“Go back to sleep, love,” Valencia said softly, reaching out to check his forehead like looking for a fever. He reached out with an IV taped to his hand, brushing Valencia’s arm gently in a show of affection before it settled on his stomach and he seemed to go back to sleep.
No wonder Wren hadn’t told me about her at first. If this was what Valencia was dealing with on a daily basis, I was surprised she had agreed to meet with me at all.
“Can I get you guys anything?” she asked, moving further inside. “Tea? Water?”
“No,” I said hastily. “I'm good.” The last thing I wanted was for her to have to go to any trouble.
Wren fixed Valencia with a look. “You sit your butt down,” she said frankly. “I’m fetching you water.
There was a crooked smile on her face, like she realized she had been outmaneuvered. “Okay,” she said, sinking into the couch. It was big enough for the three of us, although there was an armchair near it too, closer to the hospital bed.
“When did he come home?” Wren asked.
I felt like an intruder, because I sort of was, in a way. It wasn't my conversation, wasn't my family. I didn’t even know his name.
“Last week,” she said with a faint smile. “He's on an experimental trial, but we won't know how it’s going for another couple weeks.” She glanced at me and then winced, apologetic. “I’m sorry,” she said.
“No, no, no,” I said, holding my hands up before she could continue. “No need to be sorry.”
“This is Mix,” Valencia said, nodding to the young man. “He’s my fiancé.”
“I’m sorry you’re having to go through this,” I said, sympathy seeping into my pores. “I lost my mother to cancer.”
The look she gave me was surprise, although it was wrapped in layers I couldn’t decipher. Was she surprised at my surprise, or what I had said, or something else?
“So, Wren said you needed to talk about something?” She took a sip of the water bottle Wren handed her, before Wren settled back on the couch. I was on the far left, Wren in the middle.
“Did you hear about Mildred's murder?” Wren asked.
“Of course.” There was a slight furrow between her brows. “Do they suspect her?” She nodded towards me.
“Basically,” Wren said with a disgruntled expression. “Mildred pulled her usual, and Lou happened to be in the way. She inherited the apartment upstairs.”
Surprise again, but then it morphed to something more neutral. “My sympathies,” she said to me, and it sounded genuine. “I know exactly what Mildred can be like when she gets on a rampage.”
“She could have been worse,” I said, although I wasn’t sure why. Maybe I didn’t want to contribute to the idea that I had disliked her enough to kill her. Maybe it was some other reason.
Wren snorted. “I was wondering if you saw anything unusual in her last few weeks.”
Valencia took another sip of the water bottle and then looked at it. No, not at it, but like she was looking through it. It was the sort of far-gazing look that people got when zoning out.
Had we made a mistake? She obviously had a lot going on, and I didn’t want to pressure her into giving answers.
Wren reached out and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling Valencia into a hug. Valencia held her back for a second, and then sat back up, looking more determined. “Not really any changes the last few weeks,” she said. “I mean, Millie was supposed to come into town, and Mildred was never thrilled about that, but she wasn’t much crankier than normal.”
“Go figure,” Wren muttered.
I glanced at her quizzically. I was also fairly certain that her ‘normal’ crankiness was higher than it was for most people.
“Millie also owns the coffee shop,” Valencia explained. “Sometimes she likes drop by, just to make sure that Mildred's not ruining it.”
Based on that philosophy or train of thought alone, I could guess why the siblings didn't like each other.
“Something may have been different,” Valencia said, looking disappointed. “I’ve just been at the hospital so much I can barely remember what day it is. I missed so many shifts.”
“No, that's fine,” I said, more than understanding. I couldn't even think about how often we’d been at the hospital in Mom's last six months. I knew most of the oncology nurses on sight, and they knew us. “Before hospice, we spent a lot of time –” I swallowed thickly. The words were threatening to choke me, which hadn’t happened in a few days, weeks. “It was hard,” I finished simply. “I understand.”
