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“A lesser Fae fairly called and enslaved wouldn’t have a choice”

“Yes, but how many humans kno to summon a Faerie these days? And I repeat, what the hell would they ith a corpse?” I swirl the tea in my cup to keep my hands busy

“Perhaps she was a changeling?” He arches a dark brow

“Let’s go with your theory” I salute hiood could she be to them, deceased?”

“They honor their species Perhaps they wanted to bury her a her own people in their land?”

I wrinkle my nose “They’re careful If Faeries crossed over, ould never ever know”

“Yes Faeries are far too cunning Unless their goal was to make mischief?” He poses his question like a query

I shake my head “That’d be morbid Even for them”

“Are you sure there was nothing was unusual about the victim?”

“Trust me, Miles We all scoured her records, house, school, and online history The woman should be instated to sainthood”

“Hers, opens the wrapper, and shakes two out fortwo for himself He knows my pension for British sweets I take a bite of the buttery biscuit with jelly filling and hum my approval

“Perhaps,” he pauses to chew and s, “they were ?”

I cover my hand with my mouth “What?” I ask around the cookie

“The huical weapon”

I wash down the cookie with tea “Short of bringing a ether parts to life, I’d say nay A hand of glory requires a s who exude serious darkness, so it doesn’t fit”