Chapter 12 #3
“Why tea and not coffee?”
“Not a coffee drinker. Never have been.”
I glanced at the board behind her. “I’ve never been a tea drinker. What do you recommend?”
“Depends on you. What you like. What you need.”
“She needs Upside Down,” Vale interrupted. “I’ll take Cheshire Cat.”
I looked at him. “Will it make you disappear?”
Harriet smiled. “No, it’s a mood booster.” She winked at Vale. “I like this one. You should bring her around again.”
Vale and I objected at the same time.
“Oh, this isn’t?—”
“We’re not?—”
“This is a business meeting,” Vale said. He set his chiseled face at maximum stony .
Harriet observed us. “Huh. Okay. If you say so.”
“You know me, Harriet. I’m all business.”
“Oh, I’m well aware. I thought you might’ve finally loosened up.” She tapped the glass counter. “All the food in my shop is gluten-free.”
“Harriet has celiac disease,” Vale added.
“You’d be surprised how many food items include gluten,” Harriet continued. “That’s one of the reasons I opened The Mad Harriet. A lot of people assume gluten-free is a lifestyle choice rather than a medical condition, so they don’t treat it with the seriousness it deserves.”
“I can vouch for every item here,” Vale said. “I’ve tasted everything on the menu at least once.”
Harriet’s smile could power the entire city of Savannah and the surrounding suburbs. “He has. Vale’s been a welcome champion of small businesses in the city.”
I chose a slice of carrot cake and tried not to salivate all over it. Once we had our tea, Vale asked, “Can we talk somewhere in private?”
“Take her to party room. I’ll be right behind you.”
Vale leaned over to me. “The party room sounds more fun than it actually is.”
The room wasn’t set up for late-night raves, but private tea parties. There was one long table adorned with a bright pink runner and a tall bouquet of wildflowers.
“Cute purse,” Harriet said as she joined us at the table.
“Thanks. It’s probably older than your friendship. I see you like frills.”
“What’s not to like? If all my clothes could be made of pink taffeta, I’d be perfectly content.” She narrowed her eyes at me. “What? You think because I’m a proud Black witch that I can’t be a girly girl? Are those qualities incompatible in your eyes? ”
“Of course not.” The truth was I wasn’t thinking about Harriet at all.
I was only thinking about myself. In my line of work, past and present, frills were a hazard.
No dainty heels that precluded running. No jewelry that could be used to strangle or maim.
It was only once I arrived on the island that I allowed my hair to grow longer.
Prior to that, I kept it short and sweet.
Easier to maintain and better in battle.
“She meant no disrespect, Harriet.”
Harriet cocked an eyebrow in my direction. “Is that so?”
“It is,” I confirmed. “Frills suit you.”
Harriet glanced at Vale. “Is this sarcasm?”
“I don’t think so. I don’t know her well enough to be sure.”
“I apologize. My comment was about me, not you.”
“It wasn’t your comment. It was the face you made when you said it.”
Ah. Well, that explained it. “I have very little control over my facial expressions.”
“Sounds like a personal problem,” Harriet remarked.
“Only during poker and conversations with Black witches who like taffeta. I’m a work in progress.”
She broke into a gap-toothed smile. “Aren’t we all? Let’s continue.”
“Maya is the assistant director of security on Evermore.”
“Evermore.” Her brown eyes widened. “The island for special people?”
“That very one,” I said.
“Ya’ll got witches there?”
“Many.”
“Huh.” Her look of surprise morphed into a frown. “Why do you live there? You can’t be a day over thirty.”
“I’m thirty-five.”
“I thought the island was for the elderly.”
“They make exceptions for staff. You don’t want a security team comprised of aging witches.”
“Lord, no,” Harriet said with a chuckle. “My great-gran was a menace to society the older she got. We were lucky to have a whole-ass coven to look after her. Even then, there were days that challenged us.” She stared into her floral teacup. “I miss that woman to the moon and back.”
I envied her. I never knew my grandmothers. Maybe if I had, my life would’ve been different.
“Are you married?” Harriet asked.
“No.”
“Hmm. How do you date on an island full of ancient folks?”
“Easy. I don’t.”
“To be fair, I’m not convinced you’re missing out. It’s brutal out there.”
Vale gave her a quick look. “What happened to?—”
She cut him off with a shake of her head. “Not now. I’m still recovering.”
I wrapped my hands around the teacup. “I’m investigating two murders on the island. That’s why I had a meeting with Vale.”
“Oh, I see. It’s a Protector thing.”
“I told you it was business,” Vale said. “One of the victims had her fate-thread removed.”
Harriet froze mid-drink and set her cup back on the saucer. “Oh, I get it now. You want me to send her to the Archivist. I should’ve known you had an ulterior motive.”
I looked from Harriet to Vale. And here I thought this was a social call. I, too, should’ve realized Vale had an agenda.
“I think it might be helpful to Miss August. ”
“Maya,” I corrected him.
Harriet kept her focus on Vale. “You know he won’t see you. She’ll have to go alone.”
“That’s fine. As long as she’s able to speak to him, that’s all I care about.”
“No ego on this one,” Harriet said in a cheerful tone.
Knowing what I did about his father, there’d been no room for an ego of his own. Enmesharra would’ve sucked all the oxygen out of every space he inhabited.
