Page 31 of A Touch of Brimstone

“You really need a more interesting kink because the no-sugar no-cream thing is weird. And not in the quirky way that people find adorable. It’s just weird.” I wasn’t fooled by what drew her interest to Anand. If he poured out half his coffee and filled it with cream and added tablespoons of sugar until he was having a little coffee with his sugar and cream, her interest wouldn’t have dwindled. Reluctantly pulling her eyes from him, she reached over the counter and nudged me playfully.

“What question from Cameron brings you to my little hub?”

“What makes you think I’m here on her behalf?” I asked.

Anand’s migration to a seat in the corner tugged at Emoni’s attention before it moved to the door that separated the coffee shop from the bookstore. Cameron had passed by, giving us a tight, overly wide smile and an odd finger wave.

“I feel like I’m Batman and she’s devising a plan to destroy me and Gotham City,” Emoni noted, waving at Cameron, who attempted to busy herself with the display, failing miserably at discreetly watching us.

“Reese cancelled this Thursday and you know how important Wine-Down Thursdays are to her.”

“And it’s great for business, too.”

“That too,” I admitted “She wants to know if you could fill in for him.”

“Of course I’ll do it. Maybe Gus will join me.”

“Maybe? You wouldn’t completely get the invitation out before he agreed. And you can stop with the eyerolls. I’m not wrong.” I wasn’t, despite Emoni wanting me to be. He loved performing as much as Emoni did, and the extra time with her would be a bonus for him.

To put Cameron out of her misery and ease the tight Joker smile, I nodded. She noticeably relaxed. We knew how important the store was to her; over the years it had its struggles and there was a period when it was at risk of closing down. With the addition of the coffee shop, events, and introduction of the wine bar, she’d saved the business. I chatted with Emoni a while longer, hoping Reginald would reply to the text I’d sent him earlier, so I could stop by his office before returning to work. He hadn’t responded.

Suspecting that he might have missed the message, I went by his office. The door was closed and I heard voices, which was probably why I hadn’t heard from him.

When I returned to the store, Anand was seated in the corner that Peter usually claimed. It earned him a glare from Peter when he arrived. Anand dismissed Peter’s overtly dirty look and passive-aggressive attempts to crowd him out as they shared the table. Peter covered the table with too many books and slouched in his chair, swallowing up the space underneath the table with his long legs. I passed the table several times, finding Peter making attempts to “history” Anand away. They were having spirited debates, and Anand’s detailed knowledge made his contributions sound like firsthand accounts. It was a slow day and I found entertainment in the simplicity of Peter’s pettiness. It was rather humanizing. He was territorial, irrational, and trivial—like us average joes. Peter finally gave up, shooting Anand a searing look before he found another spot at the back of the store.

“I feel like I should bring you a cookie or something. Give you the title of Dethroner of the King of the Round Table,” I said.

Anand was kind enough to reward my bad joke with a halfhearted smile. After Anand relinquished his claim on the table, I spent the remainder of my day playing my version of Where’s Waldo with him.

10

Reginald had free time at three thirty. I’d given up on keeping up with Anand’s whereabouts, and when he allowed himself to be discovered, I told him about the meeting, ignoring his frown of disapproval.

Although pessimistic that Reginald and his coven could help, I found some comfort in having a companion in this adventure we were unwillingly thrust into. I was pleased to be able to speak with him, even if for no other reason than to vent. How much do I tell him? Everything? Do I go full-throttle? Will he even believe me? I was living it yet several times I found myself waiting to wake from this magical realism.

Reginald’s hollow look of confusion surprised and unsettled me when I suggested he speak to his coven about what had happened with the book.

“I told you about my coven?” His brows inched together in disbelief. Leaning back in his chair, he looked even more perplexed as I recounted his visit to my apartment after the book debacle.

Concern shrouded his face at my agitation as I repeated the scenario over and over. If he’d had a panic button to press to have me escorted out, he definitely would have used it. It wasn’t agitation, it was desolation as panic rose in me. How could he not remember?

“Look at your phone. You have pictures, and I sent you a video.” I strained to keep my voice level but failed. Raw panic was in the driver’s seat. Standing, I leaned into him. Based on him going wide-eyed and rearing back, I must have looked feral. The semblance of calm and control I manufactured as I sat down was hard earned.

“Will you please look?” I asked softly.

“Okay.” His smile pensive and wary, he fumbled to get his phone from the corner of the desk while keeping a cautious eye on me. Once in his hand, he split his attention between me and the screen as he scrolled. After several minutes, it was apparent he was reluctant to tell me what I already knew. There weren’t any pictures. No video. I knew showing him the markings on my finger wouldn’t have proven anything other than I now had a tattoo to match my ring. But I had to try.

“Remember the ring? Look at it now.”

He looked at it and then at me with concerned eyes. “I told you before, I love it. I still can’t believe you found it in the alley. It’s so detailed, eclectic. Definitely handmade.”

The alley. Where Dominic told me he could manipulate memories. Was this Dominic’s handiwork or the vampire’s? Reginald was seeing the ring as it had been and not with the magic drained from it.

I rubbed my hands over my face and forced a smile when I removed them. “Not enough sleep,” I lied.

“I get it. When I don’t get enough sleep, I’m in a fugue state. Reality and dreams mesh together. Sleep’s important for a reason.” His smile was grim and his voice taut and reticent. “I once had an argument with my sister over something that happened in a dream. It felt real. Make sure you get some sleep tonight, okay?”

I nodded, fighting without success to ward off the abysmal feeling. For ten minutes we continued with our BS-fest, my trying to deescalate the situation and Reginald continuing to search for remnants of sane Luna. After we made our way through the tension-heavy conversation, there was a vestige of a smile fanning over his lips. Forced and fake, but considering the circumstances, it was all I was going to get.

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