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Copyright © 2019 by Nova Nelson
All rights reserved. FFS Media and Nova Nelson reserve all rights to DeadWitch Walking. This work may not be shared or reproduced in any fashion without permission of the publisher and/or author. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.
Cover Design © FFS Media LLC
Illustration elements by Kerry McQuaide
DeadWitchWalking / Nova Nelson -- 1st ed.
www.novanelson.com
CONTENTS
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Epilogue
You’re Invited …
Author’s Note
About the Author
Chapter One
I sorted silverware slowly and meditatively on the countertop at Medium Rare and thought about death. Nothing new, really.
Except today was an anniversary of sorts, and I wasn’t sure if I should be celebrating.
One year before, to the day, I’d died.
While death itself is rarely cause for celebration, dying was arguably the best thing that had ever happened to me. I’d died and gone to Eastwind.
Not quite Heaven, but from what the angel sheriff had said about thatplace and the fact that she was here and not there, I suspected I’d landed in the better of the two spots.
I didn’t have any celebrations lined up, per se. I had a date later that night, but I was fairly certain Donovan didn’t have a clue about the anniversary. Only two people outside of myself were likely to be aware of it. One had disappeared through a portal three months before and the other was not actually a person in the strictest sense of the word.
“Itjustseemsright,”Grim argued from his place on the floor by my feet, “thatwe wouldcommemoratethisday witha fullbreakfast platter . ”
“Grim, it’s already ten o’clock. I had breakfast hours ago. You werethere.”
“Fine,then.Youdon’thavetopartakeinthecelebration.”
“It’snotevenyourdeathiversary.”
“You’re right, but it’s still an important day for me. It was one yearago today thatyou crashedtheDeadwoodsandforcedmeinto servitude.”
I rolled my eyes. “I’m sorry for your loss. I’ll be sure to send flowers.”
But, heck, what would it hurt if I gave Grim an extra helping today? He’d stuck with me, albeit begrudgingly on the whole, for a year now, saving my hide from all kinds of supernatural scrapes and paranormal dust ups. And he was there for me when it counted.
We’d never spoken about what had happened in the Deadwoods, right after the portal had shut—how he’d helped me back to the house, stuck by me, even given me a well-timed and much-needed nuzzle during the days that followed. And now, months later, we’d gone back to how things usually were between us. But I didn’t forget his small kindnesses.
Grim Goodboy had lived up to his last name.
But telling him that would only agitate him, so I kept it to myself.
When I returned a few minutes later with a full breakfast of overeasy eggs, bacon, and sausage (I skipped the pancakes because I knew from experience that it would only lead to a constipated and grumpy hellhound in my life) and set it on the floor, there was a small rustle in his thick, black fur. Then the little round head of a munchkin cat emerged, sniffing the air.
“You better share with Monster,” I said.
“More like she better share with me. Ifonlyyou could hear the threatsfromthisoneifshedoesn’tgetherway.”
“You love it.”
“Won’tdisagreewithyou.”
Monster wobbled out from the warmth of Grim’s fur and approached the plate, going straight for the broken egg yolks. When I say “wobbled,” I mean it. In the three months since Grim and I had taken Tanner’s abandoned familiar under our wings, we’d outright spoiled her. And it turned out our weapon of choice was food. When Grim gained ten pounds, there was no way to tell with his over-all bulk. But when a little thing like Monster did… well, it showed.
IfTannerevercomesbackandseesherlikethat…
I cut off my thought. He wasn’t coming back. He couldn’t. I ran through the logic again in my head, hoping this time it would sink in: even if I found a portal, bringing him and Eva back into Eastwind would upset nature’s balance. We could never have our circle in the same realm again without dire consequences. We’d seen those play out, and they weren’t pretty. We were lucky no one in Eastwind had been killed when that portal ripped open and all those nasties crawled out, but I couldn’t imagine that such good fortune would strike again.
Tannerisgone.
It had become a bit of a mantra of mine, and I was glad to start needing it less and less. As much as I hate clichés, I guess what they say about time healing wounds is true to some extent. But with the one year anniversary of when I entered Eastwind, stumbled out of the Deadwoods, and wandered right into Medium Rare stirring up those old memories, it felt like a losing battle to not think about him.
