The Slaughtered Lamb Bookstore and Bar (Sam Quinn Book 1)

by Seana Kelly

  “It happened again?” Anger threaded through Clive’s voice.

  “It would seem so,” I said.

  Coco gave us the impression of privacy by turning toward the small boy and his dog, watching them play.

  “What was it this time?” Concern made its way through the anger.

  “Rats.”

  Coco made a comforting sound in the back of her throat, still looking away from me.

  “They were everywhere. Eating me alive.” Fighting off a full-body cringe, I continued. “I was out in the open. Anyone could have walked up and killed me while I was trapped in the vision.” I stared down at my feet a moment, considering. “Why didn’t they?”

  “Interesting question.”

  Coco turned back to me and took my hand, lifting it so I could see the slice on the fleshy part between my thumb and forefinger, right where that rat in the vision had bitten me.

  “Damn.” It was like when I yelled ‘Open!’ in the Kraken vision and actually opened my wards. The rat bit me in a vision and my hand was bloodied in real life.

  “What is it, Sam?”

  “Her hand was cut,” Coco said when I remained silent. “Small. Almost like she was sliced while shaking a hand.” She looked thoughtful for a moment. “Is there anything special about her blood? Someone went to an awful lot of trouble for a small cut.”

  “Excellent question. Do they want her dead or do they want her blood?”

  “Well, neither sounds great to me.” I’d had no control. I’d been standing here unable to defend myself. A shiver ran through me. Coco and Clive talked about me as though I were an interesting puzzle. I couldn’t be that objective.

  “Have you completed the repairs?” Clive asked.

  “Not yet. I was interrupted,” Coco said. Supernatural hearing meant neither was hindered by the fact that the phone was at my ear.

  “I’m sorry. Do you have to start all over again?” I wasn’t leaving her side, not until the necklace was back around my neck.

  “Unfortunately. It’s exhausting. I’ll add it to your bill.” Coco winked and then eased the phone out of my hand. “We’re heading back now,” she said to Clive.

  “Good.” Click. I guess Clive wasn’t big on goodbyes. And how was he awake at this hour?

  We were a few blocks away when I finally asked the question that had been flitting in and out of my brain. “You said ‘wolf’ earlier. Did you mean me, or did you smell a different wolf?”

  “Different. Male. The scent was faint. He’d been in that location earlier, but I couldn’t tell if it had been ten minutes or two hours.” We’d made it back to the city streets, leaving the park behind.

  I held up my left arm, the one that wolf had touched. “Was this the scent?”

  Coco leaned down and sniffed my sleeve. She stopped walking, pausing to think. “Yes. That’s the scent. But now I don’t know if I was smelling your sleeve and assuming a wolf had been nearby or if he really had been standing next to you while you were trapped in that vision.”

  We were two blocks away when Coco’s head shot up. She took off at a run, racing down the sidewalk and through the door of her shop. Following in her wake, I stepped in a moment later and my stomach dropped. It had been ransacked while she was out. Swearing, she jumped the counter and went straight to the workroom. Two of the cases had been smashed, jewelry scattered, valuable pieces no doubt stolen. Broken glass glittered on the worn carpet.

  This was my fault. “I’m sorry. I’ll pay for the missing jewelry.” Somehow. I sank into a high-backed chair in the corner of the shop. I’d be paying off the bar for the next hundred years, assuming I lived that long. What was a little more debt?

  Coco walked out of the backroom, her dark skin unnaturally pale. “The necklace is gone.”

  I stood, my breath caught in my chest. “Gone?”

  “Destroyed. The glass breaking out here was probably just for show. The necklace was the goal. Every stone has been smashed to powder, settings broken, chain torn apart. Trust me. This,” she gestured at the display cases. “was window dressing. What they wanted was to strip away a defense.”

  Legs giving out, I dropped back into the chair. “It was the only thing I had of my mom.”

  “I’m so sorry.” She paused a moment. “The only thing?” Coco crouched in front of me, a hand on my knee.

