was very Men in Black.
Expensive black suit, simple black tie, shiny black shoes, starched white dress shirt.
“Ace catch up to you yet?” He didn’t release me. “He’s not you, no one is, but he’s a decent partner.”
The unintentional dig slid between my ribs, right into my heart, but I had my reasons for going AWOL.
“He checked out my store, exploded the ovaries of my shopgirls, and left me his card.”
“You hid from him?” Clay’s eyes crinkled at the corners. “You?”
The power I once wielded stirred, blinking awake, rattling the chains I used to bind it within my skin.
But I was stronger than the hunger. I controlled it. It did not control me.
Anymore.
A roughness sanded the edges of my voice from the effort. “Rue Hollis hid from him.”
“Rue is a white witch,” he murmured, understanding what that meant. “How many years?”
“All of them.” From the day I cut ties with Black Hat to this one. “Put me down, Clay.”
“Not until you talk to Ace.” Regret pinched his lips, but he didn’t loosen his hold. “Director’s orders.”
Golems with Clay’s agency were so rare as to be unheard of, which was how he ended up at Black Hat. Most of his kin were mindless dolls who followed instructions to the letter, but Clay had full autonomy until his free will smashed face-first into the brick wall that was a direct order from his current master.
By choice, he wouldn’t hurt a fly, but he had done things under orders that twisted even my stomach. It shouldn’t have been held against him, shouldn’t have landed him in Black Hat, but he was only as moral as his current master allowed him to be.
“I understand.” I bent as if to kiss his cheek but licked his forehead instead. “I’m sorry, Clay.”
The magic animating him shorted out, his eyes clouded over, and he froze as solid as a statue.
The only way to best a golem was to smudge or erase the shem, one of the Names of God, written on his forehead. Any imperfections disrupted his flow of power, immobilizing him. And yes, they were all male.
Only someone he trusted would get anywhere near it, which made my betrayal cut both ways.
I broke his grip with a twist, hit the pavement with a grunt, then walked to my car with a slight limp.
Unless I wanted to run again, I had no choice but to retreat home, where I was safe.
Safer.
There were no absolutes for people like me.
Black Hat’s arrival in town had just proven that.