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“No,” Lennox says quickly. “Let’s do our own research first.”
Well that’s not reassuring.
It’s not my fault the witch’s magic leeched onto me somehow, and this curiosity about her can definitely fuck off.
4
“How did you sleep?” Sloane shovels in a mouthful of scrambled eggs as we sit in the little café that’s attached to the inn.
Most of the tables in Tea Alchemy this morning are full. Glass sliding doors are open to the foyer that divides this place from Akonyte Kitchen.
We didn’t notice this side of the building when we checked in. Both the bar and café share the same dark wood flooring and lantern lights, but something about this place has a touch more whimsy.
When we finally made it downstairs, just after nine this morning, our stomachs were grumbling, and Sloane is not someone to be kept waiting when it comes to food.
The grumpy bartender passed us, arms loaded with delicious-smelling food, and that was enough for Sloane to trail behind him and find the first vacant table.
“Fine,” I lie. I didn’t sleep at all.
After we got back to our rooms, we called Celeste and explained what happened with the demons. Specifically the golden magic that manifested around me and the demon with dark hair and amber eyes. It looked exactly like what I had seen in my premonition. It had to mean something. Celeste is going to reach out to a trusted she-wolf to find out what she could. Witches don’t have bonds like wolves and vampires, at least to my knowledge. We’re hoping the wolves can share how bonds work in their packs.
An older lady, wearing a collection of beaded necklaces and a woven shawl, flits between the tables, pouring complimentary tea.
“I was thinking of going back to the library today. There might be more I needed to see from my dream that I missed because of the attack.”
“Sounds good.” Sloane nods, barely finishing her mouthful of food before reaching for her coffee. “Did—” She’s cut off when Mr Grumpy stops at our table with both hands full.
“Pancakes?” he grumbles.
“Those are for me.” I raise my hand, not that it matters. He won’t stop looking at Sloane.
She arches an eyebrow at him as he sets the plate in front of me, still not taking his eyes off her.
He takes Sloane’s empty plate and sets a new plate in front of her. Three giant, fluffy scones, dusted in sugar and oozing with purple jam, sit in the center. Blackberries and lavender flowers decorate the side of the plate. “These are complimentary for any guests who book a two-night stay.”
Sloane looks down at the plate, her face devoid of any emotion, then shrugs, popping a berry into her mouth. “Cool, thanks.”
“I’m Sera, by the way. This is my sister, Sloane.” The guy doesn’t give me his attention, just nods as he watches my sister pick up a scone.
“Rowan,” he grunts.
“Nice to meet you.” I smile, but I’m interrupted by a moan coming from Sloane that has me wanting to hide under the table. Her eyes roll to the back of her head.
“This is so good,” she mumbles, taking another bite of the scone. Rowan nods as if he was waiting for her to try it, making sure it was to her satisfaction before taking his leave, his hand brushing her shoulder as he turns.
Sloane jolts, looking down at the spot curiously before shaking it off.
“Dude has no concept of personal space, but damn he can cook.” She licks her fingers clean before going in for a second one.
“We’ll stop by the library first. It’s closer than the record store.” I pour syrup over my pancakes, then cut right through the stack of three, before scooping up a dollop of whipped cream from the little dish on my plate and taking a bite.
Holy shit. The guy really can cook.
“Do people even listen to vinyls anymore?”
“I dunno. I think old people do,” I say over another mouthful, then reach for my tea to finish it.
“Any more tea for you, dears?” The older woman I saw earlier stands beside our table, a white china teapot held between her slender hands. Stacks of silver and crystal rings decorate every finger.
