Page 98 of Hoofin’ It

“What do you need?”

“Tell Larry. He’s running his meter while he waits for us.”

“Our Papa did something to annoy you, didn’t he?”

“When doesn’t he?”

“Good point. Your table will be ready for you when you arrive.”

I hung up, chuckled, and headed for the cash registers so I could make my credit card weep from the amount I’d be spending on Marian’s new dress. We lost ten minutes picking the perfect jacket, but it hid Marian’s gun and had space for her wallet, keys, and phone, making it a win across the board.

The shoes cost more than the dress, and the jacket cost more than the shoes and the dress combined, which confirmed I understood nothing about women’s clothing. I slipped the receipt into my wallet before Marian could get her hands on it, grinned, and grabbed the bag filled with her other clothes.

“Michietti’s is one of the better restaurants in Lower Chicago. It usually serves nocturnals, but it caters to humans, too. It’s also one of the few places that doesn’t discriminate against lycanthropes, so it’s a popular spot for them.”

Marian waited until we left the store to say, “And it’s run by Ernesto.”

“One of his daughters.”

“Biologic or vampiric?”

“Both.”

“I thought vampires couldn’t have children.”

“I believe Ernesto and several of his children were all turned at the same time. Ernesto’s sire turned him, and then Ernesto turned his children during his first feeding. It’s a sore point, so don’t mention it around them. I don’t know why, but it makes Ernesto unhappy, which in turn makes his children unhappy, and when all of them are unhappy, it causes trouble.”

“Noted. And this restaurant? Is it any good?”

“Considering Pierina has been cooking for several thousand years, yeah, it’s good. It’ll be different, though.”

“Why?”

“Let’s just say the Etruscans had a slightly different opinion about what counts as food. They tend to use everything, and Pierina is no exception. I’ve done some of my more adventurous dining at Michietti’s, but she does feed those with more modern interests, too. If in doubt, let me order for you.”

“I’m not a squeamish eater.”

“If you get a bleeding heart on your plate, it’s not my fault.”

Michietti’s embraced the glory days of the Roman Empire, breaking free from Lower Chicago’s doom and gloom to offer diners a step through time and a glimpse of the luxury enjoyed long ago. Most people believed the decor, from the ancient busts on podiums lining the walls to the gold leafing patterning the crowning near the domed ceiling, were reproductions, but I knew better. The rare times I caught the older staff staring, the weight of long memories dampened their expressions, especially when their attention turned to the frescos on the ceilings.

The entry featured a painting depicting the Garden of Eden and the dawn of humanity. Every room in the restaurant presented a different fresco on its ceiling, each one capturing a glimpse of history—or a variant of it.

Marian inhaled, her gaze locked overhead while Ernesto’s daughter swept across the room, stood on her toes, and kissed my cheeks. Pierina brushed her fingers against my scar but said nothing of the crippling injury. “It’s been too long since you’ve visited, and looking so handsome for your lady. Introduce us this instant, Gibby.”

“Pierina, this is Marian. She’s in the FBI.”

Marian smiled and held out her hand. “Pleased to meet you.”

“Finally found yourself a badge, did you? If she leaves you heartbroken, come to me. I’ll cheer you up.”

I bet Pierina would, and she’d bring a succubus friend with her. “I’m really hoping that won’t be necessary.”

Pierina’s eyes widened. “That serious?”

“He’s hinting very hard he’d like me in a white dress.” Marian chuckled. “I’ve already bitten him.”

Clapping her hands together, Pierina spun and snapped her fingers at one of her vampire brothers. “This calls for a bottle of our best, and charge it to Papa. It’s a miracle.”