Chapter 15
ALDRIC
The moment Waverly removed her hand from mine, I wanted it back. And yet I knew that wasn’t possible.
Waverly looked down at her seafood baked potato. “Well, that’s ambitious. It looks like the ocean and a potato had sex and this was the result.”
I stared at her for half a second before I laughed. Not a polite Chamber laugh—a real, guttural one.
Waverly looked up and smiled. “Sorry. Lack of filter.”
We finished lunch, chatting about the comfortable social niceties, without any further magical incidents.
By the time we stepped back onto Harbor Street, the afternoon had taken on that golden autumn quality that made Driftwood Pointe look more charming than it had any right to.
Shop windows glowed, gulls complained from the rooftops, and a lovely cooling salt breeze moved through the street as if it had somewhere important to be.
I caught Waverly eyeing me. “What?”
She squinted and bit the corner of her lip. “I’m still not convinced about you.”
“Convinced about what?”
“Your story.”
Raising an eyebrow, I took a step closer to her and said in a hushed tone, “Perhaps I am simply private.”
She mimicked my movement. “And perhaps you’re secretly a spy.”
“A spy for whom?”
She pointed at me. “Exactly what a spy would say.”
We stood close—me looking down at her, her looking up at me.
I swallowed. “I have some Chamber business that requires my attention this afternoon,” I forced myself to say.
Her smile faltered slightly. “Oh. Of course. You don’t have to babysit me.” She stepped back.
The feeling of loss was instantaneous. “No, I am not babysitting you. It’s just a meeting I couldn’t reschedule. That’s all.” I hoped she understood. “No babysitting.”
“Good, because it’d be difficult to burp me.”
I blinked.
She grinned, her eyes teasing.
It was going to be a hell of a fight not to sweep this woman up and refuse to let her go until I’d tossed her into my bed. I strategically put my hands in my pockets.
“Can I ask a favor?” Waverly asked.
Not trusting what would come out of my mouth, I simply nodded.
“Could I—and it’s totally all right to say no—could I use the Chamber conference room while you’re occupied? I’d like to organize some ideas.”
“Absolutely. Are you all right if I’m not there? My meeting is at the Hex & Hearth.”
Her entire face brightened. “I think I’ll be all right. I can take care of myself.”
Ten minutes after arriving back at the Chamber, the conference room had been transformed into what appeared to be the command center of a woman planning a small, efficient coup.
Laptop open. Several visitor maps of the town unfolded and marked with different colored highlighters.
A notebook to the left of her computer. Gerald standing sentry at the front of the keyboard.
Several pens and highlighters. Yellow, green, and orange folders lined up on the table.
An open container of assorted candy on the opposite side of the notebook.
Sitting at the far end of the table, looking enormously pleased with himself, was Mr. McFluffinstuff.
“You’ve gotten well settled in,” I said, looking at the table. “You’ll be okay?”
She looked up over the top of her blue glasses. “I’m a writer alone with a map and a table. I’m thriving.”
“I’m off then. See you soon.”
I touched the doorframe of the Hex & Hearth before entering, as I had done for years. I couldn’t remember the exact reason—habit, respect, or perhaps even survival.
Inside, the familiar warmth wrapped around me.
The tavern smelled of cedar smoke, orange peel, sea salt, and old wood.
Firelight moved across dark beams. Bottles glittered behind the bar in colors no glass had any business being.
Somewhere, though no musicians occupied the corner stage, a fiddle played softly.
I made my way to the bar, looking for Elara, when a drink appeared in front of me. My favorite—the Fae Accord.
Elara stood behind the bar, polishing a glass that was already spotless. She looked at me for three full seconds, then smiled.
“Well, now. If it isn’t Driftwood Pointe’s oldest man.”
“Good afternoon, Elara. Thank you.” I raised my glass.
“So,” she leaned her head to the left, “you have need of my help.”
I stilled. There was no point pretending with Elara. She skipped the path entirely and went straight to the locked door.
“I do. There is a woman in town.”
She gasped and tossed the dish towel in the air. “Oh no! NOT A WOMAN! Shall I alert the elders and the coven?”
Rolling my eyes, I gave my head a slight shake. “Funny. This one’s different. She sees things.”
