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“Val Tuckerton is coming over for dinner tomorrow night, and I’d like to impress her,” he continued.
Nana Pratt scowled. “I don’t like that girl. Tell him she’s still involved with Chuck Mahoney. I saw them through the gate. They were parked up the hill smooching in his truck, not that I was spying.”
I inhaled, not really wanting to put myself in the middle of this conversation. “Your grandmother says Val is still involved with Chuck Mahoney, and she thinks you deserve better.”
Nana nodded firmly. “Darn right I do.”
Steven tapped away on the keyboard, seemingly unconcerned. “Tell Nana she’s mistaken. Val said she and Chuck are just friends.”
Nana Pratt folded her arms in a huff. “Last I checked, friends don’t stick their tongues down each other’s throats.”
“Nana says she’s lying.”
Steven’s expression crumpled. “Well, that’s too bad. I thought we were going to make it work this time.” He turned back to the computer, shielding his face from me.
I gave Nana Pratt a look of condemnation. She shrugged. “What? He has to know the truth about that hussy.”
At least her name wasn’t Anya. It would be too disturbing to think about Steven sharing the same taste as Otto Visconti. Then again, Steven wasn’t a vampire; his square teeth wouldn’t appeal to her.
I returned to the living room to continue my own project. This time Nana Pratt left me in peace. After an hour, Steven declared victory.
“I’ve held up my end of the bargain. It’s working for now, but it’s slow. I don’t know how long it’ll last either. The Internet connection here is garbage, by the way. If I were you, I’d think about getting a new computer before this one kicks the bucket.”
“Thank you.”
“Fingers crossed for good news about Ashley soon.” His eyes glimmered with hope.
“I’m doing what I can.”
He hefted the strap of his bag over his shoulder and exited the house.
“He’d better not bake my lemon tart for that tart,” Nana Pratt fumed.
“You have to let him make his own mistakes.”
“Like Ashley?” she countered.
I fell silent. I didn’t have children, but I’d been one, and a difficult one at that. Foster homes didn’t pass around easy kids; those they kept.
“There’s a redhead snooping around the moat,” Ray informed me. “She checked out Steven on his way out too.”
“Ooh, is she pretty?” Nana Pratt asked.
I went to the front door to greet Kelsey Bridger. “I guess my ward is ready.”
The witch smiled brightly. “It is, but I’ll need some of your blood to finalize it.”
“That seems unhygienic,” Nana Pratt said.
“Do we need to use a special dagger?” I asked.
Kelsey snorted. “No, it isn’t a ritual. A pin prick will do.” She thrust a glass jar toward me. “Just add it here, and it’s done.”
The contents of the jar reeked. I didn’t dare ask what was in it.
Nana Pratt scrunched her nose. “That looks nasty. You don’t have to drink that, do you?”
“It’s a ward,” Ray said. “It sounds like she’ll need to pour it along the property line.”
