Page 104 of Delinquents Turned Fugitives
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Eventually,it was time to let go of the ghosts from Gray’s past and deal with the damned poltergeists of the present. At nine, I pulled Malcolm’s nose out of his ghost notebook and said, “Come on. I’ll drive. I don’t want to be late to meet Lysa.”
We left Evan and Gray at Joyland so they could guard the sleeping vampires and get together our supplies for the break in.
We dropped Andros and Zavier off about twenty minutes away from Matthew’s institute, so they could head over there and perform recon one last time. As they climbed out of the car, Z pulled on some ridiculous fake Rastafarian hat with dreadlocks as his “disguise.” Andros had magically hidden his tattoos with some quick spell writing, but he was going out to spy without a shirt, a tactic I had tried to dissuade him from. His response had been, “Trust me, you think girls are the only ones who can’t get people to look them in the eyes? Nobody’s gonna look at my face.”
And though that thought fired up the jealousy monster inside of me, I hadn’t been able to argue with it.
I turned in my seat to wish them good luck as they walked the last few blocks.
Z blew me a kiss and then said, in a ridiculously awful Bob Marley impression, “Alright Jolly, you old elf, man, let’s see if you can sneak down the chimney. If you can, you’ll get a cookie.”
Andros merely rolled his eyes as they walked off, ignoring Z’s antics.
Then Malcolm and I drove over to a quaint little coffee shop on the far side of Hidden City, not too far from the cemetery. Before we got out, I tossed on a little black lipstick, some long fake eyelashes, and a spiked collar. Since most of my wardrobe consisted of all black anyway, the disguise was easy enough. And if we ran into any pinheads, it wasn’t magical, so it wasn’t something they could unravel.
While I fixed myself up, Malcolm just tossed on some aviators, mussed his hair, and unbuttoned the top two buttons of his shirt.
“You don’t even look different,” I told him.
“Are you joking? My hair is horrible,” he said.
I shook my head and pulled out a Halloween mole. It was one of those huge ones that were meant for witch’s noses. It had a little hair popping out of it and everything. I grabbed the little glue packet.
“No,” Malcolm held out a hand.
“Yes,” I insisted.
Malcolm glared at me, but I didn’t give a shit. I slapped that mole right onto his chin. “There, now no one will be able to look you in the eye.”
“I’m pissed at you right now,” he said.
“We can spank that anger out later,” I told him, climbing out of the car.
“I’m the one who’s gonna do the spanking,” he commanded, as he hurried to catch up with me.
“We’ll see,” I said with a grin.
The little red brick facade is cutesy and the store’s sign “Cuppa” is painted in a girly, curlicue font.
When we walked through the door and the bell tinkled overhead; Lysa turned and smiled at us immediately. She was already at the front of the line, her biker chick look, and bright rainbow hair contrasting with most of the suburban housewives who clearly stopped by for a quick dose of caffeine and gossip after they dropped off their hellions. One huge woman drank coffee by herself at a table by the window. She wore workout clothes like the other moms, but I could see the outline of a wand tucked into her waistband. So she was a magical. And she was likely either law enforcement, who had to carry a wand at all times—in which case we needed to hightail it now—or she was here with Lysa. Though she should have known better, her eyes flicked to me and then Lysa, telling me everything I needed to know.
I relaxed my shoulders and led Malcolm over to the biker girl who supposedly knew about ghosts.
“Hey!” Lysa spotted us and waved us over to the pastry display. “I’m trying to decide between a rosemary scone and a bran muffin soaked in butter and cinnamon sugar.” She gave Malcolm’s mole a second glance before she hid her laughter behind her hand.
He glared at me. But I was right. The women in the shop all started to eye him appreciatively until they saw the mole and then their eyes didn’t wander back.
The adorably plump older woman behind the counter walked over to Lysa, who asked which of the pastries were better. “Take both, sweetie. You could stand to put on some weight,” the baker said. She had a sweet grandmother vibe to her.
Lysa laughed but agreed.
Once Malcolm and I ordered coffee and he tossed on an egg and spinach quiche, we paid and then found a table outside on the patio, which was thankfully empty. If we weren’t there to discuss life and afterlife matters, it might have been one of the most peaceful mornings I’d had in a long time. But I wasn’t lucky enough to get peaceful mornings yet.
Soon,I promised myself.
We ate and kept to small talk for a little bit, easing into the discussion, because other than Grayson vouching for her, I didn’t know much about Lysa.