I felt Wren reach over and squeeze my hand, offering some show of support. It didn't really help, but it couldn't really hurt, either. I squeezed her hand back, grateful.
“I'm sorry I can't really help you,” Valencia said, her eyes straying from the water bottle and going to Mix’s monitors. He was starting to stir, shifting position.
Wren stood, glancing apologetically at me. “We should probably go.”
“Hold on,” Valencia said. “If he’s up to it, I'd like him to meet Lou.”
Wren looked at me, and I nodded. I wasn't thrilled, but I could handle it. I was an exotic creature at the moment, a new witch in a place that didn't see many new witches.
“Mix?” Valencia said, gently shaking his shoulder.
I tried not to, but I blinked in amusement. It seemed like such a strange name.
“He worked as a DJ for a while,” Valencia said, as if she could have guessed the reason for my reaction.
Maybe she could. If that was his name, I highly doubted I was the first person to react like that.
“Hey,” Valencia said, tapping him gently on the shoulder.
His eyelids opened sluggishly and the smile she gave him almost broke my heart. I'd seen that smile before; the smile of somebody who was losing who they loved but was determined to put a good face on.
It was never a fun smile to give, and almost a worse smile to receive.
“Who are they?” he asked, glancing over at Wren and I. Recognition flickered in his eyes. “Wren? Haven’t seen you in a while.” His throat sounded dry, the words hoarse.
“Been a bit busy,” Wren said with a tired smile. It was what happened when the fake cheerfulness ran out.
Mix turned to look at me, looking decidedly more interested. “Who’s this?” He was too tired to nod, so he raised his hand to gesture vaguely in my direction.
“This is the new witch I was telling you about,” Valencia said.
“New?” He looked decidedly more interested, decidedly more awake.
“Sam's daughter,” she said, although the way she said it made it clear she didn't know exactly who Sam was.
“That's me,” I said, not sure what else to say. “My name’s Lou.”
“Nice to meet you,” Mix said, struggling to keep his dark grey eyes open. “Sorry we can't meet under better circumstances.” His voice was dry, and I got a glimpse of the sense of humor he must've had when he was well.
The gallows humor would serve him well, in the trenches of his illness.
“It just takes time,” Valencia said firmly. She was holding onto hope, and I couldn’t blame her. I knew exactly how hard that situation could be, and I wasn't going to take anything from her.
“Where'd you come from?” he asked, regarding me with curious eyes.
“Washington,” I said. “The Northwest.”
“Never been there,” he said thoughtfully. “Hear they have good music, though.”
“I've heard that too,” I said with a laugh.
Valencia was watching his vitals carefully, and when she turned to look at me, her eyes were guarded. “You should probably go,” she said, although she sounded reluctant. Maybe she was just that desperate for human interaction. I remembered hitting that point with my mother, when you were happy to talk to pretty much anybody, because you couldn’t think of the last time you had a proper adult conversation.
“I'll come by again,” Wren promised, reaching out and squ
eezing Valencia’s shoulder.
“I'd like that,” she said. She glanced at her boyfriend. “So would he,” she added, even though he'd pretty much gone back to sleep.
Wren’s smile wobbled, which surprised me. She was hiding something. What was it?
“See you later,” Wren said, giving her a brief hug before we went out the door. We’d made it half a block before she spoke again. “I didn't expect him to be home. Sorry about that.”
“I don't expect you to be psychic,” I said, trying to figure out where her guilt was coming from. She was obviously bothered by something. Then I got sidetracked. “Can witches be psychic?” I asked suspiciously.
Wren laughed, stopped, and put her hands on her hips before she cracked her back. “No, we can’t.” She looked and sounded lighter than she had when we had left, something I was grateful for.
“Too bad she didn’t have more information,” I said, without any judgment. I couldn’t blame her for that.
“We’re still missing a piece,” Wren said, scratching her head and then running her hands through her hair to restore its dyed glory. “Something changed, it had to have.”
