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“Oh, Cicely, you and your chocolate shavings. Every time you order hot cocoa or mocha, you ask for them. Very well. You girls hungry? Do you need menus?” She automatically wrote allergic to fish on the order pad—as she did every time I came in. I gave her a grateful smile, and she shrugged.
“I think I know what I want—what about you, Rhia?”
Rhiannon nodded.
“We’re ready to order. I want your turkey plate—turkey, dressing as long as it’s not oyster based, cranberries, mashed potatoes, and green beans.”
“You want pumpkin pie for dessert or Yule log?”
I grinned, suddenly feeling happy. When times were dark, you had to take happiness where you found it, and right now it was in the form of a whipped-cream-stuffed chocolate cake with mint icing. “Yule log, please.”
She chuckled as she wrote it down. “Thought so. Rhiannon? What can I get for you?”
My cousin pondered the question. “Chicken soup, toasted cheese sandwich, pickle on the side, and for dessert, I want some of the Yule log, too.”
“Check. I’ll get this right in, girls. Rhiannon, do you want your soup now or with your sandwich?”
“With my sandwich, please.”
As Anadey headed for the back to put in our order and fix our drinks, I leaned against the back of the booth, watching the fall of snow outside the window. The past couple of weeks, it had seemed like New Forest was cut off from the world, silent in its shrouded wonder, alone in the universe. But all over the world, Myst’s people were beginning their war, making inroads, looking for prey. How many of the Vampiric Fae existed? How many were out there?
“What are you thinking about?” Rhiannon asked. “You look so pensive.”
“Myst and her people . . . how many do you think there are? How many small towns are feeling their encroachment, uncertain of what to do? How many people have they killed in their feeding?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know. I don’t know if I want to know. In some ways, I wish we were the only place they were attacking—then we could run away. But we can’t ever really run away, can we?”
“If I did, the vampires would come after me. Or Myst.” I glanced up as Anadey brought our drinks. “We have to destroy her, you know—”
A crash from the counter interrupted me. We all turned just in time to see one of the Lupa Clan members throw his plate toward the kitchen. He had a bottle of beer in hand and it looked like there were two empties on the counter.
“Fucking slut! Can’t you cook something worth eating?” His words were slurred, but that didn’t stop him from jumping up and heading around the counter toward the door to where Peyton was cooking. She’d stopped and was holding a cleaver in hand.
Anadey rushed after him. “Tim Wylde—you stop right there before I summon Ranger.”
He ignored her. Lucky, one of the older assistants who had seen more than his share of days but still looked rugged enough to rumble, blocked the door into the kitchen.
“You just get your ass back over to the other side of the counter, Lupa.” Lucky was one of the yummanii and he didn’t care whether a person was Were, magic-born, or vampire as long as he didn’t have to scrap with them. But let them cross the line and the older man was leathery tough.
“Get out of my way, human. You’re no match for me.” Tim smashed his bottle on the counter, holding up the broken edge.
Lucky eyed him with a speculative look. “I would advise against it, boy.”
“Don’t you boy me, human. You’re weak and sniveling, almost as bad as the magic-born.” Tim lunged for him with the bottle.
Dodging the attack, Lucky pulled out a short rod from beneath the counter. It sparkled. Silver. Lycanthropes hated silver as much as vampires. He swung it, connecting with Tim’s drunken face, and the Were screamed and went down on the floor, shifting even as he did so. The resulting wolf was huge, and as he came up, a murderous look filled his eyes.
I jumped forward and closed my eyes. Ulean, bring the wind—please.
Ulean slammed open the door with a strong gust of wind, and the snow drifted in as the currents of air sliced between the man and the wolf, knocking both off their feet. As man and wolf struggled for footing, I glanced over at Tim’s buddies, both of whom were starting to turn. If we didn’t stop this now, Anadey’s Diner would be the home of a bloodbath.
Just then, a burly man strode through the open door. He was Were—you could smell it coming off him, strong with glittering eyes, topaz ringed with black. The men at the counter immediately turned to him, and Tim rolled over on his back, showing his belly.
“Tim, Alder, Snell . . . get the hell back to the compound. Now.” For a moment, the man looked like he was about ready to take out everyone, and then he pulled up short and took out his wallet. His eyes never leaving Anadey’s, he fished out five twenties and tossed them on the counter. “For any damage my boys did, ma’am. I told them not to come here, but they insist you make the best burgers in town. I’ll suggest takeout from now on.” The words seemed to stick in his throat and his hands were shaking, but he finally turned away and swept out the door behind the three Lupas.
Anadey stared at the money on the counter, then finally flipped through the bills and slid them into the cash register. Lucky was already on his feet, looking ready to kill. He glanced around the diner to see if there were any other potential troublemakers, then put away the silver rod.
I stared at the departing figures making their way through the storm. “Who the hell was that?”
