Page 55 of Eye on the Ball

“Deputy Reynolds called me. After we left, Probie told Susan and Reynolds that he’d gone to confront this witch. Celine. He figured she had something to do with Ace’s disappearance. Celine was furious, denied everything, said Ace still owed her money for the bad-luck charm, and hit him with a sleep spell. Probie’s basically been asleep in his truck on the side of a dirt road for all this time.”

“A sleep spell? Sleep sounds awfully close to stasis to me.”

“Susan and Reynolds think so, too. They’re going to go talk to her. For now, they’re taking Ace to the clinic in Riverton, where he can get medical care and IVs to keep him alive and healthy until they can counteract the magic.”

We deliberately changed the subject then and talked about anything and everything except Truckmans. I hand fed Lou bites of chicken and scolded Jack for doing the same thing, laughing.

“My cat is going to get fat!”

“No, she won’t. She’s a hunter. Plus, she rambles off to visit the Pixies and play war games sometimes. She’ll stay lean that way.”

I picked up my gorgeous girl and kissed her silky head. She snuggled up to me and purred.

“I love cats.”

Jack’s smile was slow and wicked. “Lucky for me. Now, while we clean up the kitchen, maybe you can tell me about your delightful suitor, Mutt Truckman.”

I closed my eyes and groaned. “I can’t believe he asked me out again.”

“Again?”

Lou gracefully leapt down, and I stood and gathered plates. Jack filled the sink with hot, soapy water.

“He was just a really nice and horribly shy kid. When we played sports against Riverton, he always seemed to hang around, giving me puppy dog eyes. His cousins were big jocks, trash talkers, the whole deal. But Mutt was sweet. Molly and I would let him sit with us, share our popcorn, whatever.”

“You were always a softy,” he said with so much warmth I blushed.

“Look who’s talking.”

A shadow crossed behind his eyes. “I haven’t had much chance to be soft in my life, Tess. I’m not sure I remember how.”

I flicked my dish towel at him, laughing. “Oh, sure. Tell it to somebody who might believe it, Mr. Philanthropy.”

Jack was rich. The king of Atlantis had given him a pile of treasure for services rendered. Literal, gold-and-jewels treasure. The services rendered had included fighting demons that had attacked the formerly mythical city, which sounded terrifying and well worth treasure, but Jack had refused to accept any reward until King Conlan threatened to cause an international incident over it.

Anyway, Jack gave away money to anybody or any cause that he thought needed it, always anonymously, even to the extent of funding Lizzie’s deputy position.

Later, we were watching my prizedBattlestar GalacticaDVDs (the Katee Sackhoff version, of course) when I remembered to ask about the altercation with Sheriff Lawless at the Dead End jail earlier. Jack filled me in, and I had to smile as he described the Truckmans’ reactions to his shifting shape.

“To be fair to them, you are pretty scary when you’re a tiger.”

“I’m always pretty scary,” he said loftily, and then he plucked me up off the couch and onto his lap, and we quit talking about mysteries for quite a while.

I slept like a baby until seven the next morning, when Eleanor called me.

“What? Hello,” I said sleepily. “Eleanor. Are you calling in sick?”

“Tess, we have a problem.”

Nothing like “we have a problem” to wake a person up. I bolted upright and poked Jack in the shoulder.

“What is it? What’s wrong?”

“Do you remember that perfume bottle?”

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Tess