That soft grin, those hazel eyes. The smell of his fresh-baked cherry pie filling the dining room…
The bell above the door tinkled and I snapped out of my reverie. I was supposed to be working. The silverware had just been a filler
while my tables were eating, but I’d wasted enough time now.
I’d hired on a couple of new servers who were friends of Greta’s from school—Daphne and Benito—but they were only so-so. I’d had to comp so many meals because of their careless mistakes, I was thinking about turning the place into a charity, some kind of soup kitchen, but with queso.
If only Eva was still around…
I missed her for a lot of reasons, the least of which was her help around the diner. How many times had she given me common sense advice while she worked here? And in a way that made it clear she cared and wasn’t just trying to shut me up. That in itself was a kind of magical ability, and add it to the long list of those I didn’t possess.
Deputy Stu Manchester approached the counter, hiked up his belt, and grunted as he slid onto a stool. “Morning, Ms. Ashcroft.”
“Morning, Deputy. The usual?”
He nodded once, and I put in the order for a short stack of cherry pancakes then fetched him his coffee.
I brought him over a glass of water, too. It was about as much as I could do to encourage him to take care of himself. His short-lived attempt to eat right and get in shape for dating had suffocated under the crushing weight of being the only deputy in Eastwind once again. Who was I to deprive him of carb-loading and tablespoons of sugar in his coffee?
But I’d secretly taken it upon myself to, at the very least, keep the man hydrated so he didn’t keel over.
“How was the shift?” I asked.
He grunted before taking a long sip of water. Little droplets clung to the ends of his mustache as he pulled the glass away. “Not great. But you know, as I was writing up a report about Gladys
Weatherbee’s missing flowerpot, I realized that it was a year ago today that Bruce Saxon was murdered.”
“Right.”
Oof. In my self-absorbed state, I’d forgotten that there had also been a murder on my deathiversary. That meant both Bruce Saxon and I shared a deathiversary. Cute.
Happydeathday,Bruce.
“And then,” Stu went on, “as I was thinking on the particulars of that case, I remembered that it happened the day you came into town.” He narrowed his eyes at me.
“Don’t tell me you’re reopening the case with me as the main suspect.”
“Of course not! But this must be a big day for you. One year in Eastwind.”
I smiled. “I guess so.”
“It’s a big day for Eastwind, I can tell you that! Life around here hasn’t been the same since you dropped in.”
When I arched an eyebrow at his ambiguous sentiment, he cleared his throat. “What I mean to say is that Eastwind is betterfor it.”
As much as my cynical side wanted to drop a steaming pile of unicorn swirls on his statement by saying, “As long as you’re not Tanner or Eva,” I couldn’t do that to him. Giving compliments didn’t come easy to him, so I wouldn’t discourage it.
“Thanks, Stu. I’m glad you didn’t arrest me a year ago today.”
He bowed his head and gave a little wave before testing the heat of his coffee with a small sip.
Anton rang the bell in the kitchen to alert me to an order up, and I quickly retrieved Stu’s breakfast and set it in front of him. He began inhaling it immediately.
“Don’t choke to death,” I said. “Ted looks pretty comfy over in that booth. I’d hate to put him to work.”
The deputy crammed his mouthful into his cheek to speak around it. “If I’m lucky, I’ll get two hours of uninterrupted sleep tonight before some emergency owl comes pecking at my bedroom window. No time to waste with eating.”
Poor guy. “I’m sure you’ll find someone new to hire on soon.”
He look a long drink of coffee to help mash up his mouthful, then he swallowed and said, “If not, I’m gonna have to go through back channels to hire a doppelgänger of myself just so I can get some peace and quiet.”
I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, that sounds like the most logical solution. Nothing I love more than knowing the town’s deputy is overworked to the point of considering criminal activity.”
He grunted but otherwise seemed unbothered, so I grabbed the coffeepot from the cradle and made the rounds for refills.
