I suppressed a shiver. Colby was a decent guy who’d put himself on the line for me more than once. I did not want Gabrielle to toy with him and maybe kill him, even if she didn’t kill him on purpose. Dragons were hard to hurt, but I hadn’t been kidding when I said Gabrielle was powerful, unstable, and dangerous.
“I’ll tell her you said hi,” I countered. “I know she likes dragons. She goes on and on about how hot Drake is.”
Colby gave me an incredulous look. “Drake? Seriously? The stick-up-his-ass, kowtows to the Dragon Council, too cold-blooded to be a real dragon Drake?”
I nodded, unable to resist teasing him. “You have to admit, he is good looking. Tall, dark, handsome, great ass …”
“Ice in his veins.” Colby scowled. “You’d freeze to death the second you touched him.”
“I don’t know,” I went on. “I have to wonder what would happen when all that ice … melted.”
Colby rolled his eyes. “Are women out of their minds? What’s wrong with a fun, nice guy like me?”
“Nothing.” I relented, stepped to him, and gave him a noisy kiss on the cheek. “I’m messing with you.” I kissed him again, then let him go. “Seriously, though, Colby. Find a nice lady dragon to hang out with. Gabrielle could hurt you, and I don’t just mean break your heart.”
“I know. It’s a challenge.” The sparkle returned to Colby’s light blue eyes. “Dragon women try to eat their mates, you know. We’re used to having fighting our lovers for our lives. Micky’s getting soft, living with you.”
I felt another shiver coming on. Colby’s idea of a good time and mine were obviously different.
He left me to enter the saloon for some of Elena’s good cooking, leaving the door open behind him. A few of the guests eyed Colby askance. He was inked all over in hues of blue, red, and green—beautiful artwork displayed by his motorcycle vest and short-sleeved shirt. His dark hair was caught in a ponytail, his jeans stained and torn.
But Colby, like Mick, knew how to make people like him. He gave a jovial hello to the couple at the table next to his, and soon had them unbending and talking to him. Colby didn’t know a stranger.
“He’s cute,” a mellow female voice said next to me. “Will you introduce me?”
I turned to see a thirtyish woman with dark, curly hair that was cropped short and blue eyes. She wore a maid’s uniform and carried a bucket of cleaning supplies. I’d never seen her before in my life.
“You’re the owner, right?” she said. “The one who’s been in a coma. I’m Flora, Flora Beattie. Cassandra hired me last week. I really like it here.” She gazed at me with eyes like a lake reflecting summer skies. “I see that you have a magic mirror. Want me to fix that big hole in it for you?”
Chapter Nine
My mouth had to be hanging open about six inches. I snapped it shut.
Flora watched me with nothing but helpful concern. She was a little older than I was, closer to Cassandra’s age. Her face was already lined by hard work, her skin liquid brown from a lifetime under the desert sun. Her voice was rich and low, like the sound of a wooden flute.
“Fremont Hansen suggested I come here for a job,” Flora was saying. “Cassandra thought I’d fit in just fine. She’s one incredible witch, isn’t she? And Fremont—he has nowhere near the power he wants to, but he’s pretty adorable. I met him in Tucson at a sci-fi con. We got to talking witchcraft, I said I was looking for a job, and he told me to come up here and speak to Cassandra.” She said all this without pause, regarding me without worry.
Flora’s aura was clean, no black streaks of evil, but the most powerful mages could disguise their auras or hide them completely.
The fact that Cassandra had hired her without waiting to consult me, however, meant that, in Cassandra’s opinion, Flora was perfectly fine. Cassandra was no fool, and as Flora pointed out, an incredible witch. If Flora carried evil within her, Cassandra wouldn’t have let the woman in the front door. Nor would Flora have been able to breach Mick’s and my wards to enter at all.
I reversed through her speech to her first words. “Did you say you could fix my mirror? How?”
The mirror had a pretty big hole in the middle from one of my first adventures in the hotel. Only a very powerful mage would know how to fuse the glass again, and a mage that powerful—Emmett, for example—would likely try to kill me and run off with the mirror.
Flora shrugged. She was taller than I was, with wide shoulders and a solid build, pretty in a strong, capable way.