The phone was locked, and after a few attempts, I gave up trying to open it. Instead, I swiped down, checking to see what the newest notifications showed. The phone displayed five unanswered phone calls from a blocked number, a text message that looked like it was written in code, and a reminder that it was his turn on a knockoff Scrabble game.
If I had Declan’s resources, I would be able to get into the phone. Hopefully, Cade had some IT guy on staff and we wouldn’t need to send it out.
I headed down into the servants’ area of the house. I was starving, my stomach rolling over itself in hunger. This was the most I had eaten and slept in weeks, and now that I had somewhere safe to sleep and good food on hand, my body was desperate for both.
In the kitchen, I found the day chef. He took one look at me, and his eyebrows went up.
“Consort Bartlett?” He nodded his head, half a bow. He had black hair streaked with gray and a trim figure. He wore kitchen whites, a red apron around his waist with a towel hanging from it. Laugh lines and crow’s feet wrinkled his copper skin.
“You must be Louis. I was hoping to get some breakfast or… brunch?” I took a guess at the time based on the light coming in from the window.
“Of course!” He set to work preparing a plate, stealing food from what was simmering on the stove and some leftovers in the refrigerator. “I’m sorry I haven’t had a chance to welcome you yet.”
“No. I’m sorry I haven’t come in before. The duck you prepared was delicious.”
His shoulders drew back, and he smiled, presenting the plate with a flourish. “Breakfast pasta.”
The long strings of spaghetti were covered in a white sauce, chopped ham and green vegetables mixed in. I began eating immediately, glancing up to make an exaggerated face of pleasure.
He grinned, all the laugh lines and crow’s feet going deeper with the expression.
“Excellent!” He turned back to the stove.
I waited until he was already working before asking, “So, how long have you worked for House Bartlett?”
“About a decade now. No, wait, eleven years,” he said. “I was hired on when Siobhan went to the night shift.”
For a second, I stared at my pasta, thinking about the timing, the way that Siobhan never wanted to meet my eyes. I had to keep it cool. I wasn’t interrogating him, and I couldn’t be too obvious.
I nodded. “Is there anything to drink?”
Louis went over to a cabinet and pulled out a glass and some melon-and-mint water from the fridge. It was sweet and refreshing, a perfect complement to the pasta. I lingered on the food before asking the questions that I couldn’tnotask.
“Siobhan used to work the day shift?” I asked. “Why did she switch? That seems like a demotion.”
“I don’t know. She said she was struggling with the pace of the day work. I get it.” He nodded at the four pots on the stove. “Day shift is hard, but nights are relentless. It’s hard being up all night and not seeing the sun.”
“Huh,” I said. “That was about the time that Cade’s parents were killed, right? Did it have anything to do with that?”
Louis looked around, glancing toward the hallway. I listened, but there were no distinctive heartbeats, no footsteps or breathing.
“We’re alone,” I told him.
“I wouldn’t know. I was hired on after.” He leaned his elbows on the counter. “Has Prince Bartlett told you anything about that night?”
“Some.” I hesitated, unsure what else to say.
One of the pots on the stove began to boil, and Louis turned around, speaking over his shoulder. “You’d have to ask Siobhan if she switched shifts because of the attack.”
“Help me out,” I said, spinning strands of pasta onto my fork. “I don’t want to say the wrong thing with her. Every time I talk to her, I feel like she’s flinching away from me.”
“I think she’s like that with all new wolves,” Louis said. “I wouldn’t take it personally.”
“Still, is there anyone I could ask? Anyone whowasaround then?” I took a bite of the pasta. Al dente. Perfect. The salty ham layered in with the rest of the flavors.
“I don’t think there is. From what I heard, after the attack, they cleaned house. The only servants left were Siobhan and Keith.” Louis turned down the heat on one of the burners, leaning on the counter again.
From his body posture, he was ready to tell me a secret. No, the opposite. He was waiting for me to divulge something. Information with him was quid pro quo; I wasn’t going to get anything from him unless I gave up something of equal value.
