“They both seem to have taken it in stride,” Aggie said, saving me without realizing it. “She’s got a new business to run and he’s still new to the town. They’re both young. Makes sense to focus on their professional lives.”
“How’s Magic Beans faring after its little setback?” Husbourne asked. The shop had been closed soon after opening because of a demonic parasite.
“Wonderful,” Adele said. “We couldn’t be more pleased for her.”
“A thriving business is good for the town too,” Hugh Phelps said, swaggering into the room. The werewolf dropped into the seat next to Adele. “I haven’t missed the appetizers, have I?” Hugh generally seemed more intent on the food than the meeting.
“Of course not, darling,” Aggie said. “Rafael hasn’t been back here yet.”
“That’s because this place is mobbed tonight,” I said. Chophouse was one of the most successful restaurants in town and we were lucky to be able to meet here in private.
On cue, the door flew open to reveal Rafael, who greeted us with a dazzling smile. “Sorry to keep you waiting, esteemed members of the council. It’s hectic out there tonight.”
“No worries, son,” Husbourne said. “We’re not in a rush.”
“Can I interest anyone in appetizers?” Rafael asked. “I’ll make sure to expedite your order…without sacrificing quality, of course.” The warlock took great pride in his work.
“The usual round of drinks, please,” Adele said. “And the avocado yogurt dip with the pita chips.”
Aggie brightened. “That sounds simply delicious.”
“The crab and avocado toast for me,” Husbourne said. “It melts in your mouth, ya’ll. You have to try it.”
“You’re so incredibly talented, Rafael,” Aggie said.
Rafael bowed, the hint of a smile on his lips. “I aim to please the palette.”
Adele smiled. “You’re a true genius.”
Hugh wiggled a hand in the air. “I’d like the truffle ravioli, but can I get it with cheddar cheese instead of Calcagno?”
Rafael sucked in a breath. “I beg your pardon?”
Uh oh.
“I like cheddar,” Hugh said. “Don’t grate it too fine either. I prefer it chunky so I can taste it.”
“Calcagno is a type of pecorino,” Rafael said. “The sweetness and aroma are perfect for the truffle…”
“Yeah, see. I’m not a big fan of Pecorino,” Hugh said.
Rafael’s face turned bright red. “As I’m sure you can appreciate, I’m well-versed in which cheese is better suited to the dishes I create.”
“And as I’m sure you can appreciate,” Hugh said, “I grew up in a town that worships cheese, so I know my pecorino from my cheddar.”
Rafael struggled to maintain control. “As you wish, Mr. Phelps,” he ground out.
“Thanks, buddy,” Hugh said, with a smug grin.
“Locking the door behind me as usual,” Rafael said. “Eden, Julie asked me to tell you that she and Meg will be dining here within the hour and to please find them on your way out.”
“Absolutely,” I said.
Aggie waved a bony hand. “I propose we get started. I suffered a terrible bout of insomnia last night and I intend to be out like a light before the clock strikes ten.”
“You poor thing,” Adele said. “It’s the age. I know how that feels.”
Aggie proceeded to read the minutes from the last meeting.
“Any news from the town council?” Hugh asked.
“We had our meeting yesterday, in fact,” Husbourne said. It was tradition to have one member sit on both the supernatural and human council as a way of streamlining information and cutting down on gossip. Of course, the human town council didn’t know that Husbourne was essentially a double agent.
“Uneventful?” Adele asked.
“Not entirely,” Husbourne said. “Mayor Whitehead requested a dedicated parking spot.”
“That doesn’t seem unreasonable,” Adele said. “Spots can be hard to come by, especially during festivals or tourist season.”
Husbourne hesitated. “She requested a dedicated parking spot at the waterfront.”
The waterfront was prime real estate. The town earned revenue from the parking meters near the promenade.
“That doesn’t sound like Wilhelmina,” Aggie said. “Are you sure you understood her correctly?”
“Oh, quite sure,” Husbourne said. “The council said we’d discuss it and take a vote. We all seemed to be having the same thought.”
