by Rachel Green
“Maybe.” Julie took her change and stuffed it into her purse. “The trouble there would be competing with the Tattered Moon on the High Street. They’ve done food for years.”
“I’ll think of something else then. It saves me working for a food hygiene certificate anyway.”
“Would you have needed one?” said Julie, turning to take the food to the table. “Most of your clients would be undead.”
Chapter Eleven
Julie dumped the food onto the Formica-covered table and dropped into a moulded plastic seat. Felicia was playing with the sauce packets, spearing them with coffee stirrers until they bled red sauce and mustard across the table. “Stop that,” she said, smacking the back of Felicia’s wrist. “Someone has to clean up after you.”
Her sister discarded her makeshift soldiers and reached for the cardboard boxes. “Which is mine?” she asked, already going for the largest. Julie declined to answer and instead looked at Gillian, staring out of the window at the ragged coat-tails of the night.
“Are you sure I can’t get you anything?” she said.
The older woman shook her head. “I’d normally jump at someone offering me a meal,” she said, “but not tonight. I have my eye on meatier game.” She gave an upward nod and Julie followed her gaze to the man standing under the lamp-post on the other side of the cobbled street, recognizing him from the night club.
She reached out and touched the cold hand of the vampire. “There are only a couple of hours of darkness left. We can get home on our own if you want to take off.”
“The movies about my kind are a myth, you know.” Gillian gave her a wry smile. “We don’t really change forms. I can no more fly as sunbathe on the beach. I’ll take you up on the offer, though, because the stench of your food is making me nauseous.”
“You know what I mean.” Julie smiled back and Gillian squeezed her hand. She managed to keep her smile, even though her eyes glazed with pain. She didn’t check her skin until the vampire had gone, kissing Felicia on the way past and leaving a bloody lip print on the werewolf’s cheek.
Julie looked down to where the white pressure spots left by Gillian’s fingers were only now beginning to go red. “Good hunting,” she murmured, although only Felicia could hear it.
“Aye.” The werewolf crammed the last of the raw steak mince into her mouth and dabbed the spots of blood with a napkin. “Good hunting,” she said, staring out of the window to where Gillian was leading away her conquest for the night. Her attention shifted to Julie. “How did you persuade them to give you raw meat?”
“I know the woman on the till,” said Julie. “You do too.”
“Do I?” Felicia peered around the edge of the used tray receptacle. “I don’t recognize her with the cap and hairnet and I can’t smell anything with the stink in here. Who is it?”
“Valerie Quarter.”
“Fight Girl? I thought she was a nun. What happened? Did she get laid off?”
“Laid, more like. The convent decided she wasn’t suitable for the decorum befitting a convent.”
“Poor cow.” Felicia picked a sliver of raw meat from her teeth, inspected it and then put it back in her mouth. She washed it down with a mouthful of Julie’s milkshake. “What’s she doing working here? I thought she had more money than Rowling.”
“Not that she can get at, apparently.” Julie retrieved her drink and opened up her second burger. “This was the first job that came along.”
“At least she’s used to service.” Felicia picked up Julie’s discarded gherkin slice and munched it. “Hurry up. I’ve got work in the morning.”
* * * *
“What time is it? I’ve got work in the morning.”
Pennie’s voice roused Winston from his almost-sleep and he held up his arm, squinting at the dial of his wristwatch. “I can’t see, have you got a light?”
“The interior light’s a bit dodgy.” Pennie rubbed her face before rummaging on the floor for her handbag. “I’ve got a phone in here.”
Winston snorted when she pulled it free of the bag. “That’s not a phone,” he said. “That’s a brick.”
“Shut up. I paid a fortune for this when it came out.”
Winston grinned, rubbing the gooseflesh from his arms. “When was that, though?” he said. “Last century?”
“I can’t remember,” said Pennie, scowling in an obvious lie. The mobile bleeped and lit up. “It’s two-twenty-five. We must have dozed off.”
“Damn, woman.” Winston reached for his tee shirt. “I’ve got to be at work in five hours.” He reached into the foot-well with his hand. “Where’re my pants?”
“On the steering column where you left them.” Pennie’s voice was sharper than she’d intended. “I’ve got to be at work by eight as well. Chase is taking me for lunch today.”
“Whoopee–bleedin’-do” Winston squinted at his underwear and gave them a cautious sniff. His grimace was worth a thousand words.
“Sorry,” said Pennie, pulling her dress back over her head and doing her best to straighten it. “I didn’t have time to clean the car before I came out. It’s only pig manure. Nothing to be scared of.”
Winston folded them into a pocket. “There’s a difference between being scared of it and not wanting it in my pants.”
“Blokes get offended when I say I don’t want something in my pants.” Pennie almost twisted double to pull on her heels in the back of the car. She wiped one of the steamed-up windows. “Do you think it’s safe to get out? I can’t see anyone.”
“We’ll be going nowhere very quickly if we stay in the back seat,” said Winston. “Better now than in a couple of hours when the morning traffic starts.”