  Dazed, I couldn’t think straight. “It burned down. Our home. After she died and I was—I tried to go home, but the apartment building was a scorched ruin.” Looking up, I found Coco’s sympathetic gaze. “It must have happened during the funeral. I tried to get out of the car, talk to the firemen, but Uncle Marcus pulled me back and turned the car around. Drove us away.” The glass dust glinted in the sunlight slanting through the window.

  “I had nothing when I was sent here after the attack. Nothing but the clothes on my back and the pendant around my neck. Marcus sent me to live with Helena, a wicche friend of my mom’s.” Clutching Coco’s hand on my knee, I asked what I needed to know. “Was my mom a wicche?”

  “I didn’t know her, but the magic shares harmonies with you.” She shook her head. “I’m not sure how to explain it. I can see magic, but mostly I hear it. The spells in the necklace sound feminine. When you told me your mother had given it to you, I thought, of course. You share the same magical harmonies. A great deal of love and fear went into making that pendant. Your mother was worried about protecting you.” She looked down at the carpet a moment, lost in thought. “How did she die?”

  “She…” I paused, trying to remember. I forced the memory to surface but got nothing. “I don’t remember.” How could I not remember?

  “Were you very young? Was it right after she gave you the necklace?”

  “No. I was seventeen. I came home from school and there were women in the apartment, cleaning and talking in hushed tones. They said my mother was dead, but they wouldn’t let me see her. I remember tearing through the tiny apartment, calling her name. It was empty except for the women. They said they were relatives, but I’d never seen any of them before.”

  Tears slipped down my face. “There was a funeral. I remember that. And a storm. My Uncle approached me as the cemetery cleared. I was standing in front of Mom’s grave. The women were gone. Everyone was gone except for Marcus. He introduced himself and invited me to live with him.

  “My mother had always told me to stay away from dad’s side of the family, but I was so scared and alone. So lost. I followed him out of the cemetery.” I found Coco’s eyes again. “I used to remember more. It feels like it’s right there, behind a curtain I need to open but can’t reach.”

  Touching my forehead, she said, “The memory might have been stolen or buried so deep it amounts to the same thing. If they’re hiding her death, though, it must be important.” She stood, hands at her waist, staring out the window. “Have you ever tried hypnosis?”

  “No. I’ve never done any kind of therapy.”

  Her gaze snapped back to me. “Not even after the attack?”

  “How did you—does everyone know what he—what happened to me?” Long-buried fears and humiliations came racing back. I tasted bile in the back of my throat. Had I spent seven years hiding scars they all saw?

  Coco dropped back down into a crouch. “I meant a turning, especially against one’s wishes, can be traumatic.”

  I chuffed a short, derisive laugh. “Yeah, that’s one way of putting it.”

  Six

  In the Tiki Tiki Tiki Tiki Tiki Room

  I returned home with an antique hammered copper cuff that Coco had given me. She wouldn’t let me leave without it. She said it wouldn’t give me the protection my necklace had, but it should keep whoever was screwing with me out of my head. One could hope.

  “Anyone need anything?” I asked the bar in general, as I stepped behind the counter, hip checking Owen out of my way.

  “Could I have an oolong tea?” Hepsiba, an old crone, was in her usual spot near the window.

  “Sur
e. Coming right up.” I extracted leaves from a glass container and began preparing the tea. I offered almost as many tea varieties as I did alcohol. Wicches loved their teas. Waiting for it to steep, I realized my hand was resting below my collar bone, right where my mother’s pendant used to lay. Copper cuff or not, I worried I might not live long enough to pay off this bar. Or Coco. Or, you know, see next week.

  After delivering the tea, I carried a tray of empty glasses and mugs into the kitchen. Owen followed me in, carrying more. “So, what’s been happening with you?” His piercings glittered in the bright overhead lights.

  “Owen, do you get a lot of people trying to pick you up, people who are drawn to shiny objects?”

  He smirked, raising one dark, glittering eyebrow and waiting for me to answer the question.

  What was the question again? Oh, right. I counted off on fingers the weird shit that had been going on in the last twelve hours. “A wolf tried to kill me. An eel wrapped itself around my neck and tried to drown me. I was trapped in a vision with the Kraken. A different wolf threatened me. Or not. Not sure if I overreacted to that one. I was trapped in another vision. This one of rats eating me alive. And someone stole the only thing I had from my mother.”

