Chapter 10

Chapter

Ten

W herein Brenda flies the coop

“Bertrand, get that shite outta my face. Now isn’t the time to capture our conflict, you feel me?”

I know Marty agreed to let him film us in action, but I had to put the kibosh on him coming with us when we snooped around. He’d kill the whole vibe if the people we investigated had a camera in their faces.

I growled at him and snapped my teeth. “Back up.”

He shrank back, almost dropping his camera.

“Nina, leave the boy alone—we have bigger fish to fry!” Marty ordered, pulling off her coat and gloves and throwing them on the chair in the waiting room as we ran to our desks.

Tottington ran behind her, picking up her outerwear as he went, his eyes concerned.

But Bertrand hovered in the background, shifting from foot to foot. ”Seeing as you won’t let me go with you when you investigate, I gotta get all the action I can when you’re here.”

With a huff, I whipped around, jamming my finger in his face. “I’m gonna show you action like you’re never seen if you don’t stop crawling up my backside, buddy. We put limits on this documentary thing for a reason—because not everyone wants a camera in their faces. Now, I can’t think when you’re everywhere I am. Now go!” I shouted, and this time I didn’t regret it.

Wanda came up behind him, wrapping an arm around his skinny shoulders. “Why don’t you go see if Arch made some dinner, Bertrand. You must be hungry. Aren’t all teenage boys, especially werewolf boys, eternally hungry?” She turned him in the direction of the stairs, giving him a nudge, then giving me her disappointed gaze. “I know you’re worried about Brenda, but stop taking it out on the child. You’re going to give him nightmares that stay with him the rest of his life.”

She was right. I sucked. “I’ll make it up to him later, okay? I’ll even wear that stupid fucking mask or whatever for his Dracumentary. Right now, I need to think.”

Her nod was curt before she whisked herself away to her desk. “See that you do.”

Marty held up the note Brenda left us as I stooped to grab Patty and cuddle her, looking for her pink sweater. She trembled against me, burrowing her sparsely furred head under my chin. Sorry. No way would Brenda leave these guys.

“Dark Lord, I think this might be what you’re looking for.” Tottington handed me the dog’s fuzzy sweater, helping me to put her little stick legs through the holes.

“Thanks, Tottington.”

He cocked his head, his usually placid face confused. “Might I inquire as to your well-being, Miss?”

That stopped me cold. “My well-being?”

“Yes, Miss. You didn’t call me Tater Tot. As much as I despise the moniker, I fear I must admit, I’m rather fond of it as well. It lets me know your state of mind, if you will. If you aren’t using my nickname, it surely means you’re troubled. I’d like to know if I can help ease your burden.”

I gave his shoulder a squeeze for his concern. He kinda winced, but whatever. “I’m okay. I’m just worried about Brenda. It makes no sense that she’d just pick up and leave, especially without her dogs and Doug. Where is Doug, anyway?”

He smoothed the lapels of his jacket with a small smile. “Rest assured, Master Doug is well, basking under the heat lamp I ordered, upstairs in my room.”

I managed a smile. I loved Tottington for many reasons, but that he cared about animals made me love him even more. “You’re a good guy, Totts. Thanks.”

“Also, the gifts you ordered from Amazon are here. I’ve wrapped them all especially with the children in mind. I think they’ll be quite pleased.”

I’d ordered some things for Lacy and Owen Jr. on the off chance Astrid didn’t think to shop. She was such a damn mess when we’d met her, I decided what could it hurt, and at least I’d know the kids would have something to open Christmas day, which was right around the corner.

I yanked his stiff frame into a hug I’m sure he hated even more than admitting he hated that he liked the nickname I’d given him. “I fucking reiterate, you’re the best, Tater Tot. Thanks for your help.”

He gave me a curt nod, but the corner of his mouth lifted a little— just a little. “Of course, Miss.”

“Heard anything from Robbie? We could sure use a witch’s input. Anything that might help explain what that picture with sparkles meant.”

