I pursed my lips. “Are you attacking my culinary skills?”
“I happen to love cereal.”
“Good.”
“That was the last of it, though. You’re also out of eggs, fresh fruit, yogurt and anything else that could be considered a breakfast food. I don’t want to tell you how to eat or anything, but breakfast is the most important meal of the day.”
He wasn’t wrong. “I’ll run to the store.”
“Good girl.” He mock saluted. “I will call you as soon as I can. If I have something you can help with, I’m more than willing to spend another day with you as my sidekick. I have to go to the prosecutor’s office straightaway, though, and I doubt very much he’d find you as charming as I do.”
“You’re probably right.” I sipped my coffee. “I’ll be around when you get a new lead.”
“What if I don’t get a new lead?”
“You will.”
“How can you be so sure?”
I shrugged. “You’re you. I’m pretty sure you don’t quit until you’re satisfied with the outcome.”
Galen shot me a hot and flirty look. “You have no idea how right you are about that.”
I swallowed hard. “So … um … I’ll talk to you later, okay?” It was an effort to get out the words without fanning my face, which felt as if it was on fire thanks to Galen’s innuendo.
“You definitely will.”
THE FIRST ORDER OF business was tracking down Booker. He was exactly where I’d expected him to be, finishing up work on the beach tourism center. He barely acknowledged my appearance when I turned up in the open doorway.
“You’re almost done, huh?”
Booker nodded. “I will be glad to get out of here. I don’t ever remember getting so many visitors to a gig before.”
If he expected me to feel guilty he was going to be bitterly disappointed. “I came to ask you a question.”
As if sensing I was about to turn things serious, Booker opted to take control of the conversation. “Did Galen find you yesterday?”
“He did.”
“Did you guys make up?”
“We were never really fighting.”
“That’s not how it felt to me.”
“Well … we’re fine.” I shifted from one foot to the other, uncomfortable. “I’m going to ask you a question. You don’t have to answer it, although I think you already know that. It’s just … I can’t stop thinking about it. People keep saying weird things about you and I have to know.”
Booker kept his eyes on the lettering he was finishing up, his fingers steady and his gaze even. “I’ve been expecting this for a bit. Lay it on me.”
“Okay, well … .” I licked my lips and squared my shoulders. “What are you?”
“I’m a Pisces. Some people say that means I’m moody, think the world is out to get me, and occasionally dramatic, but I don’t put much stock in astrology.”
I knew exactly what he was trying to do. “You know what I mean.” I refused to back down. “Everyone on this island has a secret. Galen told me that and then he proved it when he turned into a big freaking wolf on the highway one night to save me from a stalker who turned out to be hired by Ned.”
“So, because Galen can turn into a wolf you’re wondering if I can do something similar,” Booker mused. “To satisfy your curiosity, the answer is no. I’m not a shifter. I don’t get hairy under the full moon … or any other day of the week, for that matter. In truth, I struggle growing a full beard. I’m often jealous of Galen’s hair-sprouting skills.”
Somehow I’d already deduced he wasn’t a shifter, although I had no idea how. “I know. You’re not a vampire either. I met that weird dude who runs the funeral home yesterday, by the way. He did something to fuzz my brain and upset Galen. He promised not to do it again, but I’m not so sure. I didn’t ask Galen specifics about vampires because it didn’t seem like the time, but that’s totally coming.”
“He’s a bloodsucker,” Booker supplied. “He can’t go out in direct sunlight, but he can work during the day … as you saw. He survives on animal blood, which he gets from the area farms. He’s been strictly forbidden to snack on tourists, so if you see him doing anything of the sort you should definitely report him to Galen. Other than that, he’s a normal guy.”
“He’s creepy.”
“He’s definitely creepy,” Booker agreed. “A lot of people are creepy, though.”
I waited for him to expand, to volunteer information, but he focused all his attention on the letters he’d so painstakingly applied to the window the previous day. Apparently he only had touch-ups left and then he was done.
“Booker … .”
“I know you want me to tell you what I am, but it’s not something I normally do,” Booker supplied. “I try to keep my private business private.”
“But Galen knows.”
“And he obviously didn’t tell you, which is driving you insane.” Booker’s lips quirked. “The thing is, this island is full of paranormal beings, but it works because we basically stay out of each other’s business. We all know about each other, but we never mention it. It’s like an unspoken rule or something.”
“Except everyone has something to say about your romantic habits and I didn’t grow up on this island,” I countered. “I have no idea what’s real or mythology. I didn’t know I was a witch until a few weeks ago and I’m still trying to deal with that.
“For example, did you know I had some sort of psychic flash while I was at Barbie Conner’s house yesterday?” I continued. “I mean … it was an actual flash. I saw a fight between her and Ashley and then I listened as Henry and Barbie talked about having a secret.”
“I’m guessing this was before they divorced,” Booker noted. “My understanding is that they rarely talk since the divorce, and there were all sorts of weird accusations in the divorce paperwork.”
“Is that really important considering the conversation we’re having?”
“I’m just pointing it out.”