Elara’s humor softened but didn’t vanish. “What sort of things?”
I filled her in on everything—Mr. McFluffinstuff, the curtsy, the bottle, and Waverly’s comments about things appearing and disappearing around her. When I was done, Elara was leaning against the bar, tapping her nails slowly on the wood.
“And you don’t sense any magic?” she asked.
“Not even a whiff. Neither did Pembrook. That’s what baffles me.”
The Hex & Hearth quieted around us. Not enough for mortals to notice. Enough for me to feel the tavern itself was listening.
“And no chance she’s lying?” Elara asked.
“No.” The answer came too fast.
Elara’s eyebrows rose.
I took a swig of my drink. It was perfect. Damn her.
“You said she told you she felt the town called her here?” Elara asked.
“Yes. What does that even mean?”
“It means something here is calling to her.”
“She says she came for research.”
“She probably believes that’s why she’s here. We know better.”
I stared into my drink. The ice had not melted. “What do I do?”
Elara smiled. “Why do you care?”
“Because she’s a human who can see magic.”
Elara raised her right eyebrow and nodded slowly. “And now the real reason?”
“I regret coming here.”
“No, you don’t. You’re simply offended that someone noticed you needed rescuing because you care about her and she’s human.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Or am I wrong?”
Sighing, I knew I had to admit the truth. “You’re not wrong. You’re never wrong.”
“I bet that burned coming out of your mouth.” She reached under the bar and set a small vial between us. “Bring her here tonight. The Truth Teller.”
“No.”
“It won’t harm her. It simply lowers the barriers between thought and speech. If she’s lying, we’ll know. If she’s is confused, we’ll know. It’s the only way to find out. She won’t remember it.”
Every instinct I had resisted the idea. And yet, if something in this town was pulling at her, I needed to know she wasn’t walking into it blind.
Not because I cared—she was human, and that was the end of it—but because whatever was calling to her was doing so in my town, and that made it my responsibility.
“And if something in town called her here?”
Elara’s gaze sharpened. “Then there’s a reason, and you need to let her lead. Don’t steer. Whatever is calling her will pull harder the closer she gets.”
“And if I don’t like what she finds?”
“Then I imagine tomorrow will be very difficult for you.”
I sighed.
“Elara.”
“Aldric.” Her voice softened. “She trusts you. Of course you should be there to protect her in case something goes wrong. But from what you’ve told me, I don’t think it will.”
Elara closed her eyes, and I knew from years of friendship not to speak until she was done. After a moment, she looked at me.
“I don’t sense anything out of the ordinary or exceptionally evil in the town.”
I finished my drink. “That’s something. All right. We’ll be back.”
I returned to the Chamber and went straight to the conference room. I heard typing before I reached the door. Fast typing.
Then Waverly’s voice. “Note to self: Driftwood Pointe has three potential murder locations, four excellent suspects if one counts the mayor on principle, and one unusually judgmental cat.”
I stopped in the doorway and knocked on the open door.
Waverly sat at the table surrounded by papers, brochures, and maps, typing away. Mr. McFluffinstuff was on his back, belly in the air, with a clear view of the white spot on his stomach and one enormous black paw straight up in the air.
Spoiled little puke.
Waverly glanced up. “Welcome back.”
“Thank you.”
“He makes an excellent assistant.”
Mr. McFluffinstuff righted himself and meowed. Waverly scratched under his chin. He leaned into it shamelessly, then stepped forward and rubbed his head against her cheek.
“How was your Chamber business?” she asked.
“Productive.”
“Otherwise known as boring?” She grinned. “I’m learning your face.”
“That is unfortunate.”
“For you, maybe.” She began gathering her things. “Do you want to keep walking? I have notes and theories, but I could use a break.”
“I would like that,” I said.
Much to the disgust of Mr. McFluffinstuff, we left the Chamber a few minutes later.
Late afternoon was softening Driftwood Pointe, blurring the edges of rooftops and lampposts.
We walked the length of the town and wandered through the graveyard as she took notes and photographs, narrating quietly to Gerald the whole while.
“I’m ready for that drink you mentioned,” Waverly said, when we’d made one final pass through the cemetery to make sure she hadn’t missed anything.
“As you wish. Our next stop is the Hex & Hearth.”