The place was a little emptier than usual for this time on a weekday, but it happened like that sometimes. There was no explaining it. Some days it was slammed on a Tuesday, and others it was nearly empty on a Saturday.
But every day the back corner booth was occupied by our resident grim reaper. That never changed. And if it did, I might become a praying woman, because surely it would be a bad omen. “More coffee, Ted?”
He’d been staring through the window toward the Deadwoods when I’d approached, and he snapped his hooded head around toward me with a start. “Huh? Oh. Heh. Hi, Nora. You scared me.”
I scared a grim reaper? Life achievement unlocked, I guess.
“Looked like you were thinking hard about something,” I said.
“Not thinking. Sensing. As you know, they’re not the same thing.”
“O-kay…” Proceeding with caution seemed wise here. And yet, against my better judgment, I asked, “What were you sensing?” “Impending death.”
Chapter Two
“Death,” I echoed. Of course.
“Mm-hmm.” Ted lifted up his empty mug to get my attention, and I filled it up. “A death presence of some sort,” he continued. “Not sure what it is yet. It’s still a great distance away, but it’s coming closer. In fact, it’s almost here.”
I scrunched up my face, absorbing Ted’s forbidding statement. Don’tkeepprying,Nora. Don’tdoit.Because maybe if I didn’t stick my nose in it, it wouldn’t become my problem to fix.
Unlikely. “So when you say ‘death presence,’ what exactly do you mean?” I was already kicking myself as the words flowed out.
He shrugged. “Can’t say yet. It starts out as a little tickle under my tongue. Then it usually gets stronger until I can feel it in the soles of my feet. Maybe it’s just an impending murder, and I can sense the murderer concocting the plot—murderous thoughts can create a death presence, but there are so many of those flying around this little town that it takes quite a lot for me to sense one above the clatter of the rest. Maybe a grim was just made in the Deadwoods. I sensed a death presence when you came to town. And then there’s always the possibility another reaper has decided to pay us a visit.”
“Another reaper? But I recall you telling me two reapers in the same realm is catastrophic.”
“Oh, it is.” His coffee was still scalding, but he sucked it down anyway. “So let’s hope it’s not that.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “Yeah, here’s hoping. I guess, um, just keep me updated if you decide it’s something I need to know about.”
“I wouldn’t bother you with it, Nora. Besides, it would be more a matter of interest to Sheriff Bloom in any of those cases. Well, not the grim. But as long as it stayed in the Deadwoods, who cares?”
I bet Grim would care. Though he’d never admit it, the slobbery thing clearly enjoyed being unique in town.
After excusing myself from Ted, I took a few more orders, sat a few more tables, and said hello to a few more regulars. Minutes and hours flew by like they often did. Medium Rare had the ability to warp time. Sometimes it slowed down to an intolerable crawl, and others it felt like I’d skipped over entire days.
Before I knew it, Stu had left for home to get what little shut-eye he could wrangle, Ted had finished his last cup of coffee and returned to the Deadwoods, and Jane had arrived for her shift as manager.
She took her apron from the hook by the kitchen door and slung it over her neck.
The dinner rush wouldn’t hit for another few hours, and the lunch rush had already subsided. Only two tables were sat in the entire place—at one was the insomniac werewolf Hendrix Hardy, whose coffee consumption I’d long suspected influenced his inability to sleep (although occasionally he would nod off in the booth for short bursts only to wake with a start and a snort), and in the other sat a small group of Coven witches.
They were newcomers. Very few witches wandered this far into the Outskirts. It was, by and large, werewolf territory. But after the battle in the Eastwind Emporium on Halloween, a lot of small changes had started to take place, including the occasional witch stepping out of his or her comfort zone. These three had been among the first to venture this way—perhaps they thought it was safe to come to a witch-run establishment—and they’d returned almost weekly in the off-hours. And every time, they spoke in hushed tones as if conspiring against some king or queen only to erupt into wild laughter. The telltale signs of delicious gossip.
“Got plans tonight?” Jane asked, tying her apron in the back.
“Yeah, actually I do.”
She looked stunned. I didn’t appreciate it. “Really?”
“Yes. Why ask the question if you’ll only believe one answer?”