“We could go look at the shop,” I said carefully.
Wren shook her head. “Not yet,” she said. “I think there's a point in time when that's a good idea, and there's a point in time when we’d be courting disaster.” She grinned. “Trying to keep it towards the former.”
“So you’re saying we’ll go break into the coffee shop eventually,” I translated.
“Only when it’s not likely to get us both in jail,” Wren said frankly.
“But I inherited the place! Sort of.”
Wren didn’t look convinced. I laughed, the sort of free sound that I hadn’t felt in a long time. “Let’s go back to my place and strategize,” Wren said.
I grinned at her, wide and toothy. “Let’s go.”
Chapter Seventeen
I was sitting at Wren’s table, sipping coffee, when there was a knock on the door. Before Wren could answer, it opened and Ethan walked in. His red hair was going everywhere, almost like he had stuck his finger in an electric socket.
“You’re up early,” Wren said, nodding towards the coffee machine. “Help yourself.”
Ethan sighed, obviously resigned to something. Then there was a dim voice on his radio, and he put it to his ear. “We’ll be there soon.” He put the radio back on his hip. “I need to borrow Lou.”
I froze, startled.
Wren moved closer, defensive. “She didn’t do anything.”
“You're not in trouble,” he said. “There's trouble at the coffee shop.”
I straightened up. Whether it was mine or not, I sort of felt a bit responsible for it, living above it. In as mysterious a way as it had been assigned to me, it still had. “Let's go,” I said, coffee now relegated to lowest priority. I hoped to never have to say that or think that again. Coffee should have always been a high priority.
“Call me!” I heard Wren shout as I headed out the front door. To my surprise, Mocha was chilling in the back seat of Ethan’s car. Getting in the passenger side, I turned back to look at her.
“Where have you been?” I asked.
“I’m a busy creature,” Mocha said with a dismissive shrug. “And you didn’t come home.”
I didn’t know what to say to that, so I turned to Ethan as he got in the car. “When did she appear?”
“About three minutes ago,” he said, putting the car in gear. “Scared the heck out of me.”
“Can all familiars do that?” I gave Mocha A Look.
“There's a lot of things I can do that you don't know about,” Mocha said, managing to sound extremely smug.
“I don't doubt that one bit,” I said.
Mocha chuckled, as if she appreciated my humor. For a familiar, she had spent less time with me than I had anticipated. It did make me wonder about what she did in her free time. There had to be something. Was she looking into things on her own end? Or something a lot more benign?
“What's going on?” I asked, something I hadn't had the luxury of asking moments earlier.
Although most of Ethan's attention was on driving, he had enough focus to twist his face into a frown. “Millie is having a meltdown at the coffee shop,” he said.
“How did she get in?” I was aware it was a dumb question the moment that I finished it. After all, Addie had been able to walk me through getting in there. Millie was Mildred’s sister, and both were witches, so of course she knew how to get in. Advanced magic or not, it was probably child’s play for adult witches.
“I want you to stay back,” Ethan said firmly, just as my building came into view.
“Okay,” I said, planning mostly to follow my own rules.
Maybe.
He parked not far from my car, and I could see a couple squad cars parked at odd angles in front of the coffee shop. There was shouting, and the sound of glass breaking.
She really was going crazy.
I got out at the same time Ethan did, Mocha hopping out by my side. “I'll just –”
“Stay over there.” Ethan didn't pay me much attention, waving a distracted hand at me before heading over to the other officers.
“I heard you visited Valencia,” Addie said, appearing out of nowhere like a ninja.
I bit back a scream, my heart racing a mile a minute. Maybe she was a ninja. Maybe witches were related to ninjas. Strange, yes, but not necessarily stranger than everything I'd been subjected to in the past few weeks.
“Valencia?” I asked, trying to take deep breaths to calm my heart rate down. The last thing I needed in this town was to have a heart attack.