“Maybe she’s ill,” Hugh suggested. “She knows it will hamper her ability to walk, but she’s not ready to share the news yet.”
“Unlikely,” Adele said.
“But not impossible,” Hugh shot back.
Aggie made a contemplative sound. “Well, I guess we’ll have to wait and see how that plays out. Keep us updated, Husbourne.”
Rafael pushed open the door with his back and swung into the room with our drinks and appetizers. He set the tray on a side table and distributed the small glasses of sweet-smelling golden liquid first. Fairy Dust was an old recipe that Aggie had given to Rafael so that the council could enjoy the closest drink to nectar that existed in this world.
I tipped back my glass and let the liquid coat my tongue and throat. It tasted every bit as amazing as it smelled.
“I could devour this whole,” Adele said, eyeing the plate of avocado yogurt dip and chips. It was arranged in the design of a flower. “Rafael, you are such an artist.”
Hugh admired the chunks of cheddar cheese that covered his ravioli. “Looks good.” He shoveled a forkful into his mouth and chewed.
Rafael’s smile tightened. “Normally one does not simply break clumps of cheddar on truffle ravioli—the Calcagno is finely grated so as to…”
Hugh held up a hand. “This is better than the Trio Burger over at the diner. I think I’ve helped you create a new winner, Rafael. You can thank me later.”
The warlock wisely fled the room before he said something he’d regret.
Aggie continued with the meeting, clearly desperate to get home and climb into bed. “We need to talk about Mrs. Huntington.”
“Do we have to?” Hugh complained.
“She claims she saw werewolves near her flowerbeds again,” Aggie said.
Everyone groaned.
“That gnome needs to be banned from filing complaints,” Husbourne said, exasperated.
“Hugh, is there any chance she’s right this time?” Adele asked.
Hugh shrugged. “Doubtful. Nobody in the pack likes to go near her cats. They’re small but feisty.”
“Do we think she’s fed up enough to call the police station this time?” Aggie said. “We don’t want her spouting off to Chief Fox about werewolves. He’ll want her to see a psychiatrist.”
“I’ll talk to her this time,” I offered. It wasn’t fair to make Adele do it every time.
Hugh tapped his fork rhythmically on the edge of the table. “What if she does call the cops?”
“Then I’ll talk to Chief Fox too,” I said. And if I was lucky, we’d do more than talk. Merciful gods. I had to stop thinking like that in front of others. I was sure they could figure out everything from the expression on my face.
“He seems sharp,” Hugh said. “I almost wonder if it’s going to be a problem. Chief O’Neill was a good guy, but not the brightest bulb on the Christmas tree.”
“The chief won’t be a problem,” I said, almost too quickly.
“You know him best,” Adele said. “We trust your judgment.”
“Any FBM news, Eden?” Husbourne asked.
“As you know, the pod demons were taken care of,” I said. “Daily checks of the portal show that it’s still dormant.”
Adele threw a pinch of salt over her shoulder for luck.
“I did have an incident with a vampire recently,” I said. “She was stalking people at The Cheese Wheel. Her name was Gloria and she said she was from out of to
wn and visiting a friend.”
“Did she touch anyone?” Hugh asked, snarling. Werewolves and vampires weren’t exactly the best of friends, even though they lived in the same small town.
“No, I made sure of it,” I said, “but she seemed almost upset by her own behavior. It was strange.”
“Speaking of strange behavior,” Aggie said, “is everyone aware of Father Kevin’s decision to leave the church?”
“I spoke to him about it,” I said. “Ted O’Neill was really upset, so Aunt Thora asked me to talk to the priest and see if there was anything magical at work.”
“People lose faith every day,” Hugh said dismissively. “Why would she worry that magic was behind it?”
“She and Ted are very close,” Aggie interjected. “I’m sure she’s worried about her friend’s state of mind. It hasn’t been very long since Ted lost his brother, remember.”
“While we’re on the subject of losing folks, is anyone else attending Myrtle’s funeral later this week?” Adele asked.
