Page 79 of Shroom for Improvement

However, if Mr Cope thought I’d offer a welcome to an estate agent, he had another think coming. Estate agents were like wasps—essential, unavoidable at times, but a parasitic nuisance the other ninety-nine percent.

“So, you’re Lord Stinkhorn’s... companion?” the serpent shifter said, slithering his attention to Sonny. “What does that”—he gestured between us—“entail?” It was the kind of nosy question someone would ask to determine if we were in a relationship.

Sonny answered before I had time to consider his words. “I work at Remy University. Claude and I are collaborating on a research project.”

Mr Greene’s eyes slid over the points of Sonny’s ears. He nodded and pursed his lips together. The serpent shifter was a lot younger than Mr Cope, but I was useless at guessing the age of anyone neither human nor fae. He had light green skin, with deeper green scales along the sides of his jaw and neck. He wore a pressed white button down, and navy polyester suit trousers with no jacket. He smelled like he wanted everyone to think he had expensive tastes. Like he drove fancy sports cars, and went to art gallery openings, and had famous friends, but in actuality, he’d probably bought his cologne based on the glossy adverts, not the actual scent itself.

“Please, I prefer Claude or Mr Stinkhorn, not lord. It’s just weird.”

Mr Greene shrugged a single shoulder.

It was Mr Cope who eventually spoke. “Sure thing, Claude. You can call me Wes. Your father and I were good friends.” Wes reached into a satchel and pulled out a clear plasticwallet with papers inside. “I have your probate here. Had to pull a tonne of strings with the Kingdom’s government to get that rushed through so quickly. These things usually take a lot longer, but anything for Angus’s boy. I just need a couple of signatures from yourself.”

“Thank you. For going to that trouble for me.” I accepted the official-looking papers from Wes. He or his secretary had placed sticky tabs next to the empty signature boxes to save me even more trouble.

Along with the probate was the last will and testament of my father. It seemed awfully lengthy for a document that could have been summarised into one tiny paragraph.

To my son, Claude Stinkhorn, I leave Stinkhorn Manor and all my worldly possessions. All of them. And see that he is made aware of the rhizome ritual...My heartbeat picked up in speed... He should know what to do.

Damn him.

I threw caution to the wind. “You say you and my father were good friends?”

“Indeed,” Wes said. “We used to go to Gryphon World together all the time.”

My mouth opened, but no words came readily. I side-eyed Sonny and wondered if he was imagining the same thing I was—my father (a slightly older version of me) and this ancient summer fae riding the Sky Labyrinth, wearing gryphon ears, eating hot dogs. Going by Sonny’s smothered smirk, I’d wager he had been.

I brushed the thought aside. “Did he ever tell you about the rhizome ritual?”

Wes’s smile stayed fixed on his face. “Oh, yes, many times.”

The fingers of my left hand shot out, they made contact with the top part of Sonny’s bare knee. Fireworks fizzed up myarm into my chest, and Sonny stiffened beside me. The serpent shifter’s gaze followed the movement, but nobody else seemed to have clocked it.

“He won’t be able to tell you anything,” Jenny said, the edge to its voice letting me know it was still pissy.

“Did you ever accompany him during the ritual?”Please say yes, please say yes.

“Heavens, no. Angus told me if I went with him while he did... whatever he did, it would have completely destroyed our friendship.”

Destroyed their friendship?

Again, I looked at Sonny, who tilted his head curiously to the side.

“Told you,” Jenny said.

I ignored the nagging sensation in my gut to press the fae for more information. Like all of us, he couldn’t lie. He had nothing more of use to tell me. “So, the house is now mine?”

Wes nodded. “I just need your signature, and then yes, Stinkhorn Manor and the surrounding acres are yours. Congratulations.”

He offered me a pen, but I shunned it, and took my own from my inside jacket pocket. I used to have two of these pens—inscribed with my name in gold lettering—but I lost one at work a few years ago. I signed on the dotted lines where the sticky tabs indicated I should, and Mr Cope tucked the papers, including my father’s will, into the plastic envelope again.

“We will store these in our vaults for safekeeping, and we’ll mail you copies within the next couple of weeks,” he said. “In the meantime, I’d like to properly introduce my good friend Cameron Greene. He runs a property management company in Agaricus, but his services cover the entire Kingdom.”

I offered Mr Greene a curt nod, because again, any words of welcome would not leave my fae mouth. I was starting to feelthat either Mr Cope was somehow stretching the truth when it came to declaring folk as good friends, or he kept terrible company.

“Elektra from the Remy branch called me,” Wes continued. “She said you were looking to sell the property.”

“No way are you selling me!” Jenny shouted.

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