A Mate Worse Than Death (27 page)

“Hmmm, so if I go three days without going on a date with you, you lose?”

“If you go just the two days, we both win. Dinner at Birch and Barley?”

“Very tempting, especially if we do the tasting menu with beer. I don’t know, though, that sounds like we’re fixing the bet. Are you even allowed to bet on something that you could decide?”

Phil got serious. “Tony, the power is all in your hands. If you want to see me, it is up to you. I will do whatever you wish.”

She grinned at first, then she got a little melancholy. “Y’know, Phil, four days ago, I didn’t even know you. Four hours ago, I didn’t know I had a sister stolen by the fae. I honestly don’t know what I want right now.”

He sat by her, his face and body very still. He patted her hand and sat it down beside her on the bed. “I understand. You are overwhelmed, and I am pushing you. I will go.” As he started to stand, he felt her grab his arm and pull him back down.

“Hang on there. I’m not done with you, buddy.” She paused and looked at him. “I need to find out about my sister. I need to know why she is in such pain, and I may need to go find her. I at least want to know whether or not she needs help. She may be happy where she is,” Tony’s despairing look said how little she believed that was possible, “but I feel like she needs me.” She looked into his eyes, “I have to do this first.”

“I understand,” he told her. “And I think, if you’re willing, I can help you.”

She smiled. “You know, I’d like that a whole lot, demon. We’re a pretty good team, you and me.”


“You and I.”

“Grammar nerd.”

“Witchling.”

“That’s Detective Witchling to you.”

He looked at the clock above her bed. “I should go.”


For the first time, she looked at little shy. “I guess you should.”

He cocked his head and asked, “Do you want to be alone?”

She shook her head. “You wouldn’t want to sleep on that really comfy visitor’s chair would you?” She pointed at a device found in hospitals all over the country that could be called a chair and folded out like a bed but acted as a torture device.

“For you, dear detective, it would be my pleasure.”

“This doesn’t count as a date.”

“Of course not. Then we would lose the bet.”

“Just checking.”

He pulled the visitor’s chair over and found the lever that made it a recliner. He pushed it open and draped himself on it so he could hold Tony’s hand. “Sweet dreams, Tony.”

She smiled into his eyes, “Should I dream of you?”

“I’m counting on it.”