than roaming the continent on your own.” Ridge chewed on his lip as they rounded the corner onto his street. “And I’m not enthused about the idea of leaving you here, either, especially when there’s so much interest in you right now.”
“I don’t suppose there’s a luggage compartment on those fliers that you could stick me in.”
“Uh, they’re not really made for long-distance voyages. Just ask Ahn about the tube.”
“The tube?”
“Never mind. You’ll find out when you ride in one.” Ridge squinted down the street toward his house. It had come into view and was still standing. There wasn’t any smoke billowing from broken windows. “If you’d agree to do the work of my machine guns, we might be able to mount you in front of the cockpit.”
Sardelle was trying to imagine the feasibility of this—thus far, she had only seen the fliers from the ground—when she caught his quick smirk. “Ah, that was a joke.”
“Let me mull on things. I might come up with something.”
“Don’t get in trouble on my behalf, please.” She already worried they would find trouble at his house when they arrived.
Yes, about that… You might not want to bring the homeowner in just yet.
Jaxi! Why haven’t you been talking to me? And what do you expect me to do with Ridge? We’re only a half a block away.
I’ve been using a lot of effort to remain hidden. Those women had some sort of device with them that could detect magic. I had to figure out how to thwart it. I don’t care for all these new technological advancements. This century is complicated. As for your pretty pilot, take him for a few laps around the block.
He’s not a dog, Jaxi.
Fine, but I can’t be blamed. I was only defending myself. I’m pretty sure those women were looking for me specifically. They kept muttering about swords.
“Jaxi says the house may not be as we left it,” Sardelle said, following Ridge up the walkway. “The intruders weren’t tidy. She’s trying to clean up now.”
Ridge stopped with his hand on the door. “Do you know how strange that sounds?”
“The idea that Jaxi would do something so helpful as cleaning? Or the fact that she can?”
“All of that, yes.”
Sardelle put a supporting hand on his arm, in case he needed it when they walked inside. He opened the door, and a picture frame zipped past, inches from his face. He blinked slowly as he turned to watch it float across the room and affix itself to the wall above his stove. Then his eyes lowered and stayed closed. He took a deep breath.
Sardelle winced and walked inside for a closer look. You made this mess? Or the intruders did?
It was them. But possibly they didn’t start throwing things around in disgust until I started dropping pots on their heads.
The awful green-and-yellow couch didn’t look any more appealing when it was lying on its back, its cushions thrown across the room. Chairs and tables were likewise overturned, and Ridge’s picture collection was all over the floor and dusted with something white. Oh, a flour canister had been knocked over, the powder strewn everywhere. Pots and pans littered the floor in the kitchen. Something that looked like a smear of blood decorated one of the counters.
A cold draft rustled Sardelle’s dress. Ridge had opened his eyes, but he was still standing in the doorway, staring.
She grimaced. “Are you dumbfounded because of the mess? Or because your pictures are rehanging themselves?”
Ridge shut the door, removed his cap, and scraped his fingers through his hair. “All of that, yes,” he repeated.
He managed one of his quirky grins for her. It didn’t seem forced—he had looked more stunned than truly upset—but that didn’t keep her from feeling bad. This was her fault.
“Let me check on Jaxi. And make sure she’s still snuggled in with your mug collection.”
“My what?”
“You have a number of glass steins under the bed. We’ve, ah, discussed them.”
“Oh, I was wondering