Page 37 of Holy Water
Cool.Noted.
Riverbend didn’t just lean into the whole crunchy mystic vibe.It bathed in it.Rolled around in it.Possibly had a threesome with it.And the worst part?
I didn’t hate it.
Not outwardly, anyway.I kept a neutral expression as I passed a boutique called Womb Wisdom, another called Tie-Dye and Try Not to Cry, and finally arrived at the squat brick building with its wrought-iron sign and small pride flag:The Chalice & Cherry.
The queerest, weirdest bar I’d ever been to—and I say that as someone who once did an investigative piece on a speakeasy that operated entirely out of a backroom hot yoga studio in Queens.
I pulled the door open and stepped inside.
Dim lights.Velvet drapes.Thrifted furniture that looked like it could’ve been stolen from a drag brunch or your grandma’s attic.The air smelled faintly of rose, smoke, and something spicy that might’ve been incense or just an ambitious cocktail.
The man who owned the place, I think his name was Percy, stood behind the bar in a black tank top that said I Put the Bi in Bitter.His expression did not say Welcome back, traveler.
“Hi,” I said, sliding onto a stool.“Miss me?”
He raised an eyebrow.“Like I miss chlamydia.”
Charming.
I took a breath.“I’ll have a Negroni, please.”
Percy made the drink, and he did it well—but with the cold efficiency of someone who wouldn’t piss on me if I were on fire.He set it down in front of me with a muted clink, then walked off without another word.
Okay.Rude.
I stared at the amber liquid, then took a cautious sip.Perfect balance.Strong enough to burn a little.
Which was exactly what I needed, because clearly I was the villain in a story no one had bothered to tell me about.
First that woman giving me the spiritual cold shoulder back at the inn, and now Percy acting like I’d pissed in his turmeric latte.Had I offended someone the last time I was here?Did I give off some kind of bad-vibes aura that only spiritual types could detect?
I took another sip of my drink, then leaned forward on my elbows, trying to scan my memory.I’d barely interacted with Percy the first time.Maybe made a sarcastic comment about the full moon cocktail menu, but that hardly warranted a full-scale vibe assassination.
As I debated whether to ask him, Percy walked by again and muttered under his breath, “If you mess with my friends, I’ll mess with you right back.”
I blinked.“Excuse me?”
He didn’t stop walking.Just rounded the far end of the bar like he was prepping for a round of cocktails and divine retribution.
Okay.Cool.Totally not menacing.
I sat back, glass halfway to my lips, frown deepening.What friends?Was he talking about…
The door opened.
And every thought I had scattered like birds at a gunshot.
Jude.
He stepped inside, and the room seemed to tighten around him.Like the air got thicker just from his presence.The late-day sunlight streamed in behind him, turning his already golden skin into something almost unreal.He wore a loose white shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows, simple jeans, boots that looked like they’d been worn through prayer circles and heartbreak.His hair was a little longer than I remembered, curling at the edges, and his eyes—those serious, searching, soulful eyes—swept over the room like a slow-moving wave.
Until they landed on me.
ChapterThirteen
Jude