“A little small-talk isn’t a crime.”
“You hate small-talk.”
She conceded with a tiny nod. “You’re right. I dunno what got into me.”
I could have stopped there, but I actually didwant to talk about my evening’s plans. And Jane was probably the only person whose advice I trusted about it. “I’m going to dinner with Donovan.”
She bit back a smile and one of her brows broke free and shot up. “Yeah?”
“Yep.”
“And?”
“And what?”
She sighed impatiently. “And how do you feel about dating Donovan only three months after the man you were in love with slipped through a portal to another realm?”
“About as you might expect. But what’s weird is”—I leaned closer to her behind the countertop—“I’m kind of nervous.”
She chuckled. “And to be clear, this is your first official date with him.”
“Yep.”
“Didn’t you two decide to give it a go back on New Year’s Eve?”
“We did. It’s been weeks. And, you know, we’ve been talking here and there, but we’ve both been working a lot, and we work opposite hours.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “Mm-hm.”
“What?”
“I don’t buy that.”
“What part don’t you buy? You’ve seen me here. Ever since… ever since I’ve been the only one in charge, I’ve had to work crazy hours.”
She shook her head. “You’ve been the only one in charge since Tanner took a job with the sheriff’s department. This is nothing new. Plus, you shut this place down at night now, so there are fewer hours to spread between everyone. And, you know, if you really want to spend more time with Donovan, you and I can switch shifts. You’re the boss, you can just make that decision, and I’d be more than happy to comply.”
I grunted. Jane’s blunt honesty was always the best medicine for me, but it was generally a bitter one. “Fine. You got me.”
“Why are you avoiding him, really?”
I opened my mouth to respond, but I couldn’t put words to it yet. It didn’t take much effort for them to come tumbling out, though. “What if we’re a terrible match? What if the only thing that drew him to me was that I was Tanner’s girl? You know they had that weird competition going on. What if, after all that’s happened, I realize
Donovan is actually the jerk he pretends to be, not the injured-butkindhearted guy I hope he is? What if I go to dinner with him tonight, and we have nothing to talk about?”
To her credit, she didn’t laugh at my rambling insecurities. Instead, her expression softened, and she stepped forward, putting a hand on my shoulder. “Then it’s okay,” she said. “This doesn’t have to work out. But, for what it’s worth, I don’t think what you’re worried about has any basis in reality. I’ve seen the way he looks at you, Nora. Maybe the date will be awkward, but if you think that would stop him, you’re dead wrong. Not to poke at the past too much, but you dating his best friend didn’t even stop him.”
I realized my shoulders were in a knot, and I took a deep breath and relaxed them. “You’re right. I guess I’m still just… I miss—”
“I know. And that’s okay. You’re allowed to feel that and still move on.”
She let her arm fall from my shoulder, and I took a sip of my end-of-shift coffee.
“So,” she said, “I know this is your first date, but have you two… you know?” A sly smile spread across her face. I nearly spit out my coffee. “Jane!”
She held up her hands in a defensive posture. “What? I was there at the fireworks show. I saw the way you two were acting on that blanket, and it wasn’t lost on me that the pair of you snuck off together. I just figured, after all the waiting…”
“No,” I said, putting a swift end to her speculation. “He just walked me home, and that was it. I didn’t invite him inside or anything. Sheesh, Jane. What kind of a woman do you take me for?”
“A smart one,” she said. “Which is why I assumed you wouldn’t let a moment with that hot East Wind slip through your fingers again.”
I rolled my eyes, and put my back to her so she wouldn’t be able to glean any more from my expression.
But my face grew hot, and my stomach clenched just thinking about that night…
Donovan had walked me home, and he hadn’t come inside—that was all true.
And the rest was none of Jane’s business.
She didn’t need to know about how he whispered goodnight, his lips only inches from mine. And she didn’t need to know about how badly I wanted to invite him up. And she didn’t need to know about how, in a moment of synchronicity, our bodies crashed together before he grabbed my wrists and pinned me against the front door in the darkness, or about how I could taste his passion on his lips, the way chills ran down my spine as he painted ravenous kisses down my neck…
And she especially didn’t need to know how we both tumbled inside and he landed on top of me when Ruby opened the door, after assuming the staggered thuds against it were a visitor banging for entry.
