Page 33 of Crown of the Fae King

“For your coff—” Everly didn’t bother finishing, since he poured it all down in one gulp. She rolled her eyes and turned her shoulder, like she was pretending they weren’t together. He grinned behind her back and I laughed. He sent me a wink that made the chocolate in my pastry melt onto my hand.

When we were left to ourselves again, Wickham nudged Persi. “What did ye learn?”

Her eyes popped. “Now?”

“Now. We’ve never arrived so soon after the fact. I have to believe it will make a difference.”

They’d done this before, then—rushed to a murder scene, hoping to catch evil fairies in the act. I didn’t dare ask if they’d ever been successful. Sitting there with a belly full of nerves, I really didn’t want to know. At least, not until I had something thick and fluffy to fill the rest of the empty space in my gut.

Something like Jericho’s pancakes.

Persi eyed her egg cup and slid it away from her, then took a quick bite of croissant. “Don’t blame me if your appetites are ruined.”

Kitch pointed to the disappointing charcuterie tray. “Too late.”

“Fine,” she said. “One was sliced and mangled like what happened in Oxford. Some furniture overturned, so there wasn’t much of a fight. The other…was different. The body was the color of…of this.” She held up a piece of thinly sliced turkey. “Coroner thinks she’s been drained of blood, or at least I think that’s what he said. My French is much better than my Italian.”

“Drained of blood.” Wickham nodded. “What else? Wounds?”

“Yeah.” Persi looked a little green, but it didn’t keep her from tucking turkey into the center of her bread. “Two holes in her thigh. Big holes.” She held up her ring finger and wiggled it. “Diameter of my finger, maybe.” She stared at the pale meat sticking out of the croissant, but eventually took a big bite.

She and I stared at each other over the table while she chewed. I looked down at my plate, stabbed my own slice of turkey, then examined it for a few seconds. When I put it in my mouth without puking, I was pretty proud of myself. Even more so when a few of my new friends applauded. I didn’t know they’d been watching.

The cherry on top was that look from Wickham—relief, pride. I felt like I’d impressed my big brother yet again, though I’d never had a brother.

I was suddenly embarrassed to find myself eating up attention like a needy child, scarfing up every morsel like that last breakfast I’d eaten at Twila’s. Like I was starving for it.

Pathetic.

I ate while Everly reported on the puddle of blood we’d seen. Then we heard the rest of what Persi had learned—apparently, while playing her invisible woman routine. She had to translate a few words on her phone, but the rest was pretty simple. The milkman had found the drained woman lying halfway out her doorway. The bloody one had been inside. Massive footprints in the blood. The police thought someone left them as a taunt. If real, the murderer would have to be close to eight feet tall, so they dismissed it.

A nervous laugh escaped me, and I laughed harder to cover it up. “Someone’s going to have to draw me a picture. Eight feet tall with claws?”

We sat and smiled in silence while the waiters came out to drag our plates away. It took a few minutes and the same small army. Then the coffee man returned. The fact that his pots were only half full was a message I didn’t know if the others understood.

When he was gone, Kitchens tossed a paper napkin across the table. It landed in front of me, and he nodded. When I turned it over, the monster he’d drawn was much worse than my imagination had produced.

Fangs. Claws. Muscles. And a face not even close to human. I only hoped his skills as an artist sucked.

Wickham snatched it out of my hand, drank in the image, then pulled out a lighter to set the napkin on fire. “We know what this one looks like. But what killed the other woman?” He pulled up his sleeve and laid his forearm in front of Persi. “How far apart?”

She pointed to two spots on his skin with about three inches between them.

He shook his head. “Not the same creatures. We’re hunting something new, then.” He dug in his pocket and pulled out a wallet, then a credit card. “It bothers me that it bit her leg. Are we dealing with a snake?”

“Whoa! Okay!” I jumped to my feet and turned to push my chair back while I searched under the table. Everyone else jumped up too, but they didn’t seem too concerned about snakes. They were just on guard, ready to fight. I held my hands up. “I’m okay. I’m okay,” until they relaxed. None of us sat down again.

A waiter rushed out like he was worried we’d take off without paying. Wickham waved his credit card and we all stood around while the man ran it through his handheld machine. When none of the others tried to pay their share, I felt better about being a kept woman.

Everly came around and wrapped her hand around my arm. “While you all poke around for a while, Lennon and I have some serious shopping to do.” She looked pointedly at Wickham. “You let her buy underwear at Brand Max?” She clicked the front of her tongue, then turned me toward the street.

“Inconspicuous if ye please,” Wickham called after us. “Meet in the alley at one, local.”

Everly glanced back. “We’ll try. Urban, darling, don’t let him leave without us.”

14

Tomato Sauce Sandwiches

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