Robbie was Tottington’s former charge, so to speak. He’d been a manservant to Robbie and her mad-rich family. When she left her thieving mother’s money and lies behind, he’d gone with her—and stayed with her, even when she was accidentally turned into a witch.

But she’d fallen in love and gone off to live her new witch life, and for the first time in as many years as Robbie had been alive, he’d decided to do something for himself. So he’d come to work for us, and he was pretty great. Even if I freaked him out, he was a damn good organizer.

“Robbie is on her way here as we speak. In the meantime, do be mindful of your safety and keeping your head clear so that all the information you have thus far is processed with reason.”

In other words, Tater Tot thought I was a hothead. I’d heard him ask Arch once if I’d always been so quick to offer to kill people.

It made me laugh at the time, but he wasn’t wrong. I am a hothead, and it does cloud my vision sometimes. Being a straight shooter with zero filter can often keep me from seeing the bigger picture. Sometimes it works in my favor and sometimes it doesn’t.

I smiled at Tottington with a nod. “I’ll do my best to keep my thoughts together just for you, okay, buddy?”

He snapped his heels together and nodded. “Well done, Miss.”

Arch made his way down the steps, pressing the button to the dumbwaiter we’d had put in especially for him, so he could keep everyone fed without breaking his neck.

“Coffee!” Marty barked with a clap of her hands. “Oh, Arch, you’re a mind reader. Thank you—we’re going to need it so we can figure this out. Now tell us what Brenda was like all day?”

Arch put his hands behind his back in his familiar manservant pose, the blue tuft of hair on top of his head wafting in our drafty murder basement.

You couldn’t take the manservant out of Arch, no matter how hard you tried. He was once Wanda’s husband Heath’s manservant, way back in the day, when they were both vampires. Then Arch had been human for a long time, after a weird circumstance where their sire died and turned everyone back to humans. But then, during one of our OOPS cases, Arch was turned into a troll—by accident, of course.

It's kind of a crazy story, but Arch’s duties are ingrained in him in a way we’d never been able to tease him out of. No matter how many times we told him he didn’t need to cook or clean for us, he wouldn’t hear it. He adamantly told us he lived to serve, but always reminded us that he lived to serve the people he loved most in the world, and we’d just have to be satisfied that our needs would always be met—whether we liked it or not.

Now, he gazed at Marty, his sharp eyes somber. “She was quite distraught today, Miss. After you texted me about the possibility there had been a third party involved in her affair with Master Winston, I did as asked, and she quite plainly told me that she knew nothing of the sort about anyone who might be upset over her affair with Winston.”

I threw my hands up in the air in exasperation. “JFC, I swear, does anyone know anything? We’ve hit more brick walls than full-time crash dummies.”

Arch reached for my hand, giving it a squeeze with sympathetic eyes. “Miss Brenda was also quite concerned about the danger she was putting you in with the clan. Yet, I had no indication she would take her leave. None. She was frightened and worried about you and Owen’s wife and children.”

“Archibald is correct.” His new BFF, Tottington, backed him up. “In speaking with her, Miss Bronkowski’s biggest concern was for your safety—all of you and the children.”

“Lemme see that note, Marty.” I held out my hand, taking it from her to give it a scan and a good hard look. It was pretty brief and didn’t say much more than what Arch had told us, but I was still suspicious.

For some reason, I put it to my nose and took a deep whiff.

“Smell that,” I said to Marty. “It’s faint, but it’s there.”

“Witch…” Marty whispered, pressing her fingers to her lips.

I planted my hands on my hips. “Yeah. That means someone was here—in my damn castle—near my damn kids and Arch and Tottington. That means, someone has to die,” I seethed.

Wanda joined us with her phone, and held it up, pointing to an email. “It’s gets worse. Ring-a-ling-a-ling, the clan’s calling—and they’re coming here tomorrow because they somehow found out Brenda contacted us, and they have questions.”

Fuck all.