“My family is,” I said. “Well, not my dad, but my mom, Grandma, and Aunt Thora.”
Adele’s lips stretched into a polite smile. “I look forward to seeing them.”
“You don’t have to lie,” I said. “I don’t look forward to seeing them and I have to do it every day.” Okay, that was probably a little harsh with regard to Aunt Thora. She was a gem.
“I think it’s lovely the way the witches have banded together to host her funeral,” Aggie said.
“We’re not all bad,” Adele said, with a pointed look at me. I didn’t need Adele to educate me on my family. I was an expert.
We finished the remainder of our drinks and appetizers and I noted that not a morsel of food was left on anyone’s plate. Rafael would be pleased.
“See ya’ll later,” Husbourne said. He stood and stretched before retrieving his hat from the back of the chair.
“I’m off to bed,” Aggie said. “Hope tonight is better for me.”
“Eden, would you mind staying put?” Adele asked. “I’d like a quick word.”
“Sure.” My stomach twisted into a giant pretzel. If Adele asked me about my relationship with Chief Fox, I would have to lie straight to her face. The thought made me queasy.
“Let us know what happens with Mrs. Huntington,” Hugh said.
Once everyone vacated the room, Adele clasped her hands on the table. “I’d like to talk to you about Rosalie.”
I would have jumped for joy if I hadn’t been seated. “What about her?”
“I hadn’t thought to mention it until the meeting,” Adele began. “Father Kevin is making me wonder…” She tapped her French tips on the table. “Rosalie has been acting oddly.”
What else was new? Rosalie LeRoux was by far the worst of the LeRoux witches. She was more interested in money and men than magic and had no problem pretending to have skills that she didn’t. If you needed a fake psychic for your bridal shower, Rosalie was your witch.
“How so?” I asked.
Adele appeared thoughtful for a moment. “Disconnected from reality, as though she isn’t sure what’s real and what isn’t.”
“A psychotic break?” I asked. That could be very serious for a witch with Rosalie’s abilities.
“No, I don’t think so.” Adele played with the hem of her headscarf. “It’s more…” She shook her head. “Never mind. I’m sure I’m making connections where none exist. I’m just worried about my daughter. She’s always been someone I have to keep an eye on, you see.”
“I understand,” I said.
“Forget I mentioned it, won’t you?”
“Forget what?” I said, and smiled.
“You’re good people, Eden, in spite of your upbringing.”
“Thanks. That means a lot.” I followed Adele out of the private room and scanned the main dining area for Rafael’s wife and sixteen-year-old daughter. I caught sight of them at their usual table in the far corner. They were in the midst of a heated conversation when I approached.
“But I didn’t get in touch to tell you I’d be late,” Meg said. “Why didn’t you send out a search party or a helicopter? Don’t you love me anymore?”
“You’re a big girl,” Julie said. “I knew you were fine.”
“You didn’t even text my friends,” Meg said, visibly annoyed. “What’s the point of keeping all their numbers in your phone if you’re not prepared to use them?”
“I’ve deleted them,” Julie said.
I pulled up a chair. “Is this some kind of reverse psychology experiment?” Julie was notoriously anxious about her daughter’s well-being. Every nightmare scenario seemed to end with Meg dead in a ditch.
Meg pointed a finger at her mother. “See? That’s what I said too.”
Julie held up her hands in acquiescence. “It’s not, I swear. I’m just confident that your father and I have taught you well and that you’ll be okay out on the world on your own.”
Meg and I exchanged glances. Definitely reverse psychology.
“How was your meeting?” Julie asked. “I’m so glad you’ve come back to Chipping Cheddar. I know the town is safe in your capable hands.”
Meg’s eyes bulged. “Aren’t you the same werewolf who thought that Dad should put some magical wiretap in the police station so we could be updated on any crimes in progress and avoid the area?”
I didn’t dare mention that Neville had done exactly that. I’d have to make sure I didn’t slip and mention it to the chief now that he knew about the work Neville and I did.
“I’ve been seeing things more clearly,” Julie said. “I think it’s terrific that you don’t want a phone or any of the technological trappings of your generation. You’ll be better for it.”