Ruby’s cursing when she’d realized what was really happening on her front porch had pretty much killed the moment, and we hadn’t had another one since.
Grim gagged like he had a hairball lodged in his throat, and I blinked to clear the memory. “You okay, boy?”
“You mean outside of being awoken from a fantastic dream about hunting a pack of hidebehinds by the smell of your pheremones?Youwerethinkingabouthimagain,weren’tyou?”
“None of your business.”
Grim crawled to his feet. “Come on, Monster . Time to leave beforewebothchoketodeath.”
I’m not sure if it was just my imagination, but I could have sworn Tanner’s familiar was glaring at me as she rode past on Grim’s back.
I can’t even say where my mind was when I stepped out of the delicious warmth of Medium Rare and into the blistering February cold. It wasn’t unusual to feel like something was watching me from the edge of the Deadwoods only a few hundred yards away, but today it felt especially likely. Maybe it was just what Ted had said about impending death that had my hackles up. Or maybe it was that Grim had left without me so I was alone when I usually had him by my side. Or maybe it was something more.
My Insight prickled. Was I getting myself worked up… or was I sensing the same thing Ted had?
I hugged my coat around me tighter and started for home, listening carefully for any small shuffle that might be a precursor to someone or something rushing up on me.
I was hardly two blocks from the diner when I did hear something on my right and whipped my head around to look. It was hardly more than a shadow that disappeared quickly behind the Ram’s Head Inn.
But if I wasn’t going crazy a possibility that I’d be the first to say was not entirely implausible—I’d swear I’d just caught a glimpse of a giant hellhound.
That couldn’t be, though. The hellhounds didn’t leave the Deadwoods.
Grimdid,said a tiny voice in my head.
Insight,isthatyou?I replied.
Ted had mentioned the possibility of another grim coming into existence. Was that what had happened? Was that the death he had sensed, a hellhound rising from its grave?
Or maybe it was just a shadow, a trick played on me by a passing cloud.
I looked up at the sky, which was completely overcast. Okay, but still, it could have been anything.
At least that’s what I told myself as I scrambled away.
Chapter Three
Fifteen minutes before the knock on the front door of Ruby’s parlor, I’d run out of ways to primp and therefore preoccupy myself.
Magical shower? Check. Clean pants and a baby-blue sweater? Check. Brush teeth? Check.
Aaaand… that was about it. I’d considered putting on makeup just to have something to do with my hands, but then I remembered I didn’t have any. They certainly sold it in Eastwind, but it’d never occurred to me to buy any. Sure, I’d had some back in my old life, but even then I was never big on it. Maybe a little coverage of some of the redder parts of my face and a few strokes of mascara, but who had time for all the rest?
So, since makeup wasn’t an option, I did a very Ruby-esque thing and filled the space by making tea. I scooped so much of her dried lavender into the mix that I made a mental note to swing by the Pixie Mixie the next day to refill her stores.
But once I heard the knock, I breathed a sigh of relief and answered the door.
There he stood, tall, jaw-droppingly gorgeous, and mine for the taking. A modest grin spread across his lips as he took me in through those ice-blue eyes. Then he paused, his dark eyebrows
pinching together, and he leaned to the side to look past me. “Are you sacrificing lavender bushes in there or what?”
“Oh, um…”
“Don’t get me wrong,” he added, “I love the smell.”
I grabbed my overcoat from the hook and slipped it on before stepping out and closing the door behind me. “It’s nothing.”
Just that I haven’t been this anxious about a boy since I was fourteen.
It was already dark outside as I stepped onto the porch, and in the light of the streetlamps, small flurries of snow fell silently. I turned back to him, and my heart nearly leaped into my chest.
He was looking right at me. “You look beautiful.”
For a moment, I wasn’t sure we’d make it off my porch at all, let alone all the way to the restaurant. Thoughts of the last time we’d stood on this doorstep together flooded my brain like a drug.
