CHAPTER ELEVEN
It’s been three days since my kidnapping and the ghostly near-Chernobyl event. Most of that time has been spent with Asher and a bunch of blankets and pillows, picnicking inside the circle of the standing stones underneath the thermal umbrella of propane heaters. We’ve lounged, all bundled and cozy, reading books and trying to learn as much as we can as quickly as possible.
Whatever feral cat Laurel and her minions tortured out of the bag, Sebastian and the magic of my ancestral stones seem to have contained, or at the very least dissipated enough that I’m not staffing a remake of The Walking Dead.
The brass bell above the door jangles to announce my arrival at Biscuits & Banter. Known for warm southern biscuits, strong coffee, and lively conversation, the roots of this diner in Emberwood run almost as deep as mine.
“Thanks for coming, Poppy,” Tanner calls from behind the opening of the serving window. “Stow your stuff in one of the cubbies back here and claim an apron.”
I hurry across the black and white checkerboard tiles, and push through the swing door. “Sorry to cut it close.”
I know I’m doing him a last-minute favor, but not arriving sooner means he’s likely been worrying about how to cover the afternoon rush if I didn’t show up.
That would never happen, but he doesn’t know me yet.
Agreeing to pick up shifts here is more than a bit of pocket money while Vale sorts through legal stuff. It’s a much-needed distraction. It’s a chance to do busywork and reclaim some control.
Biscuits is part of my family’s past. From the rich aroma of coffee and fried foods to the cast of local characters who come here, this diner is the pulse of Emberwood.
My gran worked here as a teenager.
My mom did, too.
And now, so do I.
Tying the apron across my hips as I jog back to the dining room, I get straight to work. The past five years of needing to survive while having no ID meant I only ever worked as a laborer under the table. It wasn’t a glamorous life, but I’ve gathered a ton of adaptation skills.
And I’ve worked every aspect of restaurants, coffee shops, and bars.
“Hey, Poppy girl!” Marty beams at me from behind the counter. His apron is splattered with various sauces, but he wears it like a badge of honor. “How are you feeling, hon? Asher mentioned you hit a bit of a rough spell?”
That’s the understatement of the century.“Much better. Asher took good care of me, and I’m ready to take on the world once more.”
“As if there were any doubt. That boy’s devotion to you is the stuff of legend.”
It is. I wave to my bestie as he walks past the glass wall and looks in to check that I’m good. I told him he didn’t have to walkwith me, but after the coven kidnapping and watching the ugly aftermath, there’s no convincing him otherwise.
“Is he coming in?” Marty asks.
“He’s got some errands. He’ll be back to walk me home later.”
“He’s a keeper, that one.” Tanner grabs a red plastic cup and fills it with ice and orange soda before heading back into the kitchen. “Hey, do you two want to come to dinner this weekend? It’ll probably be the last time we’ll be able to grill and sit out on the back deck this year.”
“That sounds awesome. Yeah, we’d love to. Thanks.”
Marty pulls a fresh pecan pie from the cooler to set in the dessert display cabinet. “Excellent. So, are you ready to make magic happen?”
I flash him an adoring smile. “Bring it on.”
Tanner taps the bell to collect an order, and I grab the plate of blueberry pancakes with whipped cream and a side of pork belly.
Marty moves to intercept me with a conspiratorial grin. He tilts his head toward an elderly lady with silver hair pulled into a tight bun. The hairdo accentuates her high cheekbones and her hawklike gaze. She’s dressed to the nines with glamorous oversized sunglasses and a large travel purse.
I recognize her immediately.
“That’s Miss Edna Lou Beauregard, Emberwood’s town gossip. Treat her with respect, or everyone in town will knowyourbusiness, you get me?”
I nod.