Meg’s jaw unhinged. “You’re not going to try and open a secret Instagram account in my name so I look normal?” She put air quotes around the word ‘normal.’
“What about sneaking photos of her and pretending she took a selfie,” I added.
Julie held up a hand as though she were swearing an oath. “No, I promise I will never do that again.”
Meg’s brow lifted. “Mark this day on your calendars, folks.”
“Your paper calendar and my phone because I am completely cool with you only writing down appointments the old-fashioned way,” Julie said.
“I’m a witness,” I said.
“How’s the single life, Eden?” Julie asked. “Your mother said you spend most of your free time in the attic watching television.”
“Oh, did she?”
Meg suppressed a smile.
“My life is fine,” I said. “It’s plenty busy without a husband and children.”
“The right guy will come along when you least expect it,” Julie said. “That’s how it was for me. I never dreamed I’d marry a warlock of all supernaturals.”
“Thanks, but I’m content with the way things are,” I said. Content to spend secret sexy time with Sawyer Fox dancing to Frank Sinatra.
“I want to be like you when I grow up, Eden.” Meg looked at me with stars in her eyes.
“What are you talking about? You’re more grown up at sixteen than I am now,” I said.
“You’re so sure of yourself,” Meg said. “And you live life on your own terms, no matter how much pressure you get from your family.”
I smiled at her. “You seem to be doing a pretty good job of that yourself, Miss Hipster.”
“Mom still treats me like I’m six,” Meg sulked.
“I do not.” Julie threaded her fingers together. “Now, would you like chocolate or vanilla ice cream with sprinkles for dessert?”
Chapter Nine
“This place is going to be so cool when it’s finished,” Sassy said. She sat on a yoga mat on the floor of the barn. John had decided to meditate on his boat today and hope for inspiration to strike, so I knew the barn was a safe place to meet Sassy and ask about Father Kevin.
“Not when,” I said. “If. John is great, but he
seems to get easily distracted.”
Sassy curled into child’s pose. “Well, I’m so pleased that you decided to seek help for your issue.”
“I don’t have an issue.”
She turned and gave me a pointed look. “You’re wound tighter than a yo-yo. That’s not normal for someone our age and definitely not normal for someone as fit as you.”
“You think I’m fit?”
Sassy rolled her eyes. “Eden, you’re a federal agent. Yes, you’re in decent shape.”
“Thanks.” I forgot about the criticism from five seconds ago and focused on the compliment.
“Let’s see if we can get you more limber,” Sassy said. “The chief will thank me for it.”
“Hey,” I said. “You can’t talk about that.”
“Relax, there’s no one here,” Sassy said. She tightened her ponytail. “And I can keep a secret, though I don’t get why you wouldn’t want to slap a ‘taken’ sign on that broad chest. If women think he’s available, you’ll have your work cut out for you. Trust me, I know about dating a hot guy.”
“I think I have some former experience to draw from,” I reminded her.
Sassy flicked her fingers in a dismissive gesture. “That was high school. It doesn’t really count.” She pulled herself into a cross-legged position. “Let’s start with basic breathing techniques.”
I copied her pose and was immediately struck by how uncomfortable I was. “I can’t sit in this position for too long. It bothers my back.”
“It shouldn’t,” Sassy said. “You’re probably out of alignment. Let me try to crack your back.”
I recoiled. “What?” I imagined Sassy breaking my spine so that I spent the rest of my life being pushed around in a wheelchair by my mother. “Do not put your hands on my back!” I practically shrieked.
Sassy stared at me. “I can’t understand what traumatic childhood events shaped you into…this.” She waved a hand. “You seriously need to relax. Do I need to pour tequila down your throat before we stretch? Tell me what it takes.”
I couldn’t possibly explain to her what my childhood had really been like. The constant stress of wondering whether the pot your mother boiled on the stove contained someone’s heart or whether your grandmother’s muttering was an ancient curse about to be unleashed on an unsuspecting victim.
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