Font Size:  

When I saw that it was from Beatrice, I had my doubts that anything good would come of it.

“Butterdrop?” Eli asked.

“Draugrdelivery.”

We closed the door and exchanged a look. I held up an envelope. That was easier to make sense of: cash. Beatrice paid me well for my services. I set it aside. I knew it was more than I’d charge, but I wasn’t too proud to accept it. No one else could do the things I did. Sometimes people who realized that paid extra—which meant that when they needed me again, I’d make time for them.

I plopped the silver foil-wrapped box on the counter and untied the bold blue ribbons. “Maybe it’s a toaster or pressure cooker? Rare liquor?”

Eli gave me a look. “And maybe you’ll take up macramé.”

“It could happen. I have hidden depths.” I loosened the lid, not quite ready to face the contents. Nothing involving Beatrice was ever simple.

“You’re stalling.” Eli pointed at the box on the wooden table beside us. It looked festive, and whatever it was, I doubted that it would explode or injure us.

Tentatively, I opened the box. To exactly no one’s surprise, there was no pressure cooker, salad bowls, or even macramé supplies.

There, surrounded by ice packs, was the head of Weasel Nuts, the man who’d shot at me at the Cormier job. On top of his severed head, jabbed into the meat of his forehead, was Harold’s ornate broach.

“There’s a letter.” Eli unfolded the paper that had been in the envelope and read: “‘Hunters ought to be rewarded. Harold employed miscreants to discover your abilities. This human expired before sharing further knowledge.’”

“Is it me or are there a lot more brushes with death lately?”

“It is far more frequent than I’d like.” Eli tucked the cash and letter in a pocket.

We’d long ago realized that I’d misplaced far too many things for me to be the one handling deposits. Eli, along with being my partner in the field, had begun to handle my accounting. I trusted him more than myself on this.

“Do you know what todowith that?” I nodded at the garish jewels jabbed in Weasel Nuts’ forehead.

“Sell or store it.” Eli shrugged. “Antique, obviously.”

I wasn’t squeamish often, but unpinning the broach from the dead man’s head was not terribly appealing. I put the lid back on it for now.

“I have a woman who handles gems. I brought a cache with me when I moved here,” Eli said in that uniquely Eli way that was somehow downplaying his connections and wealth. “They covered the bills of a life here—until I established the tavern—and then I sell one now and again.”

He looked at me and stressed, “Bonbon, I would suspect the ruby alone will be between six and thirty thousand, simply due to size and clarity.”

I swallowed. Who in their right mind wore jewels like that? And who pinned them to the head of dead men?

Obviously, Beatrice was not wanting for funds, but her proclamation of familial ties was said so carelessly. I was starting to think my dear, dead, many-times-great-gran truly liked me. It was, in truth, a bit disconcerting.

I shuddered. “Do whatever you think best with it.”

“Shall I dispose of . . . the contents as well?”

“I have no use for the head of Weasel Nuts, and re-gifting that would probably lead to awkward questions.” I shoved the box slightly toward him.

“You never bore me, my dear plum pudding. For someone with eternity ahead, that is a treasure.”

I thought morethan a little about Eternity as I prepared for the trip toElphame.Unlike my visits to Beatrice or my mother, this trip was a multi-day affair. Oddly, perhaps, time between the worlds was uneven. My first stay there had been a month, but in New Orleans a mere three hours passed.

Going there did not mean I missed anything at home. My city was not left unpatrolled, and it wasn’t as if the police did nothing. New Orleans had reconfigured their entire force. They protected the city, watched for thedraugrand aided the citizens.

Still I was, for reasons that I was not pleased to admit, anxious.

Witches from the Outs were not a good fit for royal courts. I mean, sure I coped with thedraugrqueen’s soiree but that was because I figured I’d get to threaten or stab someone. Eli repeatedly stressed that neither of those were advisable at the Yule celebration with his uncle, the king of the fae.

Tonight, though, Eli and I were having a “date-night.” A few hours locked away in my home, surrounded by fight dummies and weapons. It wasn’t as romantic as his place, but it was my home. It was important to both of us that we spend time here, too.

Source: www.allfreenovel.com
Articles you may like