“This is all new to me,” I pressed. “I get that you don’t want to talk about it and I’ll respect your decision not to tell me.” I paused a beat. “Okay, I won’t respect it, but I’ll figure out a way to deal. I know it’s none of my business. I just … wanted to know.”
Booker didn’t immediately say anything, instead focusing on his task. When it became apparent he wasn’t going to start spilling his guts I heaved out a sigh.
“I should get going.” I turned to leave. “I promised Galen I’d pick up some groceries. Apparently I’m not very domestic. I need to learn to get better at that.”
Still nothing from Booker.
“So, um, I guess I’ll see you around.” The moment my feet hit the front walk he finally spoke.
“Wait,” he barked, his temper on full display as he cursed under his breath and stomped his foot. “Wait a minute.”
I tried to tamp down my excitement, instead pasting a puzzled expression on my face as I swiveled. “What?”
“Oh, don’t play innocent with me.” Booker screwed up his face into a frustrated expression. “You’re about to get your way and you know it.”
I was so excited I could barely contain myself. “You don’t have to. I understand your need for privacy.”
Booker extended a warning finger. “You are the world’s worst actress,” he groused. “I mean … seriously. You’re not fooling anyone.”
I didn’t care about fooling anyone if he was about to share his deep, dark secret. “I’m sorry if I’m making this difficult for you.”
“Knock it off.” Booker’s eyes flashed as he licked his lips and returned the paintbrush he held to a small palette on the ground. “Okay, I’m going to tell you. The only reason I’m going to do it is because I know someone else eventually will. My money is on Lilac – she can’t keep her mouth shut – but I know it will happen. I figure it’s better you hear it from me.”
The way he phrased it had me worried. Perhaps he
was something bad and our relationship would be forever changed by the revelation. The possibility gave me pause. “Um … .”
Booker ignored my indecision. “Here it is … and if you laugh I won’t talk to you ever again.”
Laugh? That didn’t sound so bad. “If you’re a shark shifter I’m totally going to throw you a party.”
“I already told you I’m not a shifter.”
“Oh, right.” Crap. He did tell me that. “So … what are you?”
Booker sucked in a breath. “I’m a cupid. Now, reach into my bag over there and grab the flask in the pocket. I need a drink.”
A cupid? That was so not what I was expecting. I did as he instructed, though, taking advantage of the momentary distraction to run the notion through my head. When I straightened and handed him the metal flask he was watching me closely. I figured it was for signs of laughter, but I was more confused than anything else.
“I don’t understand,” I said after a beat. “Cupids are supposed to wear diapers and fly around so they can shoot people with love arrows. You look nothing like a cupid.”
Booker made an exaggerated face as he downed a shot of whatever was in the flask. “You’re letting pop culture fuel your knowledge base. That’s not what a cupid is.”
“So … what is a cupid? Are you saying you don’t help people fall in love?” Saying the words triggered something in my brain. “Wait … everyone and their brother says that people are magically attracted to you. Is that a cupid thing?”
Despite my excitement, Booker remained morose as he nodded. “Yeah. That’s a cupid thing. Women are naturally attracted to me. That’s why I go through them so quickly.”
“I don’t understand. Wouldn’t you be infatuated with the idea of love if you were a cupid?”
“I am a cupid and I am not infatuated with the idea of love,” Booker shot back. “It’s not like that.”
“How is it?”
“Well … women are drawn to me.” He was no-nonsense. “They can’t stop themselves from wanting me.”
“Which is how you ended up dating two women at once.”
“Which is how I ended up having sex with two women at once,” Booker corrected. “I don’t date. Do you want to know why?”
Actually, I did. “Yes.”
“Because the things these women feel for me – or at least think they feel for me – aren’t real,” he replied. “They’re attracted to me because of what I am and not who I am. It’s chemical. Pheromones and all that other jazz. It’s not funny, so don’t laugh.”
The last thing I wanted to do was laugh now that I knew a little more about his predicament. “I’m sorry.” I held up my hands in capitulation. “I truly am sorry. I didn’t even think about how hard this is on you. It must be difficult constantly wondering if what people feel is real.”
“It’s not real.”
“You don’t know that,” I countered. “Just because the first jolt of lust might not be real, that doesn’t mean that true love can’t spring from it.”
“Yes, but I will never know if what people claim to feel is real or a byproduct of what I am. That’s why I’m destined to be alone.”
That made me inexplicably sad. “I don’t believe that. I’m sure there’s a way around your little problem.”
“Oh, honey, it’s not a little problem.”
I frowned. “That’s such a man thing to say.”
“It’s true.”
“Whatever.” My mind was already working. “I’ll conduct some research. I’ll figure it out.”
“And I thought my day couldn’t get any worse.” Booker slapped his hand to his forehead. “I’m going to regret telling you. I just know it.”
“You won’t. It’s going to work out. In fact … wait a second.” Something occurred to me. “You said that women throw themselves at you. Is that all women?”
“Basically.”
“But I’ve never felt inexplicably drawn to you,” I pointed out. “I was never warm for your form and rubbing myself against you whenever you visited. To me you were just a normal guy.”
