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“Are you sure? I could show you the refrigerated items.”
My radar pinged. “You don’t happen to have any revenants, do you?”
His eyes glinted with curiosity. “I thought those were extinct. Why do you ask?”
“That’s what I thought. Thanks for confirming.” I wasn’t about to throw Claude under the bus; he was in enough pieces as it was.
Dr. Edmonds reached into the pocket of his lab coat. “Before you leave, a parting gift.” He removed a pen with the logo of a rising sun. “We ordered a bit of merch to give to our potential investors.”
I clicked the pen. “Money well spent, I’m sure.”
I left the lab, feeling more strongly than ever that I had to put an end to Magnarella’s grand plans once and for all.
CHAPTER 12
The Bridgers were one of the oldest families in Fairhaven. Phaedra still lived on their property, the only surviving Bridger witch on one of the only surviving farms in town. The rest of the properties had been sold off and divided years ago. Given the witches’ long history in Fairhaven, I thought Phaedra might be able to help me with my current predicaments.
There was no answer at the door. I rounded the corner of the house to find Phaedra feeding the chickens. The birds squawked and clucked as they jockeyed for position.
I caught Phaedra’s eye, and she smiled in greeting. “Hungry?” she joked, holding out a handful of corn.
The chickens nearly lost their minds when their food source turned away from them. Their heads bobbed at a rapid clip as they scurried to stand between us. One hen started to peck the others.
“There’s no way birds are descended from dinosaurs,” I said.
Phaedra laughed. “Then you’ve never seen a cassowary.”
“Imagine being a T-Rex and seeing your descendants. You’d be so embarrassed.”
“I imagine that’s how a lot of our ancestors feel,” Phaedra said.
The chickens scattered as she tossed more food on the ground.
“On that note, I have a question for you.”
The witch closed the bag of chicken feed. “If we’re going to talk about my family, let’s go inside.”
I glanced around the farmyard. “You’re worried someone might overhear us outside?”
“No, I’m worried I’ll need a drink, and the liquor cabinet is inside.”
Fair enough. If my family’s legacy involved murder and mayhem, I’d probably feel the same.
The side door squeaked as she opened it, and we entered directly into the kitchen.
Phaedra wasted no time raiding the liquor cabinet. “On a scale of hot toddy to tequila shots, how serious is this conversation going to be?”
“Depends on your answers.”
Her face drained of color. “Tequila it is then.” She pulled a bottle from the lower shelf. “Two glasses or one?”
“No shots for me, thanks.”
She contemplated the bottle. “What if I add cinnamon-ginger tea to it? Reposado tequila enhances the flavor. My mother used to call it her winter brew.”
“Sounds intriguing. Anything I can do to help?”
“No. You sit and ask your questions. This will give me something else to focus on.”