“Thanks.”
“I mean it. You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”
I chuckled. “Too much. Now I know you’re lying.”
Rather than denying it, he, too, chuckled and motioned with a sweep of his arm for us to head out.
I can’t say I wasn’t grateful for the cold, because it meant the question of holding hands was out. I stuffed my fists straight into the pockets of my coat, and so did he—his coat, not mine. That would’ve been weird.
You’re such an idiot. Since when does holding hands give you anxiety?
But being with him did make me feel a little like I was back in high school. Everything seemed new again.
“Where are we going?” I asked, realizing I’d forgotten to eat since breakfast.
“Straight back to my place,” he said.
I jerked my head around to look at him, and he laughed. “I’m kidding. Although, if you’re into it…”
“You’re not getting out of buying me dinner, so stop trying.”
He relented. “We’re going to Luna’s Den.”
“I haven’t heard of it.”
“Of course you haven’t. It’s in Hightower Gardens and it only accepts three reservations a night. I had to book it six weeks out.”
I did some quick mental math. “Wait. That was back in December.”
He shrugged. “I dunno what to tell you.”
“And if, you know, I hadn’t gone along with your proposal on New Year’s Eve?”
“I would have had a lovely dinner alone. Wouldn’t have been my first.”
I nudged him with my shoulder. “You’re such a victim,” I teased.
“I like to see myself as a survivor,” he quipped. “Sometimes, it just takes waiting it out until you get your chance at what you want.”
He seemed to realize what he’d just implied, and he quickly added, “I don’t mean I was trying to outlive Tanner or anything. You know I never wanted that to happen, and I was happy with Eva. Or, well, I didn’t stop thinking about you, but I was also—”
He’d stopped walking as he stammered through his explanation. I pulled my hand out of my pocket and put it on the sleeve of his navy blue wool coat. “It’s okay. I get it.”
I met his eyes and he nodded. “I know you do. I’m sorry.”
I wasn’t sure what he meant by that, which part he was sorry about.
Without thinking, I moved toward him and did something completely foreign to us.
I kissed him softly, slowly. Just once, then I pulled back, feeling a bit tipsy.
He hadn’t even had enough notice to pull his hands from his pockets by the time I stepped back. His eyes cut into mine, but he didn’t say a word.
And then we continued on to Hightower Gardens, the soft hush of the snow making it feel as if we were the only two people in the entire world.
* * *
I could tell immediately that Donovan had never actually been in Luna’s Den. He seemed as shocked as I was to discover the intense intimacy of the place.
They only accepted three reservations a night because there were only three tables, and while each had its own small nook for privacy, the general decor seemed like it would be more appropriate at a high-priced brothel than in an establishment where people ate.
The host greeted us with a nod and didn’t even ask for a name before taking our coats and leading us to our table.
It was low to the ground, much like the one Donovan kept in his home. And similar to that, we were to sit on the ground. Only, these weren’t individual cushions, but one semicircle that seemed intended for both parties to snuggle up close.
Not a family establishment, clearly.
I’ll admit, my mouth fell open just a little bit when I saw the accommodations. But at least I didn’t burst into laughter like he did.
The host looked alarmed. “Is everything okay, Mr. Stringfellow?”
He struggled in vain to compose himself. “Yes. Everything is great. I’m sorry. I just… thought of something funny that happened earlier today.”
The host didn’t buy it, but he wasn’t paid to do that, and he simply nodded and left us to settle in.
“Is it the red fringe?” I asked, adjusting my backside into a comfortable position on the cushion.
“I swear I didn’t know it was like this inside,” he said, struggling to catch his breath. “I knew it was nice, but this looks like…” He didn’t put exact words to it.
ThehoneymoonsuiteofaVegashotel, I thought. Not cheap, per se, but not especially classy and sophisticated. And our table was the heart-shaped hot tub of tables. Of course he wouldn’t get the reference at all.
“What kind of food do they serve?” I asked. The host hadn’t left any menus.
“Wisconsin-style steaks, mostly.”
