Tempt the Stars

touch his face. I jerked it back down, because yeah. Losing it.
    I licked my lips again. “Um,” I said, and stopped. I had nothing.
    But something in my face must have reassured him anyway. Because he let go and sat on the edge of the bed, some of the concern draining out of his eyes. “We’ve discussed this,” he said dryly.
    “We . . . We have?”
    “Yes. You can’t merely shift down here because it’s faster than taking the elevator. I keep dangerous substances—”
    “I didn’t touch the bookcase,” I said quickly. The memory of the one and only time I had wasn’t pleasant. Well, except for watching Rosier’s smug face melt into a puddle of goo after having a few dozen vials of demon-fighting potion dumped on it. And after everything that had happened since, that was actually quite—
    “Cassie?”
    “Huh?”
    “There are more dangers here than just the bookcase.”
    “Like what?”
    “Like this,” Pritkin said, reaching under the bed and pulling out one of his smelly boots. And then jerking something out of the interior. Something that was—
    A thumb came down on top of what looked a lot like a grenade, except it was smooth and bluish steel in color, and had a sort of lever thing on top instead of a pin. A lever that had been halfway down when Pritkin noticed it. Which might have had something to do with the high-pitched whine it had been sending off.
    And still was, I realized, as his eyes widened. He grabbed the other boot and turned it upside down. And then he grabbed me. “Where is it?”
    “Where is what?”
    “The potion grenade!”
    “You have it,” I said, looking in confusion at the object he’d just thrown onto the bed.
    “No! The other one!”
    “There’s another one?”
    “There’s not supposed to be!”
    “Well, I didn’t bring one!” I said feverishly.
    “Then what is—” His eyes suddenly fixed on the front of my tee. “There!”
    And the next thing I knew, he was snatching up my shirt. And yanking something out of my bra. And flinging it away with a savage motion that I barely saw before he threw himself on top of me.
    We hit the floor, and it hurt, because Pritkin is mostly muscle and he weighs a lot. And because my head clipped the edge of the nightstand on the way down. And because his shields snapped closed so hard and fast that they cut off an inch of my hair. Which promptly fell into my eyes.
    But that didn’t seem to matter so much if we were about to be blown to pieces by . . 
    By a grenade that was taking its own sweet time, I thought, as seconds ticked by and nothing happened. Except for Pritkin’s heart beating loud in my ear, because I was squashed underneath him, with my head squeezed between his chest and the floor. To the point that I couldn’t . . . hardly . . 
    “Air,” I squawked, and Pritkin raised himself up slightly.
    And as soon as he did, I realized what was making the objectionable whine.
    “The Star is universally considered to be the most beautiful card in the tarot,” a small voice said reproachfully, from above my head. Where it was protruding out of the elusive tarot deck. Which was now sticking out of an impact point on the wall. And squealing as seventy-eight cards simultaneously registered their disapproval at their rough treatment.
    Pritkin lifted his head to stare at them. And then he looked back down at me. And then he crawled off a few feet and sat on the carpet, and put his head in his hands.
    “Sorry,” I said breathlessly, as the cards continued to mutter to themselves.
    Pritkin didn’t say anything.
    That was okay. That was good. I needed a moment.
    And a bath, I realized, as I lifted an arm to brush the fringe of severed hair out of my eyes. It wasn’t only Pritkin’s boots that were smelling up the place. I sat there, mortified, unable to believe I’d fallen asleep like this. “Is anything going to kill me if I use your bathroom?” I finally asked.
    “Knowing you?” Pritkin’s voice was muffled since he hadn’t raised his head.
    I frowned. “Is that a yes?”
    A couple of fingers came up to massage his temple. “That is a no. Assuming you didn’t bring anything deadly along with you.”
    “Just dirt,” I said, realizing the extent of it. I was going to have a hard enough time explaining this without looking like I’d been spelunking in the Bat Cave. “I’m going to get a shower,” I told him.
    Pritkin didn’t react to this, so I scampered off to the minuscule bath