Free Heir of the Dog Black Dog by Hailey Edwards

Thierry? Dear? What happened?”
    “Who else is here?” I managed.
    Her warm hands pushed the sticky hair from my face. “In the building or on the grounds?”
    “In the building.” I opened my eyes. “Someone was in here. He spoke to me.”
    “He?” Her pencil-thin brows slanted. “There are no male personnel in the building currently.”
    Bracing on my elbows, I raised my shoulders off the floor. “How about civilians? Fugitives?”
    “One fugitive.” Mable stood and helped me to my feet. “A fire sprite Marshal Jenkins brought in earlier, but he’s already been processed.”
    “The Rook.” I snapped my fingers as the voice’s warning clicked into place. “Who is he?”
    “The name doesn’t ring a bell, dear.” She dabbed at the wet spots on her cotton-candy-colored skirt. “You hit your head pretty hard...”
    A borderline growl laced my voice. “I know what I heard.”
    “Maybe it was a sprite.” Careful of the mess I’d made, she picked her way toward the window I had forgotten was there. Probably because someone tacked a dressing mirror over it. “It’s open.”
    Open. Of course it was. Why wouldn’t it be? All hidden windows should be left cracked before they’re covered and forgotten for decades at a time. Whatever. Didn’t matter. I knew what I heard. I also knew someone else I could ask. Raven.
    I didn’t believe in coincidence. First his visit and now this? The two must be related somehow.
    “You’re right.” I cobbled together what I hoped was a convincing smile. “They’re such pests.”
    “They really are.” She shut and latched the window. “I wish that banishment bill would get an approval stamp. Faerie can have the little devils back. I moved here to escape that type of nonsense.”
    Sprites were pranksters. Their idea of amusing ran the gamut from fart jokes to pickpocketing.
    Tiny brains, tiny capers. This stunt was outside their usual scope. Someone else was behind this.
    More fae than I must know Raven was here. As eager as he was to escort me to Faerie, I was equally sure there were those in both houses content with the status quo.
    At the moment, I was too.

Chapter Fourteen
    Sighting a púca meant one of two things. Either you were about to have kick-ass luck, or you were about to get hit with the sucks to be you stick. Call me crazy, but black animals conjure grim tidings in my book, and púcas were extreme luck bringers. Either you got the wicked good or the holy-hella-bad variety.
    Based on the color of their fur, I was guessing they preferred the latter to the former.
    The file on this particular one, Sean Walters, was as thick as my wrist. He was a repeat offender.
    Apparently, he liked mixing his mojo. A touch of extreme luck. We won the lottery! Followed by a jolt of the worst luck ever. What do you mean the ticket was fake? He was just plain cruel. The jerk deserved what he had coming to him.
    Rock music blaring in my bra startled birds from the patch of woods I was investigating.
    Stealth fail . I hung my head. My mind was not in the right place for this today.
    I tugged my phone from inside my shirt, swiped the green icon and whispered, “Hello?”
    “Why are you whispering?” Mai whispered back.
    “Smart-ass.” The wind shifted. I inhaled deeply. Gotcha . “I have to go.”
    “Why?” Suspicion sharpened her tone. “What are you doing?”
    With no small amount of glee, I shushed her. “I’m hunting wabbits.”
    “Fine. Don’t be serious.” Mai huffed. “But what did you do with the couch?”
    “Um, we’ll talk later. Bye.” I ended the call.
    That feathery bastard kept our couch? After digging a notepad from my satchel, I wrote myself a reminder to hire movers, preferably hunky ones, to wrangle the couch back down to our apartment.
    A whiff of púca hit my nose, and I bared my teeth. Here bunny, bunny, bunny.
    After turning off the phone, I tucked it into my back pocket and crept forward.
    Judging by the abundance of rabbit pellets in