“I packed your toothbrush for you,” Luca says. “It’s in the front pocket of your bag.”
Ciprian shrugs. “Yeah, but I’d rather summon one.”
Celine points at the small white box protruding from the wall. “Put your face in there and open your mouth.”
Ciprian balks. “Take me out to dinner first, babe.”
“It cleans your teeth,” Celine says drily.
“Sure.” Ciprian shakes his head. “I’ve seen the movies, hot wings, and I’m pretty sure that’s not what’s happens.”
Rolling his eyes, Luca steps up to the box and bends to press his face inside. There’s a moment of silence, then a humming sound, followed by rushing water. My eyebrows shoot up as a fan whirs to life and the muscles in Luca’s shoulders clench.
When he pulls his face out, Ciprian and I stare at him, waiting for a verdict.
Luca grins. “I didn’t expect the floss. That was wild, baby. How does it do every tooth at the same time? The strings didn’t seem connected to anything else.”
Celine shrugs. “I’ve never asked.”
I shake my head. “Angel, your lack of curiosity astounds me.”
“Magic is a good enough answer.” Ciprian eyes the box again and runs his tongue over the front of his teeth, eyes cutting to Luca. “Did it hurt?”
Luca shakes his head. “Not at all.”
I sink into an awkward, half-squat to get my face level with the box.
“Sorry about the height,” Celine says. “It was installed for me as a kid.”
I grunt in response, worried the box will doits thing before I’m in position. Bollocks, I dove right in, but what if it doesn’t know about fangs? If it files them into the perfect celestial smile, I’m going to lose it.
My mouth explodes with sensation. Cold water. Something minty and clean. More water. Then short, synchronized bursts of pressure as the box washes between my teeth. Air comes next, drying my teeth before a short chime trills inside my head.
It’s the most ‘we’re done here’ sound I’ve ever heard.
Pulling my face from the box, I run my tongue over my teeth. My fangs—thank the gods—are still there and perfectly smooth.
“That,” I say, grinning widely at the others, “was delightful.”
Celine exchanges a conspiratorial grin with Malach. “I’m glad you liked it.”
Ciprian takes his turn, although his dark stare remains suspicious. He doesn’t have to bend as far as me, but I wait until he’s hunched over to pinch his ass. He jumps, but his face is already in the box, so the device starts working while he’s yelling at me. The gargling is priceless. When he pops loose, his chin is wet, and there’s foam in the corner of his mouth.
“I think you moved too much,” I say drily.
His eyes flash. He’s about to lunge at me when the walls around us tremble and the lights flicker ominously. A second later, someone bangs on the bedroom door.
“He’s back,” Lyklan shouts. “He’s trying to get in.”
Celine rolls her shoulders, and her expression hardens. “And so it begins.” She squeezes Malach’s hand and gives Riven a look. “He can try to get in until he’s blue in the face. I won’t back up or give in. Not this time. He’s about to learn exactly how strong I am.”
I don’t doubt her, I really don’t—I just wish she didn’t have to keep proving it.
FORTY-ONE
Unspoken Rule of the Fringes #68:
A personal arsenal can’t be full. Never stop adding weapons.