Booker chuckled, although the sound was hollow and humorless. “That is the rub, isn’t it? You’re apparently immune to my charms. May was, too.”
“So maybe all witches are immune to your powers,” I suggested. “We just need to find you a witch.”
Booker snagged my gaze for a long moment and I felt something heavy pass between us. Luckily for us both, he didn’t bring it up. “I’ve been around other witches. They come to the island all the time and they throw themselves at me like everybody else.”
“That could just be because they’re on vacation,” I argued. “Sometimes you want to hook up when you’re on vacation. It doesn’t necessarily mean anything. You’re pretty. You would make an appealing hook-up option.”
“Oh, I think that’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me,” Booker mocked, pressing his hand to the spot above his heart. “I’m going to write about that in my journal later. Thank you so very much.”
I rolled my eyes. “I was just saying that maybe witches are an option for you. We can test the idea. There’s no reason to be all morose about things. You might be able to find a woman who is immune to you.”
“That would be nice.” Booker offered a half-smile that didn’t make it all the way to his eyes. “That was one of the reasons I liked hanging around May so much. You have no idea how frustrating it is to have someone constantly propositioning you in a sexual manner.”
“You might be surprised. Women have that happen all the time.”
“Yeah, well, it’s a pain,” Booker muttered. “That’s why I never get serious with anyone. That’s why I don’t date. I’m doomed to this life and I’m fine with it.”
He didn’t sound fine with it. “Wait … weren’t your mother and father cupids? I mean … that’s how you’re a cupid, right?”
“My father was,” Booker replied. “My mother was something else.”
“A witch?”
“Just … something.” Booker vehemently shook his head. “We’re not getting into that, so don’t even try. I already spilled my guts once today. It’s not going to happen a second time.”
“That’s fine. The cupid thing is more than enough to work with for the time being.”
He looked hopeful. “You’re going to stay out of it?”
That seemed unlikely. “We’ll figure something out. Maybe there’s a spell or something we can try.”
Booker scowled. “You don’t even know how to be a proper witch. I’m not letting you cast a spell.”
“Oh, don’t be a spoilsport.” I was lost in my own head. “Where would I find books on cupids? Wait, never mind. You’re not going to tell me. I’ll figure it out on my own.”
“Yup, I’m definitely going to regret telling you,” Booker groused, making a disgusted sound in the back of his throat. “This is going to come back and bite me in the behind.”
“I think you’re exaggerating.”
“And I think I’m done talking to you for the day.” Booker made a shooing motion with his hands. “Go away.”
“Oh, I’m not even close to being done.”
“That’s exactly what I was afraid of.”
21
Twenty-One
I considered stopping by the station to see Galen once I’d finished talking to Booker. Okay, to be fair, Booker simply got tired of talking to me, so he sent me on my way. I had plenty of questions to ask him, but he wasn’t in the mood to answer. It was a small island and there was no place to hide, so I left Booker to his work and headed to the grocery store.
I stocked up to the point I figured Galen would be wowed when next he looked inside my refrigerator – even grabbing an extra toothbrush and razor in case he forgot to bring one to the lighthouse – and then headed home.
I took an extra-long time putting things away in the hope that May would appear so I could ask her about Booker’s cupid lineage. Other than once or twice on o
ther floors, she almost always showed up for visits when I was in the kitchen. She didn’t appear today, which was disheartening.
In fact, it had been days since I’d seen her. I ran the realization through my head as I climbed the spiral staircase to the library on the third floor, frowning as I did the math. She was there the night we thought someone might have broken in, but she disappeared as quickly as she appeared. That was almost forty-eight hours ago and I hadn’t heard a peep from her since. That was unusual, to say the least. Even though she wasn’t forthright and eager to spend time with me – especially when I had questions that needed answers – she almost always popped up every day, even if she stayed for only a few minutes.
Worry about May took a backseat when I hit the library – which was more of an office-laboratory combined – and a blast of cold air hit me in the face. I shuddered as I glanced around, confusion washing over me. There was something off about the room … although I had no idea what.
My first instinct was to flee. Yeah, I’m not the bravest soul when it comes to situations that horror movies have warned me about. One of my biggest fears was becoming a cautionary tale. Like, for example, I didn’t want to turn into an idiotic babysitter who forgets her charges and gets put in a bed with a tombstone like the chick from the original Halloween. I also didn’t want to visit a summer camp because good things could never happen there.
Now, standing in a room in my own home that felt decidedly inhospitable, I certainly wanted to run. I steeled myself, though, and instead focused on the contents of the room and refused to let myself bolt back down the stairs.
On second glance, everything seemed to be in its place … if slightly off. I headed to the bench at the far wall, the one that held an assortment of beakers and test tubes, and looked over the box of ingredients I found there not long after moving in. At the time, I didn’t know what to make of the equipment. Now I knew May used it to mix potions and other things – although my witch knowledge was so lacking I had no idea what those other things were – but the box looked as if someone had been rummaging inside.
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