Page 29 of Oh No! There's an Incubus in my Hot Spring
I steel myself. “Well, that’s too bad. You’ve got it.”
“Don’t bother reading the rest of your emails. They all say the same thing.” He snaps my laptop shut.
Stab his hand with the fork! STAB HIM!
I jump up from my seat with pure fury humming in my veins. Crazy-girl is about two seconds from pouncing. Irene lingers in my peripheral vision with a plate of blueberry pancakes and a stricken expression.
Hold on for the pancakes, Sylvia. If you go to jail for stabbing him, there will be no pancakes.
“I didn’t invite you to sit with me. Leave,” I say, pointing him away from my table.
He stands with a haughty smile, smoothing out his Patagonia vest over a black turtleneck. “Be seeing you.”
“I hope not,” I say to his retreating form.
He glances over his shoulder with a sneer like he’s won.
Irene approaches the table. “You’re gonna go toe to toe with him then, huh?”
“If I must,” I say, taking my seat and moving my laptop over.
She sets the pancakes in front of me, and I salivate at the scent of fluffy batter, gooey berries, and hot butter melting off the side.
“There’ve been a few other people over the years trying to fix that place. I’ll warn you, he’s always run them out of town before they even have a chance.”
“If this is his best, I’ll be fine,” I say, picking up my napkin and ripping off the corner Mark used to wipe his stupid eyes.
Irene shakes her head. “He hasn’t even gotten started. Trust me. I was on the inside when he ruined the last guy who came to fix it up. He was staying at a hotel nearby, and…”
“And what?”
She sits across from me and leans in. “And he left in a body bag.”
“Jesus fucking Christ.”
Irene nods gravely. “The official story is that he slipped off the top deck of the springs and broke his neck, and I mean it’s possible—that place is haunted AF—but it smelled really fishy to a lot of us.”
My mind replays my meeting with Apollo. If I’d been standing at the edge of the railing, could I have fallen?
“What about the people before him?” I ask.
“Well, Mark’s mother was in charge before that, and she made damn sure to scare everyone off before they even had a chance to look at the place.”
“Cherry!” The bell at the cook window dings loudly three times in annoyance.
“Thanks for the info, friend. Also, how the hell does Mark keep finding me here?” I ask.
She stands with a shrug. “I wouldn’t put it past the guy to have cameras on every street corner. He’s obsessive about this town. Like it’shis.”
I grimace. “Perfect…”
“See ya later,” Irene says with a wave, then runs to collect the order.
I open my laptop and scroll through my emails. All of them are refusals to work with me.
Un-fucking-believable.
I cut into my blueberry pancake and swirl it in the syrupy reduction that’s been poured around the plate. The first bite I get the crispy edge and the sweet juice from the blueberries. It’s delicious, more than enough to make me want to stay in this town for a good stretch of time.