  Owen stood with his mouth open, a tray of glasses forgotten in his hands. “All of that happened since I saw you yesterday?” Shaking his head, he said, “I don’t even know which one to ask about first.”

  I took the tray from him and placed it on the counter by the dishwasher. “Do I seem different to you?”

  After a moment, his eyes took on a faraway gleam and then he flinched. “Uh…that’s weird.”

  “What?” I took off the cuff and placed it on the center island, in case it was causing any interference.

  “Wait. What is that and why did taking it off just throw you into focus?” Owen leaned away from me, as though I was no longer trustworthy or safe.

  How to explain? “I used to have something. From my Mom. It protected me, I guess.”

  “The necklace,” he said.

  “Sam?” a voice called from the bar.

  “Be right there,” I shouted back, before focusing on Owen again. “How did you know about that?”

  Shrugging, he said, “I’ve never seen it, but you touch it all the time. Through your t-shirt, I mean.”

  “I do?”

  Nodding, he stepped closer. “Yeah. It’s just how you stand, left arm across your chest, holding your right elbow. Right hand on the bump under the collar of your t-shirt. But,” his voice softened. “I don’t see that bump anymore.”

  My throat tightened with tears I wouldn’t cry. The loss hollowed me out, but I refused to break down.

  “That’s what was stolen?”

  Nodding my head, I swallowed. “My mother gave it to me. Made it for me.” Tears threatened, so I turned, dashing them away. Picking up the cuff and returning it to my wrist helped me feel less exposed.

  “Why didn’t you ever tell us your Mom was a wicche?” Owen said it so matter-of-factly, my heart skipped a beat.

  “Why do you say that?”

  “I felt the protective spells when I first hugged you. Is that why you don’t like being touched? Or is it the…” His voice drifted off as a finger pointed vaguely to his own neck, no doubt referring to the scars he’d seen trailing out of my collar and cuffs.

  “I just don’t like it.”

  “Gotcha,” he said, clearing his throat. “Anyway, I’d assumed Helena or one of the other wicches who come in here made it for you.” He leaned a hip against the counter and stared at me a moment. “That’s what’s different. I’m not only picking up the earth magic of the wolf, like usual. There’s a deeper resonance today. You have your own inherent magic. How has that never manifested?”

  It was my turn to shrug. “The necklace?”

  “Damn. That’d have to be one powerful charm to hide your magic not only from us but from yourself.”

  “Owen,” I asked, biting my lip. “Do I really seem different to you? Dave and Clive said my scent was off.” I don’t know why that bothered me so much, but it was like I couldn’t trust who I was anymore.

  “Well, my sense of smell is nowhere near as good as theirs, so I can only go by feel.” He took one of my hands and held it, as though evaluating me. Dropping it, he gave me a quick kiss on the cheek and turned to leave. “I need to think on this.”

  The phone rang and someone from the bar called my name again. I pushed through the kitchen door and found the receiver laying at the end of the bar. Owen helped people waiting for service, while I picked up the phone.

  “Slaughtered Lamb, this is Sam.”

  “Tara’s working tonight, and she’s willing to talk with us.” As usual, Dave ignored niceties.

  “Anything special I should do or bring?” Should I make sure to keep crosses away from her?

  “She’s a bartender in an island-themed bar that caters to tourists. The fuck? Order a fruity drink and bring money.” Click. Such a charmer.

  There was only a faint grumbling when I kicked everyone out early. Even though Owen had agreed to stay, I shoved him out the door at the end of his work day. I didn’t want to be responsible for messing up his love life. Pulling on my pea coat, I checked to make sure I had cash in my pocket, and then waited for Dave at the stairs. My first succubus. I was weirdly giddy, considering.

  Dave walked out of the kitchen with a paper towel in his hand. “Here. Eat them while they’re hot.” The scent of brown sugar and vanilla had my mouth watering. He pounded up the stairs while I stared wistfully down at the six, fresh-from-the-oven cookies he’d dropped in my hands.

