26. Imogen

26

IMOGEN

T he middle of the pencil is a bumpy mess where my teeth dig into it. I chew on the wood despite Josie telling me a hundred times that I'm going to get sick from the paint.

"What do you think about a fruit theme?" I say, releasing the pencil from my mouth. I jot down fruit with a few question marks after it onto my notepad. "And you can source us some unique human ones no one has heard of for signature cocktails."

"That could be fun," Josie says from the kitchen.

I asked her to come over to help ideate, given how amazing her collaboration was with Gluttony's restaurant, but we haven't gotten anywhere. My journal is full of crossed out thoughts and scribbled ideas that haven't gotten me any closer to finding the "it-factor" we need to make this new place special.

It needs something , otherwise it's a copy of the Den. Which, at this point, is probably better than any of the ideas I have.

I groan, flopping back on the couch and chucking my feet over the arm. The journal falls to the ground with a thunk when I fling my arm out, and the pencil rolls across the floor and under the coffee table. Blood rushes to my head as I lay, tilted back.

"All these ideas are terrible," I say.

"I don't think they're that bad," Josie says, coming back from the kitchen with the bottle of wine she uncorked and two glasses. I watch as an upside-down Josie sets them on the table and pours herself a glass, all the while smiling down at me and my dramatics. "But if it doesn't feel right, then it doesn't feel right. What kind of energy are you going for?"

"Energy?"

Josie curls up onto the armchair next to the couch, tucking her feet under her butt. She's dressed casually, in work overalls and a cotton button-down with the sleeves rolled up; I'm no different, wearing a plain polo and wool sport knickers.

Am I riding a horse any time tonight? No. But they are comfortable.

"The Den is alluring because it's dark and indulgent. You can get lost in anonymity on the dance floor or cozy up in a booth with friends," she says over the lip of her glass. "What do you want this one to be?"

I gaze up at the ceiling—the white slab of sheetrock is no different from my mind: blank.

"It's okay if you don't have an answer right now."

I roll my eyes. "Alright, miss mind-reader."

"It's not my fault you're easy to read," Josie snorts.

I twist, turning onto my stomach and propping my chin on my forearms.

"You think so?" I ask, genuinely curious.

Josie shrugs one shoulder. "Maybe not generally, but to me."

"Hm," I hum. "So, what am I thinking about right now?"

I narrow my eyes at her and think hard about cherries.

"That's not how it works," she laughs, tucking her short hair behind her ear.

"Lame."

"You don't want me rummaging around inside your head, searching for answers, trust me."

"Is said rummaging any different from what you've done with me before?"

"Eh, you already had everything you wanted to show me front and center. There wasn't much digging involved." She tilts her head back and forth. "Nora says it's a tickle in her brain when I search for something. Others don't even notice. So, I think it depends."

"Interesting." I push up into a sitting position and lean forward to pour myself some wine. "Speaking of Nora…" I drawl as I top off the glass. "I was thinking."

"You were? Wow, that's great."

"Oh, fuck off." I smack her knee, but she snickers. "I was thinking about getting Nora a special gift for Solstice."

"Yeah?"

"But I need your help to get it."

"Okay…" Josie quirks one thin brow, as if to say go on.

I take a gulp of my wine, and the refreshing notes of pear burst on my tongue. My smile is tight, knowing she isn't going to be happy with what I'm about to ask.

"Because it's on the other side of the Veil." I wince.

"What? Why?"

"I know how much she likes her guns, and I want to get her a personalized one," I say, tracing lazy circles around the lip of my glass. I smile when a crystal note emerges from the glass when I swipe just right. "There's this shop, apparently, that will engrave them."

Josie sets her glass down and plants both feet on the hardwood floor. She leans her forearms on her knees and levels me with narrowed eyes.

"How do you know about this?"

" Well ," I start. "You know how you keep sending Wes to watch the bar despite me not needing a bodyguard? I refuse to let him stand there like a statue, so we got to talking."

"I'm going to murder that boy," Josie murmurs on a sigh.

"No, you won't."

"Of course, I won't," she levels. "Doesn't mean I won't scold him for inviting a civilian across the Veil."

"So, you will take me?" I say, excitement raising my voice a note. I push all the hope I can into my wide eyes and pouty, quivering lip.

"Mo, that's not?—"

"Please, please, please, plea?—"

She huffs a sigh, relenting. "Fine."

I squeal. "Thank you!"

"I might not murder Wes, but Nora's definitely going to murder me when she gets back and hears about this."

"No, she won't. I won't let her."

"And there's no way I can convince you to let me send one of the guys to do this for you?"

"Nope. I want to do it myself," I say with cheery confidence.

"Fine. But we're bringing the guys too. Human-side, you do need bodyguards. It's not only the Seelie out there we need to worry about."

"Wes said—" Josie hits me with one of her infamous reprimanding glares and my mouth snaps shut. "I can compromise."

We head across the Veil two days later.

