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“He usually takes the guest room, apparently,” Cat explains. “But I wasn’t open to sharing.”
“Miserable shrew!” Pierce calls through the pillow.
“That’s‘QueenShrew,’ to you,” Cat replies without looking at him.
“Is that your stripper name or something?” Pierce snaps. “I thought you had to be attractive for that.”
She shrugs. “I guess you’ll never know, since you’re broke as shit and wouldn’t be able to afford the cover.”
I raise an eyebrow, glancing back at the muscular torso of the moaning guy on the couch. “What is going on here?”
“She won the poker game,” Bennet explains, swallowing his mouthful of cereal. “The house rule is you can only bet what you came in with. Otherwise, it’s chaos. We end up with people running to the ATM and spending thousands, or betting boats and shit. But Pierce here, ran out of money and started betting favors. She’s his queen now.”
Ah. Well, I did warn Roman that Cat is more of a danger to his friends than they are to her. “Interesting. Is there anything to eat?”
“Help yourself to whatever.” Bennet waves a hand toward the fridge. “Want some coffee?”
“Sure. I can make it though, you don’t have to do anything.”
“So what’s the plan?” Cat asks, as if she wasn’t listening to us. “For today I mean.”
I bite my lip as I start the espresso machine and turn back to face her. “Well, I think it’s pretty unlikely that my parents will notice we’re gone until tonight at the earliest. The best case scenario,” I muse. “Is that my aunt says yes and we can somehow persuade everyone to meet up to do the ceremony tonight. Otherwise, maybe tomorrow?”
It’s Friday and we both have class today. Cat can and should go to hers, but I’m going to have to skip mine to go try and track down Aunt Angelica in Salem with Roman.
“Do you know who is going to stand in from every house?” Bennet asks.
“All except the Danes, I think is what Roman said, but I’m sure we’ll figure something out.”
Bennet leans forward toward me, swinging his legs. “Where is Roman, anyway?”
“Um…reading?”
“Seriously?” Cat looks incredulous.
I nod. “Seriously.”
“Huh. Sounds perfect for you.”
My stomach lurches. I’d been thinking the same thing, but I have no idea how to tell him that and risk the very real possibility that he’ll completely shut me down.
* * *
There are a dozen tarot shops in Salem, all boasting readings from “real witches,” so it takes us nearly forty minutes to find the shop where my Aunt Angelica works. It doesn’t help that she’s using a fake name, and I haven’t seen her since my grandfather’s funeral ten years ago. Although there have been quite a few other deaths in the family since, that was the last funeral Angelica turned up to. I can’t exactly blame her.
“I’ve always hated this street,” Roman grumbles as we walk down the main tourist street in the city.
I turn to him in shock. “Seriously?”
“The whole thing looks like a godsdamn movie set.”
“That’s because it’s in so many movies.”
“Well,stop,” he whines. “Why cobblestones? If they were going to use honest to gods fucking cobblestones, they should have just made it pedestrian only, but instead it’s just uncomfortable as shit to drive on with weird-ass tiny parking spaces. And if they’re going to lean in on the history, at least be clear about the fact that the real historical site is under the Walgreens parking lot two towns over.”
I raise an eyebrow. “I like it. It’s cute, and there’s really good coffee.”
He grumbles. “Well, you didn’t have to park.”
