He smiled. “Deal.”
18
EIGHTEEN
Gertie Morton said whatever came to her mind and had no problem putting the members of Galen’s group in their places. Her diner was frequented by locals because the food was so good. It was also off the beaten track, so we could talk openly without worrying about tourists eavesdropping.
“There’s my favorite girl.” Gertie gave Aurora a long once over. “Did you change your moisturizer? Your skin looks really good.”
Gertie had settled on Aurora as her favorite member of the clique. I assumed it was because Aurora was never singled out in a group of gregarious personalities and Gertie felt she needed the attention. I was also grappling with the notion that maybe — just maybe — Gertie did it to bring Galen and Booker down a peg or two. As for Lilac, she was used to people liking her, so not being Gertie’s favorite had become something of a personal challenge.
I found the whole thing hilarious. Lilac didn’t find it funny in the least.
“How does my skin look?” Lilac demanded. “Do I look like I discovered a new moisturizer?”
Gertie blinked, her face impassive. “No,” she replied before glancing over at me. “And you look as if you haven’t been sleeping.”
I’d learned not to take Gertie’s comments personally. She didn’t mean them as insults — well, mostly — but arguing with her about any of it was a complete waste of time. “Sorry.”
“I don’t need an apology,” Gertie replied. “I need to know why you’re not sleeping.” Her gaze immediately went to Galen. “Are you being a pervert?”
Rather than be offended, Galen laughed. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.” He pressed a kiss to Gertie’s cheek before leading me to a booth to get settled. “I haven’t been too perverted this week.”
Gertie looked to me for confirmation. “He hasn’t,” I confirmed. “There was a blue tongue thing last night. I was just as perverted as him.”
Gertie smirked. “Well, if he’s not being a pervert, why do you look as if you’ve been run over by a golf cart three times in quick succession?”
“I didn’t sleep well.” I slumped in the booth seat next to Galen. “I’ll perk up after some coffee.”
“I thought you found Wesley,” Lilac said. “Shouldn’t you have slept like the dead?”
“One would think,” I replied dully.
“She had a nightmare,” Galen volunteered.
“A dream,” I clarified.
“A nightmare,” he overruled, sending me a severe look. “I think Declan is trying to contact her in her dreams.”
“Declan?” Gertie was no longer messing around. “Declan Wilkes?”
Galen arched an eyebrow. “Did you know him?”
“Unfortunately. He was a bad man.”
“He wasn’t a man at all,” I said.
Gertie scowled. “He was a bad warlock.”
She was a psychic, but apparently she didn’t know everything. “He was more than that.”
Gertie adopted a quizzical expression. “I don’t follow.”
“It turns out Declan Wilkes was more than any of us realized,” Galen explained. “Hadley was in his house yesterday.”
Aurora bobbed her head. “Lilac told us the story. Hadley saw a mural with her mother’s face in the house. She learned Declan was a dhampir. We’re all caught up.”
“Gertie’s not,” Galen countered. He sent Aurora an exasperated look. “I want to talk to her as much as I want to talk to anybody.”
