Page 98 of Fresh Old Bounties

“You seemed to be having a great time.”

“Next time, stop me.”

“You do this often? Go on drunken karaoke binges?” he asked, way too smoothly.

I dropped my forehead back on the table. “Nope.”

“Aww, shucks,” Alex said.

Ian sat kitty-corner to me and took another long drink of his coffee. “Celebrating something? Did you get good news?”

I gestured vaguely toward Alex’s phone. My awful, woeful singing still blasted out of the hellish thing. “Does that sound like good news?”

“Your affirmations didn’t help, I take it?”

“They conducted a brave attack but couldn’t take the hill,” I agreed, returning to my own coffee.

“Why?” Alex asked. “What’s wrong?”

“Everything.”

Shane rolled his one good eye. “Dude, the trap failed and the spellbook suspect got away.”

Alex’s face lit up with understanding. “Oh, right.”

I set down my coffee, and felt the now-familiar droop of my mouth take shape. “It’s not just that.”

“Can we help?” Shane asked.

“No. You’ve done enough.”

He and Key exchanged a fast look that told me either she’d fill him in later or she was reminding him she’d already partially explained about my current woes.

I rubbed my eyes, suddenly tired, and not because of my headache or the small exertion of magic. “We have no leads on Mystery Man, no idea why he would think Grandma had a spellbook dealing with dark magic. What if he hires another thief?” What if the rumors about the spellbook spread? What if Grandma became known as a dark witch? What if someone came around asking for her supposed alchemy secrets and outed me as another supposed dark witch when I couldn’t provide them?

My mood dipped with each word, each added thought, until I wanted to cry. Maybe that was what I needed—one good crying session to get it all out. Then my natural optimism would settle back in.

Fluffy came over and planted a paw on my leg, letting out a small whine. I reached down and sank my fingers into her soft coat, searching for that connection, that upbeat goodness…to no avail.

A nagging part of me told me that one crying session might not be enough. That this gray, gloomy weather was here to stay.

“I’ve been thinking about the Halloween cemetery tours,” Ian said.

My head snapped up. The strays froze. My discordant singing cut abruptly, and you could’ve heard a pin drop in the silence that ensued.

“You have?” I ventured, a tiny spark of excitement building up in my chest.

He shrugged. “It might not be a bad idea, after all.”

“Boss, are you sure?” Alex’s amused expression was slowly transforming into that of a child discovering his parents were full of it and Santa was real after all.

Ian stood, his expression stern. “One night. Nobody comes anywhere near the house or the Cavalier graves.” He narrowed his eyes. “And you organize everything. I want nothing to do with it. Understood?”

Alex whooped and did one of those manly high-fives-slash-shoulder-bumps with Shane. Key grinned widely, no doubt already planning how to redeem herself tour-wise. Fluffy barked happily, caught up in the sudden excitement. And me?

I looked at Ian with as much wonder as Alex had shown seconds ago.

“Really?” I asked, just to make sure.

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