Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Sixteen

My phone buzzed, startling me out of my thoughts, and I pulled it out of my pocket long enough to see that it was Lorcan calling.

At seeing his name pop up on the screen, something petty welled up in my chest, and I shoved my cell phone back into my pocket without answering. I was in the middle of an investigation, after all. I'd see Lorcan when I got home.

And, okay, so maybe a teeny part of me was a little miffed at him for forgetting our anniversary. And that part wanted him to stew a little. So what? I was a witch, after all.

But back to this investigation… even from where I was standing, I could tell that Taliyah was getting frustrated. Not just with Frank's alternatively gruff or cyclical answers, but with having to pussy foot around why we were really here in the first place.

Frank, as far as I could tell, was one-hundred-percent human. And that meant we couldn't exactly interrogate him about curses and magic. And not just because he'd probably think we were nuts—I mean, who really cared that much about that? No, it was mainly because Taliyah and I were both on the Council of Haven Hollow, and that meant that we were actually in charge of keeping magic a secret from the humans. That meant we were in a really awkward spot, unless old Frank decided to let it slip that he knew some of his merchandise was cursed.

I was pretty convinced, though, that Frank was much more concerned about Taliyah taking a too long look at some of the watches he had on display.

Finally, Taliyah snapped her notebook closed. "Alright, Mr. Hughes. If I need anything further, I'll be in touch."

"Happy to oblige you."

She then eyed him narrowly. "Are you sure things are all right with, Mr. Beddow, was it?"

Frank shrugged, shaking his head. "Don't worry about it. That old coot just doesn't understand business. Now, if you don't mind, I've got me some work to do."

Well, that was a dismissal if I'd ever heard one. Perversely, it made me want to linger a bit longer. But that seemed like spiting myself ultimately, so I followed Taliyah through the twisting maze of shelves and back to the front door. Once we stepped outside, I took in a nice breath of fresh air, happy to be breathing something that didn't smell vaguely damp and mildewy.

"So," I said brightly, turning on my heel to face Taliyah. "What now?"

She gave me a look that told me she knew exactly what I was doing, but that she also knew that arguing with me would take more time and energy and ultimately not work out in her favor. So, with a long-suffering sigh, Taliyah nodded her head at the store directly across the street. Llewellen Antiques.

"Now, we go and see if Mr. Beddow is any more forthcoming about things than Mr. Hughes was."

With a quick glance to make sure the coat was clear, Taliyah crossed the street, and I fell in step beside her.

"Did you find anything that might help the investigation while I was busy talking with Hughes?" she asked as she turned to face me.

And oh, didn't that question sound begrudging? I tried not to smirk at the admission that, yes, a witch was very handy to have around when you were trying to hunt down curses and magic. It was too bad I hadn't found anything—if so, I'd have been able to gloat for weeks.

"Nothing," I told her with a sigh, shaking my head. "If Frank has any more cursed objects in there, they aren't out on display, at least."

"Hmm." She turned to face me. "Is each curse custom tailored, then?"

I shrugged. "Or does he bring out his cursed items only for specific people?"

Taliyah grunted, which wasn't very helpful, and stepped up onto the sidewalk.

We were close enough, and the streetlights were bright enough, that we had a very good view of Mr. Beddow scowling at us from just inside the door to his shop. He watched us with narrowed eyes as we stepped up and onto the curb and headed for Llewellen Antiques.

Which meant that we also had a very good view when he reached out and turned the lock on the door. He made eye contact with Taliyah as he flipped the hanging sign from ‘open' to ‘closed', and then flipped the lights off and plunged the store into darkness. Taliyah and I were left staring at the darkened store, caught somewhere between frustration and amusement at the audacity of the man.

We stood there for a second, with Taliyah silently fuming.

Finally, I spoke up.

"I don't think he wants to talk to us."

In spite of the warm evening, a thin trace of frost snaked up the front window of the antique store.