“I suppose so.” Pennie opened the door and stepped outside. She began to shiver almost immediately. It was much warmer inside the car. She scurried to the front, opened the driver’s door and slid inside. “Pass me my handbag, would you?” she said to Winston behind her. “I need the keys.”
He passed it forward and pulled on his trousers by lying across the length of the back seat.
“All I’m saying is, it’s not polite to be talking about one bloke when you’re still sweaty from another. You know what I mean? I wouldn’t talk about you while I was getting it on with Felicia.”
“No? Who’s Felicia?”
“Just some girl. She’s a bit of a wolf, if you know what I mean.”
“I can guess.” Pennie slid the ignition key in and started the engine, letting out a yell as the demister shot a blast of cold air over her thighs. “Though now you’re talking about her while you’re with me. How is that any better?”
“You brought the subject up.” Winston rammed his feet into his boots and climbed into the passenger seat.
“Only because it’s so late.” Pennie switched on the windscreen wipers, revealing a bright yellow ticket and a circle of streetlights.
“Damn it,” she said. “We got a parking ticket. After I’d pulled off the road as well.”
Winston squinted through the window. “You shouldn’t have parked in the middle of a roundabout.”
* * * *
“What time do you get off?” Julie leaned against the counter, while Valerie wiped all the services and drained the fat from the fryers. She looked up at the clock.
“Half an hour ago. My shift ended at two. If I’d thought about it I could have started cleaning up earlier.”
“How long have you been working here?” Julie glanced back at Felicia, but her sister was being all cold and aloof. She probably hadn’t forgiven Valerie for the last time they’d met, when the ex-nun had tried to kill her with a piece of splintered wood through the throat. Werewolves were funny about bearing grudges. It wasn’t like she didn’t get better.
“I only started tonight when Reverend Mackenzie got me
out of gaol.” Valerie shrugged. “We came in here for a bite to eat, they wanted staff and here I am.”
“With no training or anything?”
“I read the employee’s handbook,” Valerie showed Julie the slim volume beneath the counter. “In two years time I get a privilege day off in addition to my ten days annual leave.” She tossed it back under the counter.
“You’ll get sick days too,” said Julie.
“Only if I’m ill,” Valerie replied. “It’s not as if I can enjoy them, is it?”
“You could always pretend to be ill.” Julie winked.
“That would be wrong.” Valerie’s voice hardened. “That would be lying.”
“This is the real world, love.” Julie patted her hand. “It’s a dog eat dog world out there.”
“We don’t serve dog in here,” said Valerie. She narrowed her eyes and looked at Felicia. “If they’d thought about it, they would have made a rule up about not serving wolves either.”
Felicia lost her detached coolness and laughed. “Only if they find out,” she said.
Valerie began to switch off lights. “At least it’s a job. It’ll establish some credentials for me while I get a grip on life outside a convent.”
They stood outside and waited for her. Julie shivered in her little black dress while Felicia merely grew a little extra fur to compensate for the lack of a coat. “Where are you staying?” she asked when Valerie came out.
“Some woman offered me a sofa to sleep on,” said Valerie, pulling out the card and showing her. “She seems quite nice.”
Felicia laughed. “Meinwen,” she said. “She’s a good friend. You’d better not hurt her, Valerie, or I’m going to hurt you.”
Valerie went silent for a moment, her eyes glittering in the light from the streetlamp outside the Cherokee Coffee Shop. “Noted,” she said at last.
“We’ll drop you off,” said Julie. “We go past there to get to the Parkway and home. There’s a taxi firm in the next street along.”
“Triple-S,” said Valerie. “I remember.”
They walked to the cab firm which was still as Valerie remembered it, open twenty four hours. There were two cabs outside, parked on the double yellow lines. The girls pushed the door open.
Inside the two drivers were drinking coffee and talking to Jarvis, the night dispatcher. They all looked up as the door opened.
“What can I do for you, ladies? Are you all together?” Jarvis put down his coffee cup.
“We are, actually,” said Felicia, turning on the charm. She leaned over the counter to afford all three a generous look down her cleavage, which they desperately tried not to show they were taking advantage of. “My sister and I to Laverstone Manor and this lady to Vicarage Road.”
“That’s on the way,” said the first driver. Felicia nodded. “We know. I’m glad to see you do, too, so you won’t be charging us extra.”
“We wouldn’t do that miss.” Jarvis typed the destination into the keyboard. “Do you want to take this one then, Tom?”
“Sure.” The driver that had offered advice put down his mug.
“Tom?” Valerie stared at him. “Tom Blesset? I didn’t recognize you with the beard.”
“Do I know you?” Tom pulled on his hat and gloves.
“Obviously not.” Valerie looked through the plate glass. “Is there any chance of you warming up your car for a couple of minutes before we get in?”
“If you like.” Tom hesitated at the doorway. “It’ll cost you extra though.”
Felicia looked at Valerie and sighed. “I’ll pay. Just get on with it.” She turned to Jarvis. “Got any more of that coffee?” She leaned forward.
Jarvis forced himself to look at her face. “Coming right up,” he said. “Free of charge, too.”
“Lovely.” Felicia glanced through the window at Tom as he climbed into his cab. The door slammed and she heard the engine start up. “Make it three cups,” she said. “We can spare the time. It’s another hour or more until dawn.”