“I have no idea what that means here.” If I were back in my old realm, I would assume that meant there was some sort of cheese involved. But the Wisconsin everyone in Eastwind knew and (some) loved wasn’t a state but a world just off of Avalon, run by weres. It was where Jane and Ansel had honeymooned. I’d assumed it was just forestland out there where they could shift and run wild, but maybe it also had a few Vegas-like establishments that echoed this style.
“It means you’re about to have the best steak of your life,” he said. “You know, as long as you don’t mind it rare.”
While I preferred my steaks medium rare, if I was in good culinary hands, I was willing to try it another way. “Rare can be delicious.”
When the waitress approached, she smiled at us and welcomed us. Then, she recited the daily menu. My culinary heart nearly exploded. This was one of thosesteak houses, the kind where they
practically worshipped meat and presented it like an offering to the gods. I could almost see a great cut simmering in its own fine juices, could already taste it falling apart like butter in my mouth.
By the time the waitress finished listing off the specials, I was so convinced she knew her stuff that I would have trusted her with my life… which is kind of what you’re doing every time you step into a restaurant and allow someone else to cook for you. (I tried not to think about that too often.)
When she suggested a wine to pair with our meals, I immediately said yes, and she nodded and left.
My eyes met Donovan’s and he nodded. “This is going to be amazing.”
It was the strangest thing. Instantly, I knew he understood just howamazing. Was he… a secret foodie?
“And you say you’ve never been here before?” “Never. Never had occasion.”
I tilted my head to the side and delivered a stern glare. I didn’t want to say Eva’s name, so I hoped he’d get the point without it.
He did. “Fine, fine. But I don’t think she would have liked it. She was a vegetarian before she came to Eastwind.”
My mouth fell open. “What?” I’d seen her eat meat at work multiple times. Maybe Medium Rare’s food was just that good.
Or maybe she thought it was time for a change. To be fair, all the meat in Eastwind is produced in a much more ethical manner than back home. No cramped cages, no hormone injections. Granted, there’s probably a bit of magic involved, but no one seems worried about it, and I don’t know enough about it to raise objections.
“Yeah,” he said. “She made me promise not to tell, but I guess it’s fine now.” The corners of his lips wilted into a frown.
Had he been in love with her? I hadn’t ever heard them say it, but they also weren’t the type to do that in public.
I reached out on instinct and grabbed his hand. “I won’t tell anyone about Eva’s dark secret.”
He broke into a dumb grin before he could force it back into place. When he laughed, so did I, and once again, the unspoken words “I understand because I’m in it, too,” passed between us.
I could go on about the wine and the steaks, but suffice it to say that even as we tried to savor each mouthful, neither lasted long. With empty plates in front of us, we ordered a second bottle of wine. The glass dangled casually in my hand as I sipped on it, musing about how this night was already great and held the promise of getting much, much better once we left. “So, you know of any other great restaurants we should check out soon?”
He cocked his head to the side and arched a brow as he inspected me. “You trying to snag a second date with me, Nora?”
“I’m trying to get you to pick up the checks for my tour de forks, yes.”
He nodded. “Fair enough. I guess I should take what I can…” He paused and his nose crinkled. “Do you feel that?”
Not only could I feel it, but I could also see it. The female spirit was nestled up so closely at Donovan’s side that I worried she might be about to slip inside him and possess my hot date.
“Yes, I feel that,” I said, addressing him before glaring at the female interloper. “Not cool. Paws off.”
“I like seeing you a little territorial,” Donovan said.
The spirit flipped her long, silky hair behind her shoulder, and wound her arms around one of Donovan’s. Even in the dim light I could see his arm hair stand on end where he’d pulled up the
sleeves of his light gray sweater. “What are you going to do, necromancer?” the spirit taunted.
“First of all, that term is outdated and a little offensive. It’s ‘Fifth Wind’ now. And second, I’ll banish you. I’m not playing tonight, woman. I’ve got a belly full of rare steak and red wine, and if you think that isn’t a recipe for throwing down, you got another thing coming. We can talk later, but for now, get lost.”
The ghost was beautiful, and when she pouted her lips, it looked more sultry than childish. “You haven’t even heard what I have to say.”
