“We’re in the human world, girl. What did you expect?” Val snapped.
Tetra raised her hands. “Okay, okay. No need to be mean.”
“Their shows are good, too.” Val snorted. “I bet you grew up watching Real Housewives of Avalon Town.”
“I grew up catching squirrels with my bare hands,” Tetra growled.
Val sighed. “Sit down. I think you’ll like this show.”
Tetra didn’t move from her perch on the armrest, and Val didn’t push the issue. She scrolled to an icon depicting a tall man with unbelievable cheekbones and selected it.
“What’s this?” Tetra asked.
“It’s a series. Fiction. A story,” Val explained. “It’s an adaptation of… Actually, never mind. It’s about a detective who solves crimes in London, a city in the human world.”
SHERLOCK, the TV screen announced.
“That’s the detective’s name,” Val told her.
“Strange name for a human,” Tetra muttered. “They’re all called John.”
Val laughed.
“What?” Tetra demanded.
Gunfire tore from the speakers, and a confused montage played on the screen: men in army uniforms, machine guns, frightened children, and the yells of combat. The images resolved into a human male waking up in bed, panting from a nightmare.
“That guy’s named John.” Val pointed.
Tetra’s lips twitched into a smile. “See? I told you!”
Val laughed, and Tetra joined in.
Val squinted at the mirror propped up in the corner of her bedroom. She hadn’t had time to hang it, but it worked to check the outfit Isabella had chosen for her first date.
“Isabella, you’re a pro,” Val announced.
Her waist-high black slacks featured a belt of salamander skin, which would look like snakeskin to humans, and a cast-iron belt buckle Frode had forged for her. The high ankles displayed the Doc Martins she’d exchanged for her hobnailed boots. Her leather trench coat dipped to her calves, and she shoved her hands into the pockets, allowing the front to gape open and display a gray turtleneck. Plain, simple, and comfortable, but there was no denying that the belt buckle drew attention to her small waist and the coat accentuated her height.
She adjusted her wig, her favorite voluminous afro, and exhaled. “You can do this, Eiravel,” she informed her reflection.
Her phone buzzed with a text from Booker.
I’m outside :)
Val took another steadying breath, grabbed her phone and money clip, and thundered down the stairs.
She paused in the kitchen to shoot a last text to Blair.
You guys still okay?
Fine. All quiet.
Blair reassured her.
Val tucked the phone away and resolved not to think about work for the next few hours. She’d spent the morning in the smithy and could only hope she’d gotten the sooty smell off in the shower. No time to worry about that now.
She tacked on a smile and opened the front door. A cloud of cologne rolled into her house, and she sneezed.
“Oh, sorry.” Booker grinned. “I didn’t know you were allergic to sexy.”
Val stared at him.
“I’m so sorry.” Booker moaned and buried his face in his hands. “I can’t believe I said that.”
Val burst out laughing. “What was that?”
“Awkwardness,” Booker admitted. “So much awkwardness.”
“I thought I was going to be the awkward one.” Val paused. “This is my first date.”
“Really?” Booker laughed. “I’m honored. Also, you’re doing great. Clearly. Especially compared to me.”
Val grinned. “I’m relieved you’re chill about that.”
“I’m too busy dying of embarrassment to worry about anything else,” Booker admitted. He offered an arm. “Shall we?”
