Now that I think of it, the only server who’s spoken to me since my arrival was our original guy, and he’s nowhere in sight. When I first walked in, the hostess didn’t even greet me. I walked right back to the table without so much as a hello from anyone.
The skin on the back of my neck prickles.
Cloaking spell. Damn it.
If I’m right, then no mundane human can see us. I’m betting our so-called waiter is a society mage and doesn’t even work here.
“Thanks,” I say, desperately trying to figure out my next move. There’s no way Draegan and Rook are done at the brownstone yet, but how much longer can I drag this out? “But that’s not necessary. I don’t want to impose, and I’m still not ready to see Hunter yet.”
“Oh, don’t be silly.” She smiles again—the smile of a shark who’s just caught its prey. “Weinsist.”
“You know what Ireallylove?” I hop up from my seat, waving my arms like a lunatic at the entire restaurant. Not a single person even glances my way. “Hot waffles,” I say. “Does this place have hot waffles? Because hot waffles are so good, and hot, and… waffley…”
The Forsythes merely grin.
“Sit down, Westlyn,” Lennon says. “No need to make this more embarrassing on yourself.”
“Sir. There’s nothing embarrassing about hot waffles.”
But still, no sign of my gargoyles. No words of reassurance in my ear, no crashing through the windows.
Damn it, where are they? Aren’t they seeing this? Hearing it? Am I offline?
The Forsythes must’ve figured out I was wired and did something to scramble the tech.
“I should… Yeah. I should go.” I stumble back from the table, nervously thumbing toward the exit. “My friend is waiting for me. It’s my turn to do the dishes. Um… I’ll be in touch? Thanks again for the—”
A massive arm wraps around me from behind, crushing my chest like a steel band as a meaty hand clamps over my mouth. I struggle to kick free, but this guy’s got me in a vise grip. I can barely breathe.
“Take her back to the brownstone,” Celine tells the guy, her voice cold and businesslike. “We’ll be right behind you.”
Lennon’s already got his phone out. “Hunter? Yes, we’ve got her secured. Meet us there in fifteen minutes.”
Panic shoots through my limbs as the guy drags me back through the kitchen, the cooks and dishwashers paying us no mind. Kicking open the emergency exit, he hauls me out into the service alley behind the restaurant, where a running car awaits.
He releases me just long enough to open the car door and shove me inside, then climbs in after me, hauling me against his chest in that crushing hold once more.
“Drive,” he barks out to the guy in front.
To Randall, I realize. Our fucking absentee waiter.
Randall smashes the accelerator, but before we’re even halfway out of the alley, something crashes down onto the roof of the car, buckling it.
“What the fuck?” Randall jams the car into reverse and slams on the gas again, and something big rolls onto the hood.
Auggie. In full-out, utterly terrifying gargoyle form. He smashes his fist through the windshield and grabs Randall by the throat, hauling him out through the broken safety glass just as a someone wrenches the backdoor off its hinges.
Jude leans in and grins, a witchweed cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth, his eyes wild. “Are these dickheads bothering you, darling?”
Goddess,I’ve never been so happy to see his psychotic gargoyle face.
“Oh, you havenoidea,” I say. “Randall never even brought me my wine!”
Jude gives me an apologetic frown. “Sorry we’re late, scarecrow. You cut out on us partway through—we had to improvise.”
“They had a cloaking spell. They must’ve done something to disable the tech, too. Did you see them?”
“Just left out the front door—hopped in a cab. We’ve already let Drae know they’re inbound.”
