Page 32 of Wicche Hunt

I nodded and smiled. “Yeah, I was told people often just referred to me asThe Hair.”

Her brow furrowed. “Really?” She shook her head and lowered her voice. “There are creeps everywhere and at some point, they attend high school.”

Laughing, I said, “True. And middle school.”

She rolled her eyes. “Middle school was the worst.”

A group walked in the front door.

The hostess said, “I have your name on the list, but it’ll probably be twenty to thirty minutes. Is that okay?”

I nodded but Declan didn’t look happy.

“What’s your name?” I asked.

“Beatrice,” she said.

“Good meeting you, Beatrice. We’ll wait outside.”

She nodded. “I’ll come get you when we have a table ready.”

The benches outside the door were taken. As Declan had nabbed a parking spot one car down, we opted to sit in his truck, windows rolled down. I pulled a chocolate peanut butter protein bar out and handed it over.

Sighing, he took it. “I hate these things.”

“Everybody hates them, but sometimes you’ve got to eat.”

Nodding, he bit into it and paused, a disgusted look on his face. Then he stuffed the whole thing in and ate it quickly. Grabbing his water bottle, he washed the taste out of his mouth and then looked at me accusingly. “Why don’t you carry around muffins or cookies? You bake constantly. Where does it all go?”

“Well, I have some raccoon siblings that have recently been added to the payroll.”

Eyebrows raised, he waited.

“At first, it was just Otis. He liked watching me paint the mural while he played with my brushes. He sniffed the muffin I had in my basket, so I gave it to him.”

“That was your first mistake.”

I shrugged. “I don’t mind classing up his usual meals. Anyway, the next day there were two more little raccoon babies with him, staring down at me from the skylight.”

Declan grinned and shook his head. “You’re going to have his entire family sitting on your doorstep.”

I thought about it. “There are worse things.”

“Okay. Besides the raccoons, where does it go?” He glanced over when Beatrice stepped out, but she waved to the couple sitting on the bench.

“There’s also a new werewolf in the neighborhood who eats a lot.”

Patting his flat stomach, he said, “True.” His attention, though, was on all the people waiting for a table.

“We can go somewhere else,” I suggested.

“Hmm?” He turned to me. “No. It’s not that. I’m smelling something strange. They probably have the back door of the kitchen open. That smell is great. There’s another one underneath it. It’s like decomposition but not quite.” He glanced up at the trees around us. “There could be a dead squirrel in that tree, but I don’t think that’s it.”

I scanned the people too. “Zombies?”

“Bite your tongue,” he said, stepping out of the truck.

“That’s a zombie’s job.” Looking over my shoulder, I watched Declan search the bed of his truck and then open the top of his tool chest before rearing back.

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