“My friend is looking for information on a stone and I told her you’re the experts around here,” Kami said.
The taller one squinted at me. “What kind of stone, sweetness? Is it one like you see here?” She waved a hand in the direction of the shelves that were lined with all manner of rocks. Pink ones glittered. Black ones sparkled. The inventory seemed to be organized by category, but I couldn’t tell at a glance what those categories were. “If not, perhaps I can interest you in one of our specialty stones instead.”
I offered a polite smile. “Trust me. Whatever you have here isn’t comparable.”
“We’d like information on a stone that drives men crazy,” Kami said.
A small smile stretched the shorter one’s lips until they practically blended with her skin. “Oh, I see. Tell me, is there a special man in your life? Lovely women like you—surely there must be someone.” Her smile widened. “Hopefully many someones.”
Her sister scoffed and waved a dismissive hand at me. “Oh, please, Sigrid. Look at this one. No meat on her bones. An axe on her back. There’s only a cat that awaits her at home.”
My hands flew to my hips. “Hey! There’s more than just a cat.”
Sigrid lit up. “I knew it!”
“Not a man. A pygmy goat, a red panda, a hen…” I ticked off the other types of animals on my fingers.
The witch’s smile shortened. “Now I see why you’re in need of a yoni egg.”
“A yoni egg?” I hadn’t heard of a yoni bird.
The sisters exchanged knowing smiles and Sigrid clapped her hands. “Come, come. Evanka and I will show you.”
Kami and I followed them to an aisle at the far end of the shop. Evanka gestured to a row of polished stones. They were oblong in shape and came in a variety of colors and sizes, all smaller than my fist.
“These are made of jade or quartz,” Sigrid said.
“They’re pretty, but I’m not in the market for trinkets.”
“Oh, these are not trinkets, sweetness,” Evanka said. “These are for practical use.”
Kami scrutinized the smooth stones. “I believe what we have here is a failure to communicate.”
“You said you need a stone that drives men crazy.” Evanka tapped the shelf. “Trust me. Improve your vaginal performance and watch him go wild.”
Kami slapped her forehead. “We’re not here for that.”
Sigrid blew a raspberry. “Nonsense. Every woman wants to improve vaginal performance.”
I stared at the polished stones. “Yoni eggs are…They go…”
Kami nodded and pointed to her nether regions.
“Use them for Kegel exercises,” Evanka said. “Very effective.”
I grimaced. “That doesn’t seem hygienic.”
“You clean them after use,” Sigrid advised. “They increase your libido.”
“Also shortens the menstrual cycle. Helps make you less interesting to vampires,” Evanka added.
Kami shot me an apologetic look. “We’re not here for a magic vagina stone.”
“It’s a specific stone,” I said. “With markings on it.”
Evanka folded her arms and huffed. “What does this specific stone look like? Can you draw it?”
“No. I’ve never seen it.”
Sigrid scrunched her nose. “You’re looking for a stone you’ve never seen? Why?”
“It’s a long story.” I glanced at the polished stones. “Why do they call them yoni eggs?”
“‘Yoni’ is an ancient Indian word for ‘sacred space,’” Evanka said.
I instinctively squeezed my thighs together. I was so glad Kami was with me today and not Callan. The vampire would’ve had a field day in the shop. He likely would’ve slipped a yoni egg into my pocket when I wasn’t paying attention. The idea of the prince’s hand in my pocket made my cheeks warm and I quickly brushed the thought aside.
“Have you ever heard of a substance that causes werewolves to lose control over their ability to shift?” I asked.
Evanka smirked. “That’s called alcohol. Impacts their performance in other ways, too.”
Kami seemed to sense we were barking up the wrong tree. “Thanks for your help, ladies. I think we have what we need.”
“Are you sure we can’t interest you in anything today?” Sigrid asked. She motioned to my hands. “Looks like someone could use a pumice stone for those calluses.”
I splayed my fingers and examined the dry, cracked skin.
“Removes dead skin,” Evanka added.
Sigrid held up a handful. “With your skin, you’ll need more than one. You should probably use it every day, but stop if it makes you bleed. You don’t want an infection.”
“Or to attract vampires,” Evanka said in a low voice.
Kami clamped a hand on my shoulder. “Oh, my friend doesn’t need any help in that department.”
I shook off her hand and smiled at the witches. “I’ll take the lot.”
13
Hole took the term ‘dive bar’ to another level. Broken floorboards. Spiderwebs. Rowdy customers. A jukebox that only played classic rock from pre-Eternal Night.
The bar was owned by a portly werewolf named George. If you considered running out on your bill, he could shoot you from behind the counter before you made it the door. His cache of weapons was hidden in plain sight, tidied away behind a red and white gingham curtain on George’s side of the counter.
He knew my name but knew better than to use it. He also knew I came here to be anonymous, like many of his patrons. Usually I came here to meet clients sent to me by Mack Quaid, a Knight of the First Order. But not today.
Today I’d invited Mack himself.
“Thanks for meeting me.”
The knight surveyed the shabby interior. “Hole is…pretty descriptive.”
“Which is why I don’t need to worry about vampires here.” They tended to avoid dive bars, especially in this part of the city. “I need information.”
“Why not meet me at my office?” He sniffed the glass of ale we’d gotten from the bar. “The drinks are less stale there.”
“In the off-chance I’m being watched, I thought it best to meet somewhere discreet.” There was no reason to think Maeron had stopped sending his spies after me. If there was another powerful stone in the mix, I didn’t want the prince to know about it.
Mack unfolded his napkin and tucked it into his shirt like he was ready to take down a plate of spaghetti in an Italian restaurant. He was the kind of man who was popular in any setting. Broad shoulders and a mischievous smile made him popular socially. Skill with a blade made him popular among knights. A round, cheerful face, ruddy cheeks, and an open wallet made him popular at the pub.
Mack cocked his head. “Who’s watching you?”
“Doesn’t matter.” The answer risked revealing more than I was inclined to share, not that I didn’t trust Mack. He and I met three years ago on an assignment in Camden when we’d been given the same job by the same client. I won that competition and impressed Mack in the process. Now if there was a job he couldn’t assign to his own banner for one reason or another, he sent it my way.
“Okay, what kind of information are we talking about then?”
“I need an expert on ancient stones. A real expert,” I added hastily, remembering Kami’s idea of one.