“Don't play coy,” she said, rolling her eyes in a gesture that seemed uncharacteristic of someone seemingly old and dignified. “She didn’t give you much info, then. I’m assuming you’re attempting to protect your shop.”
I felt sick to my stomach, the churning distracted and sending acid up to claw at my esophagus. “It's not my shop,” I said. “Not really.”
Addie made a doubtful noise, but her eyes were kind. “We should see what she's doing.”
“Ethan said –”
Addie was already moving. Telling myself I was being responsible for her safety, I followed, Mocha at my heels. Broken glass was everywhere.
“Do you need boots?” I asked Mocha. Millie apparently hadn’t bothered with the front door, instead just bashing the window in with a chair.
“I’m magic,” Mocha said dryly. “I’m impervious.”
I gave her a skeptical look but left it alone.
“Well, that's going to take a lot to clean,” Addie said with a disappointed sniff.
I was fairly certain at that point she was talking about the glass, maybe the mess. “You've a strange sense of priorities,” I said.
Addie didn't even look at me. “I get that a lot,” she said instead.
“Do you think she’s still in there?” I peered through the big hole, trying to dodge the police officers who were inside.
“Most likely,” Addie said. She had both hands on her cane now and was peering at the wall like she could see through it. “Well, let’s go in.” She opened the front door, spry, and walked in. I followed, curiosity winning out over everything else.
The discussion inside stopped.
“Um, ma’am, you’re not –”
I watched as Addie drew herself up into an imposing little old lady, giving him a glare worthy of Mildred herself. “This is Lou’s property now, is it not?” She gestured towards me.
I tried to look authoritative but, hearing smashing glass, I probably looked more terrified.
“It's not fair!” I heard Millie shout.
“Welcome to life,” I muttered under my breath. How had she not learned that by now? Still, I wanted to know more about her and her family, to figure out why I’d been left the coffee shop.
“Oh my,” Addie said, sounding simultaneously impressed and surprised at the same time.
She was still ahead of me, looking into the kitchen through the serving window.
Throwing caution to the wind and ignoring the skeptical police officers, I moved next to her. Immediately I wished I hadn’t.
“Is that what I think it is?” I said, sounding strangled.
“A frankly impressive amount of drugs,” Addie said helpfully.
I opened my mouth, and then closed it. Well, whether it had been left to me or not, it didn't look like I was going to get the coffee shop any time soon. Drugs. I was incredulous.
“Don't know if I've ever seen a stash that big,” Addie mused.
“Do you know what it is?” I asked, eyeing the various colored bags. There were some that were a lighter color, some twisted up in small, dark-colored trashbags. Probably ready to sell.
The police were still investigating the cabinets, which apparently hadn’t been a target of Millie’s rage, but had fallen when she destroyed the supports. I could see her handcuffed in the far corner, seething.
Ethan was standing not far away from her, rubbing his forehead. “I don’t get paid enough for this,” he said to nobody in particular.
“None of us do,” I heard the tall woman next to him mutter.
He grinned at her, a shared entertainment. But that wasn't the man I'd seen him kiss, so who was she? Probably police, I decided after a second. She also seemed way too entertained by the drugs, amused rather than fazed. She just was dressed more like in street clothes, rather than a police uniform.
“You would think this would chill her out,” the woman said conversationally.
Sally. That was her name. I didn’t 100% remember where I'd seen her before, but I recognized her face.
I turned to look at Addie, who was smirking. Ethan caught sight of us and, sighing, headed over.
“Aren’t you supposed to stay out of trouble?” he said, without any bite.
“I'm guessing I'm not going to get this coffee shop any time soon,” I said. Even if it was mine.
Ethan’s shrug was noncommittal. “Won’t know until this whole thing is processed.”
“But it is drugs?” I asked.
“Thought it was sugar. Sally here took a sniff.” He nodded towards her. “Got a bit high. She used to work drug crimes.”
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