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She snorted softly. “And you bitch about my spirit guides being obtuse.”
I grinned. “Well they are.”
“Twenty-four hours,” she said mildly. “That’s how long you managed without taking a swipe at them.”
“If I went any longer they’d keel over in shock.”
She paused, obviously listening to the incoming comments from the other side. “They said while that might well be the case, they are more than prepared to risk such an event.”
I snorted. “It’s good to see they remain in such fine form.”
“They like this place. They’re hoping we don’t have to move.”
“They could put in a good word to the fates for us. You know, do a little wrangling and divert any possibility of us having to leave happening.”
Belle gave me the look—the one that said, “don’t be daft.” “That sort of stuff happens in kids’ books, not real life.”
“It still can’t hurt putting it out there. Maybe someone will actually listen.” I finished my breakfast then picked up my coffee and nursed the mug between my hands. “The dancing teapots obviously have something to do with the witch who gave our skinned shifter the charm, given I saw the same sort of thing when I was doing the reading on that bloody thread.”
“Have you googled black teapots? It might actually be the name of the shop.”
“Of course I haven’t—and when has anything been that simple?”
She smiled, grabbed both plates, and then rose. “Never, but that doesn’t mean things can’t change.”
She disappeared into the kitchen to dump the plates then grabbed her phone and came back to the table. After a few minutes, she wrinkled her nose and said, “Well, you were right. It’s not that simple.”
“Try the dancing teapot instead.”
She typed that in and then shook her head. “It’s got to be some sort of clue, though, however cryptic. Your dreams might generally be ambiguous, but they usually do hold some grains of truth.”
Usually being the telling word there. I drank more coffee. “Ashworth might have more luck finding her. I did get a vague impression of the witch from the thread we found on the first victim—enough to give him a general description, anyway.”
“It’s certainly worth a shot.” She downed her coffee and then rose. “I’ll grab first shower.”
I followed her upstairs and googled a bit more for any witch shops that related in any vague way to teapots. Again, there was nothing.
Once I’d showered, I headed downstairs to help Belle do the day’s prep. We opened at nine and were super busy all day—a good thing given it kept me thinking about Aiden and what he might do over the next couple of days. Or, rather, what I wouldn’t be doing.
We closed at three, gave our staff a bottle of champagne as a thank you, and let them leave early. It was close to six by the time Belle and I had finished clearing and cleaning. Belle grabbed a couple of glasses and another bottle of champagne while I washed the strawberries then followed her across the room to a table.
She popped the cork and filled the glasses. I dropped a couple of strawberries in each, and then picked one up. “Merry Christmas, my friend. May the goddess continue to bless our lives—”
“With health and happiness.” She touched her glass against mine. “So, are we soloing tonight or going out together? Because I discovered Émigré is open all night despite the fact it’s Christmas Eve.”
Émigré was an extremely popular, alien-themed nightclub that had recently opened within the reservation, and one that was owned and run Maelle Defour—a very old, very powerful vampire. While the council was well aware of her presence, Aiden and his rangers were not. Maelle was currently in our debt thanks to the fact that we’d tracked down the people responsible for murdering several of her “feeders”—the men and women who supplied her with both blood and sex in return for a very luxurious lifestyle.
Those killers were now dead. While Maelle had kept her promise to the council not to cause any harm within the reservation, both Molly Brown and her brother had disappeared while being transported down to Melbourne for trial.
I had no idea how Maelle had arranged that; I only knew Molly’s and Jack’s deaths would have been agony itself. It was never a good idea to double-cross a vampire, but Maelle Defour wasn’t any old vampire. In addition to her age and power, she was also one hell of a scary bitch who walked the edge between remaining human and becoming something else.
None of which would stop us from going to her establishment, if only because there really wasn’t anything else like it in Castle Rock. Or, in fact, the entire reservation.
I took a drink and then said, “I’m guessing your vote lies with Émigré?”
“Indeed. I’m feeling the need to rub shoulders with a hot man or two.”
“Sounds like a plan to me.”
