Page 73 of Twice Bitten

Half an hour later, I wanted to cry. The thing looked like a toddler had gotten ahold of my chalk and gone to town on my floor.

Deeply unnerved, I scrubbed the circle away and put away both my chalk and my book. I printed out Tiegan’s ritual and tucked the copy into the desk drawer. My brain was working overtime as I tried to figure out why I was so adept at that particular circle and not the ones I’d been drawing all my life.

I had no angelic or demonic texts to flip through to find the answers I needed as to why I could draw those so easily, and those kind of books weren’t exactly easy to find for a normal witch. But I wasn’t normal. Not exactly.

I pulled my laptop over and messaged Cat, the woman who handled my couriers for the apothecary. We weren’t friends—hell, we were barely acquaintances—but Cat knew the dark side of the web probably better than I did. She’d know where to start.

I was just about to shut everything down when a message came through from Cat.

She’d attached a link in the email and told me exactly what to offer for the books I needed, cautioning me to use a fake name and address. She provided a P.O. box about ten miles away and told me to use the name Simian Niles.

Then she did something I never expected. She asked me to get lunch with her.

My fingers hovered over the keys as I thought of a response, but I couldn’t bring myself to type a message back to her. Telling her no outright seemed rude, especially given what she’d just helped me with, but no was always my initial kneejerk response.

Maybe I should try something else.

Maybe I should open the door just a crack and see what was out there.

I’d love to get a late lunch sometime. How about Saturday?

I hit send and closed my laptop, my heart pounding against my ribs. Gods, why was I so weird about shit like this? It was lunch. We weren’t suddenly going to be besties who braided each other’s hair.

I’d just blown out the kerosene lamps when my phone dinged.

Cat had responded. With shaking fingers, I opened the message.

I’m in! Two p.m. at Strikers?

Good choice for lunch. Strikers had the best burgers in town and catered to the supernatural population. Their milkshakes were to die for, and it was also located in a busy spot downtown. Even Beckett wouldn’t dare strike there.

If I were going to meet my silent partner, Strikers was the perfect choice.

I sent her back a quick note telling her I’d be there, then turned out the lights in the basement and trudged upstairs.

But as I shut the door behind me, I realized I wasn’t nervous so much as filled with anticipation.

I’d done something completely out of the norm, and I was looking forward to lunch. Cat and I didn’t know much abouteach other, but I’d always admired her knowledge and how smoothly she helped me handle the shipping portion of my apothecary.

We’d met online and had hit it off right away, but neither of us was too willing to share much information about ourselves. Why would we when were both involved in illegal magic? We both had the opportunity to get the other into a shitload of trouble, Cat more so than me because she had my actual home address, whereas she was a random and ever-changing IP number, almost impossible to pin down.

But she hadn’t given me up. And wasn’t that a beautiful way to start a new friendship?

TWENTY-TWO

A few happily uneventful days later, I walked up to the restaurant for our lunch date. Strikers was decorated in old-school memorabilia—autographed photos, vinyl records, antique hubcaps, and bits and bots of retro scattered everywhere. Music from the 60s and 70s blared from speakers both indoors and out. People hustled and bustled outside, busy in their run-of-the-mill, daily lives and not paying much attention to anything going on around them.

Tiny fairies zipped through the air, weaving through the air currents like glittering dragonflies.

I scanned the area, keeping an eye out for Beckett or Leo, but there was no sign of either vamp. Silas hadn’t come back or tried to contact me, and I hoped he was better at social cues than the vampires and got the hint.

Cat had sent me her phone number in a follow-up message, so I sent her a text to tell her I’d arrived.

Brown hair. Glasses. Table to the left after you pass the hostess stand.

I schooled my face into neutral disinterest and went inside. A quick smile as I passed by the hostess, and then there she was.

Cat stood up when she spotted me, a small smile on her face. She was shorter and curvier than me, with a mass of light brown hair piled atop her head in a messy bun. She wore a pair of wide-legged ankle jeans and a beige tank top with a duster-length blue cardigan. Her glasses were leopard print and framed sparkling blue eyes. Cat had a heart-shaped face with high cheekbones and full lips.