  Taking a bite of the rich ambrosia of the gods, I paused, eyes closed, savoring the deep, rich chocolate encased in warm, buttery cookie. “I love you.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” he mumbled.

  “I was talking to the cookie.” Damn, the man could bake.

  “Are we leaving or what?”

  “Yeah, yeah.” I stuffed the rest of the cookie in my mouth, folding the paper towel carefully around the rest and putting them in my pocket for later. We had a date, those cookies and me.

  The Tonga Room was a tiki lounge in the basement of the Fairmont Hotel. A narrow pool dominated the center of the dim room. Colored lights hidden behind fake palm trees illuminated the surreal scene. Floating on a grass-roofed raft in the center of the pool was a three-piece band. Around the pool were bamboo tables for two, four, and eight people, all with their own thatched roofs. It was ridiculous, and I loved it.

  Dave walked straight to the bar, tucked into the corner of the island paradise. Ignoring him, I leaned against the bamboo rail surrounding the pool and watched a petite woman on the twinkle-lit raft sing The Girl from Ipanema while her bored-looking bandmates accompanied her on the keyboard and drums.

  Lightning flashed across the ceiling. A moment later thunder rumbled through the room and rain began to fall in the pool. The band kept dry under the thatched roof of their raft. Reaching out, warm pseudo-rain spattered across my hand.

  “Sam.”

  Yeah, yeah.

  The woman behind the bar was a fantasy island girl, with long, dark curly hair, luminous, deep brown eyes, and the curves of a goddess. She was all doe-eyed innocence. Damn, I bet her victims never saw her coming.

  “Hurricane, please.” I took the stool next to Dave.

  Her sweet smile lit up the room and made me feel content and understood. “A woman after my own heart.”

  “Sam, this is Tara. Tara, Sam.” Dave grabbed a handful of nuts out of a bamboo bowl. When Dave was out in public, he wore a glamour that altered his natural dark red skin and full-black eyes. His skin was currently a warm brown and his eyes a deep whiskey color. I was so used to his normal shark-like gaze, the glamour was throwing me off.

  Tara slid a drink in front of me, crossed her arms on the bar, and leaned forward. Her impressive breasts were on display, but in a way that made it seem completely unconscious. She wasn’t high
lighting her lady bits. She was just taking a break and leaning. This woman was a master.

  “Put ‘em away, Tara. No one here is interested,” Dave grumbled.

  One perfectly manicured nail ran along Dave’s hand. “I remember a time when you were very interested.”

  A lecherous grin slid across Dave’s face. “You were the star of all my adolescent fantasies. Pre-adolescent, too, come to think of it.”

  Her laugh was deep and throaty, a sexy joke between sweaty lovers in the middle of the night, in the quiet of their rumpled bed. “Not anymore? Ouch.”

  Smirking, Dave said, “You’ve met Maggie, right?”

  Tara stood straight and adjusted her dress to better cover her soft, fleshy parts. “I have. Now, what do you two need?”

  A waitress interrupted. Tara quickly made four fruity, umbrella drinks before the server rushed off.

  “Someone’s fucking with Sam.” He tipped his head toward me. “She’s getting caught in visions she can’t get out of on her own.”

  Tara actually looked at me for the first time.

  “Someone’s trying to kill her.” He watched Tara study me. “Can you tell? Is this coming from our neck of the woods?” A demon, he meant.

  Tara took my hand and leaned forward, resting her nose on my neck and breathing me in. A shiver went down my spine at the contact. “You’re a unique one, aren’t you?” She turned to Dave. “I’m not sensing anyone we know.” She gave me her full attention. “But I am sensing cookies.”

  Grinning, I took out my pack of cookies and passed her one. She ate while returning her attention to Dave.

  “Someone new in town?” He grabbed more nuts off the bar, glancing at the couple who walked in, heading for a table close to the pool. Lightning flashed and thunder rumbled in the room before it began raining in the pool again.

  “Not that I’ve heard, but you know they consider my kind riff-raff.”

  “Okay. If you can keep an ear to the ground, I’d appreciate it.” He turned to me. “Finish up. Tara’s working, and we’re in the way.”