“Can you give her the location as a favor to me?” Vale asked.
“Sure.” Harriet popped a chocolate truffle dusted with pink sparkles into her mouth and chewed. “Know anything about the network of tunnels that run beneath the city?”
“I’ve read about them,” I said.
Their mysterious provenance remained a hotly debated topic.
Some people claimed their primary use was to avoid the city streets when transporting slaves.
Other people said the opposite: that the tunnels served as an underground railroad to help slaves escape to freedom.
Another popular theory was that the tunnels were created to hide the bodies of those who succumbed to yellow fever during the epidemic of 1876. All reasonable ideas.
All wrong.
I knew the tunnels predated all of those events.
Long before Black people were kidnapped from their homelands and enslaved by the white establishment, before General James Oglethorpe founded the British colony of Georgia, and before the Indigenous tribes first settled in the area, there was another group of inhabitants.
The fae.
This ancient race of immortals had expanded far beyond their original borders.
When mortals arrived on the scene, the Fates decided that the newer model was easier to control and sought to eradicate the fae from this realm.
In true fae fashion, they’d refused to accept their “fate.” The Old War of Attrition was the result.
The fae lost and were driven underground to the realm known as the Sídhe.
To get to the Sídhe, you needed tunnels.
“You can reach the Archivist through a tunnel in Colonial Park Cemetery. Look for the headstone with the name Catharine Morecock. Slide it to the right and you’ll see the stairs.”
“Move a headstone in broad daylight?” I asked. “Seems a bit risky.”
“I’ll stand guard,” Vale offered.
Harriet peered at him over the rim of her teacup. “Look at you, offering to be the muscle instead of sending someone.”
“I’m already out. Might as well make the most of it.”
“Mm-hmm,” Harriet said, and took a smug sip of tea.
“Thank you for your help, Harriet. I appreciate it.”
“No problem. It was good to meet you, Maya August. Hope to see you again.”
“Same,” I said, knowing it was a lie. Nothing against Harriet, but I had no desire to revisit the mainland anytime ever.
At the exit, Vale held the door open for me. “What are you doing?” I asked.
“What does it look like I’m doing?”
“Holding open the door.”
“Exactly. And now you’re supposed to walk through it.”
“I’m perfectly capable of opening my own doors.”
“I know. I’ve seen you do it. I was only trying to be polite. Would you rather I let go?”
“No, it’s fine.” I walked through the open doorway, and he followed. “I’m not accustomed to having anyone dote on me.”
He laughed. “You call that doting? Nameless strangers do less for each other.”
Now I felt stupid. Time to change the subject before I buried myself in a mound of embarrassment. “How long have you known Harriet?”
Vale wore a thoughtful expression. “Seems like an eternity, but in reality, it’s been ten years. She was one of the first people I met when I claimed my brother’s seat.”
Ten years. Had I been friends with anybody for a decade?
No, I could safely say I had not. For starters, I’d have to befriend someone.
Even on Evermore, I had plenty of acquaintances—Neighbors I knew through my job who occasionally invited me to things like birthday parties for their cat—but mainly I was on my own.
Judd was the closest person to a friend, and even our relationship was—had been—fairly superficial.
Still. I missed Judd. I missed the easy companionship he offered. He never pushed for more answers than I was willing to give, although maybe that was a problem. Maybe I needed someone in my life who cared enough to push. Who challenged me. No one dared to challenge me.
“Were you ever involved with Harriet?” I asked.
“Romantically? No. I’m not her type.”
I left it there. It seemed rude to pry into the personal life of someone I just met. I might not have friends, but I had manners. Sort of.
“I know it may not seem obvious, but she likes you,” Vale said.
“What makes you think that?”
“She didn’t cut the visit short. She may like pink frills, but she’s no pushover. The woman knows how to set a boundary and honor it.”
“My kind of person.”
“I’ll wait for you at the tunnel entrance,” Vale said, once we were outside on the sidewalk. “When you’re finished, my boat will be waiting at the same place you docked.”
“You’re very accommodating. Is this a Protector trait or a Vale trait?”
“I have the means. Why not use them?”
I wondered whether it was more to do with control. It wouldn’t surprise me, given his lineage.
We walked the three blocks in silence until we reached the entrance to the cemetery. The shadows seemed almost protective of the bodies buried within. A delicate mist rolled between the gravestones, like a spiderweb expanding its perimeter. Even in broad daylight, the cemetery had an eerie quality.
“Once I’m inside, don’t feel like you need to wait,” I told Vale.
“I’d like to hear the outcome of the conversation.”
Now seemed like a good time to ask the question that had been burning my tongue. “Why won’t the Archivist see you?”
“An old family squabble, nothing to do with me personally.”
“It’s probably best if you don’t stick around, then,” I said. “Wouldn’t want him to associate the two of us.” I had no idea what to expect from this Archivist, but the fact that I was about to voluntarily enter an ancient tunnel created by the fae gave me an uneasy feeling.
His ice-blue eyes turned colder. “It’s fine. I’ll stay topside. He won’t know I’m here.”
I began to scan the headstones for the designated name. “ I’m serious, Vale. I know ‘protector’ is in your title, but I don’t need it. I’m perfectly capable of handling this on my own.” My heart jumped when I located Catharine Morecock. “Here it is.”
I was so intent on my discovery, I was wholly unprepared for the ambush.