“You think she’ll come?”
“I think so,” Syn answered.
Bron walked over to open the study door. “Is the suite intact?”
“Yes, the explosion was tightly confined; it was a shaped charge weapon that directed the blast upwards. It was specifically designed to obliterate the bed and its occupants. Nothing else in the room was affected.”
“If that is the case, we must do a sweep of the rooms. Replace the bed and run the air filter.”
As Bron opened the door, Duchess curled around it. Duchess went to sit on the multi-patterned, hand woven rug, raked her claws across the threads, and began to wash her face clean of the small mote of soot on her whiskers.
She spotted Naffie and as Syn predicted, headed straight for him. Jumping on his lap, she circled around to find a comfortable spot then lay curled up on his lap, kneading his trews.
“See, Naffie, everything is fine.”