My knee bumps up and down as Wes drives us through the streets of the human city. It's not terribly different from Anwynn, but the tall buildings are colder and the sky is grayer, as if the vibrancy of life has been drained from the air. We stop at an intersection, watching swaths of hat and scarf-clad pedestrians rush across the streets to work.

"I'm glad you took my recommendation, Lust," Wes says from the driver's seat. He meets my eye through the rearview mirror of the Cadillac, red cheeks plumped into a dimpled smile. "The owner's workmanship is excellent. You'd think he was fae. Trust me, you won't regret this."

"I've been looking forward to it," I say. "Thank you for accompanying us."

"When Boss says jump, you jump." He laughs awkwardly, eyes turning back to the road. "And who can say no to a Sin like you either?"

"You've got him quite chatty," Josie murmurs out of the side of her mouth, quiet enough for only me to hear as we sit huddled in the back seat together.

I lean my head towards her, whispering on a snicker, "Not my fault if he wants to please me."

"Uh-huh," she deadpans. "You and Leo aren't trying to snatch him for your House, are you?"

"I wouldn't do that."

She quirks a brow at me accusingly, but I haven't thought to poach the young talent for my House. There's not much value for those who can wield shadows in House Lust; empaths such as Josie, on the other hand, are a goldmine.

"Sin's honor," I add, fingers crossing over my chest.

Josie huffs a laugh, shaking her head as the car jerks to a stop.

"I'll let you two out here. Shop's right there." Wes points through the window across the street to an overhang with a tarnished metal sign shaped like a revolver dangling over the doorway. The shop window has Sal's Gunsmith painted in bold letters on the glass. "I will park the car and then stand guard outside."

Josie and I hurry out of the car, and I throw a quick thank you to Wes before shutting the door.

"This is exciting," I say as I pull Josie across the crosswalk, looking both ways before skipping across the white lines.

"Don't get your hopes up," Josie says. "The humans are tough bargainers. At least, the ones I deal with on a regular basis are."

I scoff as I twist the door handle to the shop; a bell chimes above my head as we enter, rushing out of the cold. I untie my scarf, letting it hang over my shoulders and down the front of my jacket.

"Josie, you should know better by now." I wink. "I always get the deal I want."

The distinct tang of metal and smoke fills my nostrils as I take in the rifles sitting upright on shelf-lined walls. In front of each rack are glass display cases, showing off revolvers and antique paraphernalia—little pieces of human history.

A bloody history, I think, then shake my head. Nope. Don't think about the death part. Think about Nora's smile when she opens it on Solstice.

"Now, what are two pretty young ladies like yourselves doing in here?" an ancient Yankee voice calls from the back of the shop.

The man pops out of a back door—likely where his workshop lives—and wipes his wrinkled hands off on a dirtied rag before tossing it behind the checkout counter. He shuffles forward, hands on his hips, where an oil-stained apron is tied around his waist.

I let my magic unfurl around me, projecting an amiable, compliant aura.

"I am in need of a gift for a special someone," I say. "And I was hoping you'd be able to help me with that."

Immediately, a gap-toothed smile spreads across his cheeks.

"Oh yeah? What are you thinking of?" He walks forward to the glass display cases. "Do they go upstate to hunt? Or are you looking for more of a collectible?"

I open my mouth, pausing, realizing that I don't know any of the proper terms.

I should have asked Wes more questions before this. I don't want Josie thinking I'm incompetent.

"I'm open to your suggestions," I say, leaning forward conspiratorially. "All I require is that it's somewhat small, and I can have something engraved on it."

"Ah," he croons. "Lovebirds." He rummages for keys in his pocket to unlock the case in front of us. "I've got just the thing."

It doesn't take long for the man to show me a few options and get my order placed. He's quite cute, the way he fusses over the guns, his knotted knuckles running over the metal with care as he explains what makes each unique.

Most of it goes over my head—but I nod and smile, nonetheless. When he pulled out the more modern model, with its sleek gray gunmetal and wooden inlay on the handle, I knew it belonged to Nora.

When he shuffles to the counter to write down the details, I turn to find Josie staring at a shiny silver and gold western-looking revolver in a case.

I lean forward, my mouth near the shell of her ear.

"Do you want that one?"

Josie startles, jerking away from me. "You can't sneak up on me like that."

I snort. "Aren't you the one always telling the rest of us to be more aware of our surroundings, to be careful, to?—"

"Alright, alright, I get it."

Leaning my hip against the glass display case, I nod my head at the revolver she was ogling.

"That catch your eye?"

Her lips twitch. "Yeah, but I don't need another?—"

"Hey, Sal!" I call across the shop. "I want to add another to my order."

"You don't need to buy me?—"

I tsk and place a steady hand on Josie's, cutting her off. Her cheeks pinken at the contact.

"Let me spoil you, Josie. Friends deserve good Solstice gifts too," I say. Then I shoot her a devious smile. "Plus, I got him to give me an unbeatable discount."