“How long have you been dead?”
“Depends. What year is it?”
I told her.
“Eighty-eight years, then.”
Nodding, I said, “Fantastic. Then you can wait one more day.”
We locked eyes, and finally it seemed to get through to her that I wasn’t kidding.
Her sweet girlish voice lowered when she said, “I could possess him, you know. So, so easily…”
She must really have been a piece of work when she was alive. Probably uber-wealthy, used to getting her way. Wasn’t hard to imagine why someone might want to murder her. “I know you could. But then I’d just exorcise him and banish you to the depths without an ounce of remorse.”
“What?” said Donovan. “Exorcise who? Me? Why is this being discussed?”
The ghost scowled. “Not if I made him attack you first.”
“You’ve made your point. If you don’t shut it, I will definitelynot help you tomorrow.”
She grunted, paused for a moment, then let go of Donovan’s arm and dissolved.
He blinked at me, wide-eyed. “Who was that?”
“Not sure. Don’t worry, I got her to scram.” I finished off the rest of my glass. “But I think there’s somewhere we need to go after this.”
“I’m guessing you’re not referring to either of our homes.”
Poor guy still looked a little freaked out, so I kept a straight face. “Nope. Not yet, at least. But if we’re going to be spending more time together, it’s probably wise for you to use protection.”
Quickly realizing what I’d said, I clarified, more for my own sake than his. “Spiritual protection.”
Another random document with no related content on Scribd:
In 1809 an obverse head of Liberty; forehead encircled by a band, “ ” inscribed upon it, surrounded by thirteen stars. Exergue: “1809.”
Reverse: Wreath in a circular garland inclosing the words “ .” No change took place during the issues of 1808 to 1814, inclusive.
H -C 1793.
The first half-cent was issued in 1793, having on obverse: Bust of Liberty, facing to the left; staff surmounted by liberty-cap over right shoulder. Legend: “ .” Exergue: “1793.”
Reverse; Inscription, “ ,” surrounded by a wreath, tied with a ribbon. Weight, 132 grains.
W C .
Obverse: Bust of Liberty, hair flowing. Legend: “ .” Exergue: “1793.”
Reverse: A wreath with berries, the stems of wreath tied in a bow with a ribbon. Inscription: “ .” Legend: “ .” Exergue: “⅟₁₀₀.”
Third. Known as the “Liberty Cap Cent.”
L S W C .
Obverse: A bust of Washington, in uniform, facing right, hair in a queue. Legend: “ .”
Reverse: A shield with sixteen argent and gules impaling argent, fifteen mullets; above the shield an eagle, left talon, an olive branch, right talon, six arrows. Legend: “ .” Exergue: “17 95,” divided by the point of the shield. Border: A plain circle, and outside of the same, milled edge, lettered “
.” Size, 20½; weight, 310 grains. This piece is extremely rare.
V H -P .
The well-known Virginia half-pennies seem to have been very plentiful. A number of different dies were used. A laureated bust of George the Third is surrounded, as on the English half-penny, with his title, “ III. .” The reverse has an ornamental and crowned shield, emblazoned quarterly: 1, England empaling Scotland; 2, France; 3, Ireland; 4, the electoral dominions. Legend: “ .”
C 1809 H C 1793 C C 1793
P “T C ” P . C . 1799. S P C . 1792.
See description
PLATE XII.
D H W . L S W M . 1795. G H C T .
N. Y. C C . 1787. C E T . 1694. V H C .
See description
M 1776, C N ’ I . “K M ,” M A
1798 S D . O R .
PLATE XV.
R A . M
H C .
R I M . P M I C N Y T
See description.
R C C , N J [18] W H D 1792
W C 1783
W C . 1783. W C . V R . 1792. W C . 1791.
T M . C G .
C S , E M J L , B C
J L , A D
S . G . M P .
D E , 1849. “Unique,” beyond price. G D , 1849. D E . 1885.
H E , 1849 T D E , 1795 H E , 1885
E , 1849. H E , 1795. E , 1885.
T D Gold Piece, 1885 Q E , 1847 Q E , 1885 G D , 1885