***

The investigation might have come to a standstill, with Taliyah running around and doing the boring job of chasing down scant leads and trying to talk to witnesses again, but that didn't mean that I didn't have a very full plate.

Literally, actually.

I'd taken Poppy's suggestion to heart and tried to go the subversive, but traditional route for my anniversary date with Lorcan, and I had to say, I was doing a really excellent job at it.

Asking around had finally directed me to ‘Nosh', a very small, very boutique restaurant off the beaten path and at the very edge of town—actually Nosh wasn't within city limits of Haven Hollow but was just on the outskirts.

Its menu changed constantly, on the whims of the chef and owner, but from what I'd heard, the food was incredible. But what made Nosh unique was that they offered custom tasting menus if requested in advance. And that meant I had a chance of actually getting what I wanted. Furthermore, the fact that the chef and owner was also an ogre meant that he was used to catering to some very specificpalettes.

The inside of the restaurant wasn't really like anything I'd ever seen before. There was no uniformity, nothing matched—in fact, everything clashed horribly. Each table (of all different shapes and sizes) had a slightly different cloth draping over it—each cloth was off-white, except for the tables in the corners of the dining room. Those were draped in blood red, to striking effect. The cutlery was all uniform, but only to a table. I saw everything from everyday stainless steel, to antique silver, to bronze, to lacquered chopsticks. And the silverware was of differing sizes. Velvet swathes draped the walls, and some formed curtains around select tables. Even the salt and pepper shakers were all different, each table with its own unmatched pieces. It should have been gaudy, ugly even, but somehow it all just worked in this dizzying and appealing display of texture and color.

A little bit of excitement sparked in my chest. I was going to win this date so hard.

It was after the dinner rush when I sat down at the table closest to the kitchen, and the chef, Louie, eased himself out the double swinging doors that separated the dining room from the food preparation.

Even with a glamor to hide his more… exaggeratedfeatures, Louie was a mountain of a man. He was the only person I'd ever seen that could rival Roy, Haven Hollow's resident Sasquatch, for height and sheer muscle mass. Louie wasn't as tall as Roy, though he only missed that by a hair. But his shoulders! They were comically broad, and so heavily muscled that it actually made them slump forward just a little.

As he sat down, the chair creaked alarmingly, and I thought for sure that the solid wood was going to snap like a twig, then dump him on the floor. But, miracle of miracles, the chair managed to hold him. Louie, who didn't seem concerned (so must have tested the chairs at an earlier date) set a notebook on the table. The pencil looked absurdly delicate in his huge hands.

"So." Louie's voice was deep and sounded like an avalanche rumbling in his chest. His eyes reminded me of a raven's, as dark as little chips of onyx, and his smile was filled with huge slabs of teeth. "You said you had a unique tasting menu request?"

"I did."

He nodded. "I hope it's a difficult one. I've been looking for a challenge."

I had to laugh. A challenge? That might be one way to put it. Was it even possible to make a menu that Lorcan could eat? As far as I knew, he hadn't had solid food for almost three centuries. Was there anything he could enjoy that didn't come fresh from a vein?

"I was hoping you might be able to help me," I started on a sigh, hoping I wouldn't leave disappointed. "I want a private dinner for two, but one of the diners can only consume blood."

Louie paused, going very still, and for a second, I thought that was it. That what I was asking for couldn't be done, and I'd be back to square one. But Louie turned to face me with a look of honest delight spreading across his craggy features.

"A tasting menu," he breathed. "For a vampire?"

"Yes, that's right."

He smiled even more broadly. "Oh, oh, this is too good."

He flipped open the notebook and immediately started scribbling away. I was shocked the pencil didn't snap in his hand, or that he didn't push it straight through the paper and into the table beneath it. His muscles were just that comically exaggerated.

"Then you think you can do it?" I asked, just to make sure.

He looked up at me and nodded. "Various courses of different blood would be so boring, though."

"Right—I was—"

"—too pedestrian! But I can't go too overboard either, not for a palette that hasn't tasted even simple spices for—what—hundreds of years?"

