8
Reine
I turned to see Barton Lucia walking across the clearing from the other side, where the path disappeared into the woods again. He carried two small animal traps in one hand and a rifle in the other.
Sir Raleigh growled, and I shot him a mental command not to go into full-on grimalkin form, at least not yet.
I gave Barton my coolest, haughtiest expression, which I hoped didn’t translate into, “Oh, no, what body? No body here,” and said, “Doctor Lucia, those are some big words coming from a guy with a gun.”
“And was the unfortunate person you’re standing over shot?” He kept the rifle pointed downward, but I could tell from how smoothly he moved that he’d had some training and could probably drop the traps, raise the gun, and shoot in a half-second.
“I don’t know. I just got her