“I still need to sleep,” said Julie. “Can we forego the coffee and just get home, please?”
“All right.” Felicia winked at Jarvis. “Another time, handsome.”
“You know where I am,” he said.
The journey home was uneventful but for Tom’s bark of laughter as they went round the Parkway Roundabout and he pointed out a car parked in the middle, its windows steamed up and a parking ticket taped to the windscreen.
Chapter Twelve
Valerie watched the tail-lights of the taxi vanish into the night and shivered. She turned to look at the dark house at the end of the driveway, fairly certain that Meinwen had planned upon her arriving a little earlier than almost three in the morning. When she had taken tea in the little pagan shop she hadn’t had a night job to go to.
She opened the gate, wincing as the ensuing squeak passed the audible range. To her left was the bulk of the Priest’s house, though Valerie had no idea yet who the parish priest of St. Pity’s might be. She would find out soon enough, though it was to be hoped that it wasn’t the old man who ministered to the convent. He knew a little too much about her already.
Meinwen’s house was set much further back and afforded the priests a clear view of her front door and living room. Wasn’t it just like them to be nosy? It was likely that in former years this was the residence of the servants and the Church would want to keep an eye on their comings and goings. It was a half-timbered cottage, dark at this time of the morning but numerous hand and foot holds were easy to see even in the faint light from the sliver of visible moon.
Valerie began a slow circuit of the house moving, in deference to a lifetime of Catholicism, clockwise. The side of the house facing the priest’s garden afforded her an entrance where a window was partly open. Taking a quick look around―the last thing she needed was another arrest for breaking and entering. She slid the window up, took a fingertip grip on the sill protecting the window from rain and climbed inside.
Spoons clattered to the floor as she arched her back over the sink and snaked out an arm to save a china tea cup from following them. Once upright, she replaced the cup on its saucer, picked up the spoons and took stock of her surroundings.
She was in a galley kitchen. Although it was dark she could reach the opposite wall with her hands when her back was against the sink. It was a kitchen for one; a far cry from the huge ranges of the convent refectory.
Wary of putting on any lights and disturbing the witch’s sleep, Valerie slipped toward the back of the house, passing under the stairs and out of the kitchen. A flagstone floor ran the length of the back of the cottage with a pair of French windows allowing egress into the garden beyond. They opened as Valerie crept past.
Meinwen screamed and dropped the bundle she was holding. “Heaven’s gate,” she said when she reached the light switch and saw who it was. “You gave me the fright of my life. What are you doing, creeping about?”
“I was very late,” said Valerie. “I assumed you to be asleep and crept in through the kitchen window. I was looking for somewhere to sleep.”
“Please don’t creep about,” said Meinwen. She picked up the bundle she’d dropped and placed it on a battered table to untie the string. Valerie spotted a curved blade at her belt.
“A Sickle,” said Meinwen, following her gaze. “I’ve been collecting herbs.”
“At night?” Valerie stepped forward to look. “Valerian, aconite, digitalis and thyme,” she said.
“You know your herbs,” said Meinwen. “Impressive. Perhaps you could give me a hand with them.”
“Why were you cutting them at night?”
“Moon gardening,” said Meinwen. “It’s all the rage these days.”
Valerie frowned. “Really? I’ll have to remember that.”
Meinwen crossed the room into the tiny kitchen and Valerie heard the sound of water falling into a tin vessel. “Do you want tea?”
“Please.” Valerie looked down at the herbs. The first was used to cure insomnia, the next two were poisons and the fourth was for culinary use. It seemed to be the odd one out.
“How come you were so late?” asked Meinwen from the kitchen. “I was expecting you at six.”
“I went to see Reverend Mackenzie.” Valerie crossed to the arch so she could see her host. “I met him last year and wanted to ask for his advice. His door was locked too but someone called the police and I got arrested. He had to bail me out. After that he took me to a café for some coffee, they were looking for night staff and I started work on the spot.”
“You don’t hang around, do you?” Meinwen laughed, taking the kettle off the stove as it began to whistle. “In twenty four hours or less, you’ve been thrown out of a convent, had your antique rosary stolen, been arrested for breaking and entering and got a job in a café. You are an amazing woman.”
“Just a child of God.” Valerie neglected to mention meeting up with a werewolf and a vampire. Some things could stretch the credulity of her host a little too far.
“Here we are then.” Meinwen filled two mugs with the hot water and handed one to Valerie, who looked down into her mug of hot water with more than a little confusion. “I thought you said tea?”
“I did.” Meinwen went to the fresh herbs and broke off two sprigs of the thyme, dropping one into each of their cups. “Thyme tea,” she said. “It works wonders for the digestion.”
Vixen looked down at the tiny sprig doing a slow circuit of her cup. “I don’t have a problem with my digestion,” she said.
* * * *
Rather than alert his neighbours to his night-time comings and goings, Winston asked Pennie to drop him off half way down Butts Lane. A peck on the cheek, a brief, if honest, “I’ll call you,” and a two minute walk up an alley brought him to the back gate of his seventies semi.