“Fine,” she spat. “But tell them not to expect political favors.”
“I think they’ll be happy if your men don’t shoot them with their own gifts,” I said wryly, skirting close to snide and sarcastic. “I’ll get back to you as soon as I know what they’ll do. Can I go now?” I asked Grizzard, not that he had forced me to stay, but I had covered my tracks, found out what the cops were up to, and now had other places to be.
“Yeah. Sure.” I went into the hallway and Grizzard called out to me. I paused in the doorway and swiveled to face him.
“Yellowrock, anything you can do for us will be appreciated.” The words sounded like they were pulled out of him with red-hot pincers. I waggled my fingers to show I’d heard, and took off down the hall, texting requests to Bruiser for phone calls and to the twins for meetings. Sometimes it was easier to go through the human (or mostly so) blood-servants to get to vamps, especially when asking for big-ticket items that didn’t relate perfectly to the mission at hand.
Thanks to the miracle of modern tech, I had my day planned in minutes and was left with three hours to kill, which meant I could take a nap or a break. I opted for the one with food. Seven Sassy Sisters’ Herb Shop and Café had a booming business, locally and Internet, selling herbal mixtures, teas in bulk and by the ounce. The café served brewed teas, specialty coffees, breakfast and lunch daily, and brunch and dinner on weekends. Homemade soup and breads were available, both to go and to eat in. The menu leaned heavily toward vegetarian fare, whipped up by the eldest sister, water witch, professor, and three-star chef, Evangelina Everhart, a drill sergeant of a woman who terrified me on some ancient, primal level.
In New Orleans, Evangelina had been thrust upon me by Molly over the summer, as my houseguest, during the talks between witches and vamps about reparations for the deaths of witch children and to open communication lines between species. The visit hadn’t ended well, and Evil Evie and I still had some things to discuss, a conversation I figured would be unpleasant. She had put what looked like a love spell on George Dumas, Leo’s prime blood-servant, in what I assumed had been intended to provide an edge in a game of political maneuvering between vamps and witches, a game where the vamps had all the advantages. I got in the way, and it spilled over on to me, which caused Bruiser and me to end up half-naked in the shower together. I didn’t appreciate being spelled, even if it was by accident. And love spells are illegal by witch-law. No matter how I looked at it, Evangelina had been a bad guest. If she hadn’t been Mol’s sister, I’d have sent her packing with a few bruises to show for her time.
There were two reasons I hadn’t dealt with the problem since then: deference to Molly, and the knowledge that Evil Evie was the leader of the sisters’ coven. Covens were like team sports, and the leader demanded obedience. She also had the right to draw on the power of the coven’s members for group workings. I didn’t know enough about witches to stick my big nose in. Yet. I wanted to handle it with tact, which wasn’t my strong suit, so I was thinking it through. For weeks now. Ignoring any possibility that fear of Evangelina or fear that Molly would get ticked was keeping me away. No. Not me.
I stood in the doorway to the café when I arrived, sniffing out the place. The café was decorated in mountain country chic, with scuffed hardwood floors, bundles of herbs hanging against the back brick wall, a dozen tables and several tall-backed booths, seats upholstered with burgundy faux-leather and the tables covered with burgundy and navy blue check cloths. Today there were ten patrons at various stages of breakfast, not as many as usual. The kitchen was visible through a serving window, proving that Evangelina wasn’t in today, which relieved me immensely, restoring and sharpening my appetite. Not that much ever
dulled it. I strode in.