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“This might be the best thing I’ve ever put in my mouth…”I think he’d said about the breakfast crepes I made.
Even now, the b-positive strawberry preserve I’d generously filled each dessert with lingers on my tongue. Though I hadn’t tasted the batch, the rich and earthy scent hit me as soon as I’d cracked the seal. Who knew there were so many vampiric substitutes? And ones that smelled pleasing to the average human?
“You guys aren’t in a relationship.”
My voice is harsh, but I think I need the reminder. I’m dangerously close to growing comfortable with this arrangement. Maybe not all of it, but at least parts, and most of those parts have to do with Emile. I could get used to cooking anything for a man like that, especially when the smell is so… not there.
I make a mental note to ask someone, maybe even Emile, if other enterprising witches have perhaps capitalized on a spell or two that cancels out the scent of blood.
He even likes your humor, though,I think. It’s a poor excuse to throw caution to the wind and possibly blow my cover by getting too close. What if something slipped up during conversation? Something that happened to Shauna and not Clarissa?
A small part of me wonders if Marcel would be up for giving me more information about his friend in exchange for a crepe or two of his own. But how to broach the subject without looking certifiable? Or at the very least desperate.
Suddenly, a knock on my door draws me out of my reverie. My heart practically skips a beat as I blush, not at the sound but at the idea that it might be Emile.
“Just a minute!” I holler, running the sticky jar of preserve under the sink in an effort to clean the seal. I’m careful not to lick my fingers, not knowing how the taste will affect me.
Another collection of loud knocks hits my ears, and I freeze, letting the warm water run down my wrist. I know right away it can’t be Emile. His knock sounds different, more inviting and less stern.
“Okay! Okay!” I say the third time there’s a powerful rapping. “Don’t break the door down, it’s not even mine…” I mutter as I pad to the front door, suddenly wondering if that’s just what I need to get more time with Emile. I could break something else and find a new project.
“To what do I owe…” There’s no one on the other side when I finally swing the heavy door open. “Huh…”
I realize I’m holding my breath and need to make a decision. Am I slamming the door and calling Agent Todd? Or do I chalk this experience up to some kids playing their own version of ding-dong ditch?
I’m still gripping the doorknob and furiously staring out when Todd pops out from the side of the house.
“Gotcha!” he barks, then hits me with a few rounds of finger guns. “That was a test, and you failed.”
Rather than admonish the agent for punking me, which would only get me a long-winded explanation regarding the importance of ‘being on one’s toes,’ I heave a heavy sigh and head back to the kitchen. If Agent Todd wants to follow me through the door, he knows how to close it and lock up.
I’m gritting my teeth and trying not to throw something as Todd enters the kitchen. “Took you long enough to answer the door.”
I spin around and shoot him what I hope is a stern glare. Using my busted hand for effect, I wave it wildly in his direction. “You don’t think I’ve been through enough now?”
“I—”
“I’m still speaking!” My tone shocks even me. Maybe I’m a little more angry about the prank he just pulled than I thought. “You’re a walking contradiction, you know that?”
He crosses his thick arms and stares down at me. I’m just about ready to put my finger on his chest, maybe even two at the same time.
“Am I supposed to hide out or blend in? Do you want me to answer the door or pretend I don’t exist? Which is it?”
Agent Todd’s smirk throws me off, but not as much as his collection of slow claps. Am I getting a standing ovation right now?
“You did it, kid.” His voice is equal parts pride and joy. “You got yourself a nice, shiny spine. That’s gonna help you, you know.”
“It doesn’t feel good,” I snap. “I’m doing everything you say and—”
“Really? You sure about that?” Agent Todd points above himself to the roof, and I feel the blood in my face drain as he gives me a knowing look. “We would have moved you. Fixing a roof is not your responsibility. You should have called me.”
“I didn’t want to worry you.”
“Sure, ma’am. It’s got nothing to do with how smoking hot the neighbor is. You don’t think I noticed that smoke show, too? I may be straight, but I’m not blind. I know what a whole snack looks like, and he’s that way.” Marshall Todd now points in the direction of Emile’s house, which leaves me with no other choice but to roll my eyes.
“I’m allowed to—”
“Just ask yourself if exposing your cover is worth it, that’s all. It’s easy to pretend to be someone from afar. Up close, not so much.”