"True and—"

"—oh, my. Yes, yes. Let me think."

The ogre's excitement rekindled mine. I leaned forward, trying to see over his log of a forearm to catch a glimpse of whatever he was writing. "So, you can do it?"

Louie sighed happily. "I love a challenge."

"Is that a—"

"—maybe something chilled to start? A blood gel? And, oh, for the beef course, perhaps I can cook a lovely sirloin, and then deglaze the pan with beef blood, and make a demi glace, served hot."

"Okay, but—"

"—oh, this will be fantastic."

I was far too aware that there were other people in the building, even if they were distracted by their own meals, to clap my hands. I couldn't stop the smile from spreading across my face, though. I just had this feeling that this dinner was going to be amazing, something truly unique. Yes, I was definitely going to be able to rub it in Lorcan's face for years to come—that this was the exact reason why he'd married me in the first place.

Well, he'd obviously married me because I was gorgeous and powerful—that was a given. I didn't have anything to prove, that was for sure. But, still, with all the chaos that had been thrown into our lives lately, it might be nice to remind him that I saw him. That I knew him. That I cared about him.

Ugh, it was all too maudlin for me. And over a meal, for spell's sakes. I darted a glance around the restaurant, hoping for something to distract me. At least until the flush faded out of my face again.

One of the servers, a young woman with sleek dark hair and the darting eyes of a werewolf, was going around to all of the unoccupied tables and collecting the salt and pepper shakers. I watched as she carried them over to the sideboard and began removing the tops to refill each from large boxes of seasoning. There really was a dizzying array of the salt and pepper shakers, all perfectly paired, but none of them matching. There was even one set that were in the shape of twin Eiffel Towers. Another set were two cats twined together.

Louie caught the direction my attention had shifted and his laughter sounded like thunder in his chest.

"You like my collection?"

"I do," I admitted, even realizing that this was a stretch for me. I'd certainly been taken out of my comfort zone but somehow… well, somehow the chaos of this place just worked.

"I enjoy the variety. Things get boring when everything's the same, you know?" Louie continued.

Well, I couldn't argue with that. My life had been absolute chaos since I'd moved to the Hollow, with all its mishmash of humans and supernatural beings. It was infuriating, absurd, and sometimes it made me want to climb the walls like a freaking spider, but it certainly was never boring.

And the idea of Louie, with his hands like slabs of beef, collecting salt and pepper shakers of all things, made a smile curl my lips. Some of them were absurdly delicate looking, glass and silver and ceramic. Could he even pick them up with those mitts for hands, or did he have to rely on an assistant?

There were roughly fifty tables in the restaurant. All of them had their own set of shakers, and knowing how rough people could be with things that weren't theirs, probably some backups kept in reserve. The sheer number was boggling.

"Where did you find them all?"

Louie leaned back, and the chair cried out in protest. He scratched at the stubble on his cheek, and it rasped like a bristle brush. "All over," he grunted. "Mostly antique stores, or second-hand shops. You can find some real treasures that way, if you're willing to put some effort into it."

"I can imagine."

He shrugged, one shoulder rising and falling like a tectonic plate. "Of course, you can also find some with leaded glass in them, so it's kind of a toss up."

A little shiver of unease traced its way up my spine and the feeling made little sense to me, yet there it was. A prickle of dread that lingered at the back of my neck. It was silly. I was being paranoid, even for Haven Hollow. There was no reason to be suspicious of anything. The only magic I felt in the restaurant was all firmly located in the kitchen. Louie hadn't mentioned anything about pawnshops. Right, this was silly. Just because I'd been having a rough week didn't mean that all second-hand stores were suspect.

As I watched, the server used a small funnel to fill a pretty pewter tower salt-shaker, and she pulled back a little too fast. A few grains of salt spilled onto the sideboard, pale against the dark cloth. And then there was this nauseating rush of fetid power. A second later, everything in the restaurant went haywire.