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“She’s not here right now.” And she stopped there. “If you leave a name, or your card, I can make sure she gets back to you.”
“Inside.” The younger shifted his jacket aside and revealed a handgun holstered to his side. “Now.”
Eddie had seen prop guns aplenty, but this might be the first time she was actually looking at a real gun, as in one that could make her dead or very, very sore. Rock meet hard place. Putting aside, for a very brief instance, these two were giving her a squicky feeling, inside that theatre she had a handful of other problems—see the list of what made her so brave in the parking lot.
Not-gun guy stepped forward. “Edme, we know.” He leveled her with a heavy look. “We know what this theatre masks. We are guardians.”
“What now?” Shit, shit, shit, shit, double shit. Maybe if she pretended she didn’t know what that meant, they would go away. And how had that been working for her lately? Refer again to the list of what made her brave, currently infesting her theatre. How was it taking so long for Dee to get back from Alaska?
The bogeyman was now at the door, and Eddie was out of room to tap dance.
“Edme.” He shook his head at her. “You live here with Rosabella and Deandra. You were born here and have been raised here. While I commend your diplomacy, I also have to ask you to stop trying to bullshit us.” He nodded to the stage door. “I suggest we take this inside.”
“Inside?” The place Dee had impressed on her they absolutely did not want the guardians to be.
He stared her down. “Inside.” Turning to the younger man, he motioned Eddie’s grocery bags. “Make yourself useful, Oliver.”
Oliver’s faced tightened as if he’d rather be shooting people than being useful, but he snatched her bags from her hands and marched to the door.
Staring at him standing there with her toilet paper and peanut butter, Eddie weighed her options. Dee had told her never to contact the guardians, but they’d pretty much rendered that moot by arriving here anyway. Hand to her heart, she’d never called them, yet here they were. The other part of that warning had been that she never tell them she was the one guarding the hell gate now while Dee lived out her fantasy of younger men and cruises. They still didn’t know that part.
Eddie had grown up keeping the secret of the hell gate, and as they were guardians, there was no point in trying to keep it secret from these two. They already knew it was here and what it did. In fact, they probably knew more about it than she did.
A faint glimmer of hope shone through her clouds. These were the guys with the answers. They were human right? Just like her—maybe. They were also the guys who could possibly clear her little problems out for her.
Palming her keys, Eddie approached the stage door and opened it.
They followed close on her heels.
“Edsie!” Lillian fluttered down the corridor toward her. “Edsie, I have a huge problem.” She stopped when she caught sight of the two men with her. “Oh, hello.” She held out one elegant, pale hand. “Lillian Hampstead.” She giggled. “Aka Lady Macbeth.”
“Macbeth?” Oliver growled. “You’re doing Macbeth?”
“We are.” Lillian flashed her gleaming white smile and fluttered her lashes. “Such a masterful piece of theatre, and we shall do our best to do it justice.”
Oliver glowered at her. “Deandra knew to never—”
“I must say when Bianca first suggested it, we had our doubts.” Lillian laid her hand against the cleavage threatening to make a break for it over the bodice of her fire-engine red top.
“Chris Fellows.” The older guardian shook Lillian’s outstretched hand. “And you look familiar to me.”
“Oh, well.” Lillian fluttered and giggled. “I did start out as a professional actress before I found my higher calling of wife and mother.” She wrinkled her nose at him. “Of course, that was years ago.”
“It can’t have been that many years.” Chris turned on the charm with a full wattage matinee-idol smile.
“Stop.” Lillian playfully batted his arm. She eyed the two men with interest. “Are you friends of our Edsie’s?”
“Long time acquaintances.” Chris maneuvered himself between Eddie and Lillian. “And if you’ll excuse us, we need to catch up.”
Before Eddie could register how he’d done it, she was marching down the stairs to the basement, with Oliver on her heels.
When they reached the basement, both men dug out a phone and opened an app Eddie shouldn’t have had access to.
Oliver nodded at Chris. “The hell gate has been active recently.”
“Are we surprised, given the play being performed?” Chris turned to Eddie. “Have either you, your grandmother, or your mother had a recent encounter with a witch?”
“A witch?” Eddie was ashamed of the squeak that came out of her mouth. “You mean, other than the witches in Ma—the Scottish play?”
