He nodded, satisfied with my words despite the—to me—glaringly obvious hesitation, and let himself out. I exhaled slowly and sank back down into the seat by the desk. There was absolutely no universe in which I was asking Luther for anything. Not sugar. Not nails. Not air.
By the time I finished sorting the paperwork, my brain was mush. After a quick shower, I changed into my pajamas, brushed my teeth, and emerged from the tiny bathroom, towel-drying my hair. That was when I felt it: the prickling sensation of being watched. Again.
I froze, listening. The old house creaked in the settling way old houses do, but the feeling clung stubbornly to the back of my neck. Someone was watching me, I was certain of it. I moved to the window and peered out. Outside, the evening light had dimmed into a soft lavender haze over Main Street. A small handful of porch lights flickered on, and fireflies danced lazily across the yard. And then, a flutter.
A small shape zipped away from the eaves of the B&B, wings beating rapidly. A bat. Not unusual, except… was that a red vest? And a gold glint around its tiny neck? I blinked hard and pressed my forehead against the glass, squinting to bring the shape back into focus. Nothing. Only the dimming sky and the sleepy town settling in for the night. I stepped back, rubbing my arms.
“Okay,” I whispered to myself. “Time to sleep. No more imagining fashion-forward bats.” But as I slipped under the quilt and turned off the lamp, I couldn’t shake the feeling that Hillcrest Hollow was watching me with far more than just small-town curiosity. Some of those eyes, one pair in particular, were very much awake.
Chapter 5
Luther
I stalked out of the library before either woman could say another word, too abruptly, perhaps, but if I stayed another second listening to Jade Whitaker’s confident, bright, and oh-so infuriating voice, I might have forgotten myself entirely and said something unforgivable. Or worse, something true. Like how incredibly competent she clearly was, and how sweetly passionate she sounded. I couldn’t recall that kind of passion; hadn’t felt it in ages.
My boots hit the lush grass that had spread all through the alley with clipped precision, and by the time I reached the back stairs of the General Store, my jaw ached from clenching. I had veal waiting, a beautifully marbled cut, and hours of anticipation. It should have soothed me, but when I stepped back into my apartment, the kitchen felt smaller, stuffier, and altogether less inviting.
You left in a hurry,Belfry observed from his hanging perch on the wine rack. His red silk vest glittered in the setting sun.Did the human frighten you? Or was it her eyes? No, wait, her hair. Humans get very dramatic when they have hair.That was an utterly ridiculous statement, but that was on par for my bat companion. Hair made humans dramatic? What about him? He was covered in the stuff, a thick, fine pelt of it. Huh. Perhaps he had a point. Belfry certainly had a flair for the dramatic.
I hung my jacket with more force than necessary, then started loosening my tie and unbuttoning my vest. It might prevent mefrom going out tonight when the temptation would be greatest. “It was none of those things,” I said to Belfry as I carefully smoothed my vest over a coat hanger, my back turned to his prying eyes.
Mm-hm.Belfry swung upside down so his little gold chain dangled; I could hear the way the small chains tinkled together.Tell me what she said,he prodded. The little gossip had probably been as close to daylight and the open window as he’d dared to eavesdrop on my interaction with the snooping librarian.
“Nothing of note,” I said eventually. Nothing of note? That was a joke. She had said so many infuriating, tempting, lovely things with that dulcet voice of hers. I wanted to hear more, hadn’t had nearly enough. It was what Liz had said that had me more rattled than the woman had. You’ll have to work closely together. Work together, with her? That would be...far too nice.
Then tell me what she looked like. I want to judge her.Belfry sounded gleeful and a little evil as he said it, wings fluttering, his little vest rustling as he pulled on it with the hooks on his wings. If I told him anything, how quickly would he fly off to gossip about it with his familiar buddies? Would he go see Avis at Gregory’s workshop, or perhaps fly to Mr. Peters’s goats for a bleating chat? I glared at him. He waited, fluffy and smug; irritatingly patient.
“She was…” I began, then stopped myself. No, absolutely not. I would not give him ammunition. Anything I said, he’d use against me—and her—or worse. If he sensed my interest, I’d never hear the end of things. “…A nuisance,” I finished crisply.
Oh, yes,he drawled.A nuisance with fierce brown eyes that made you inhale like someone had punched you. A nuisance with a mouth that looked like it was sculpted specifically to argue with you.How the fuck did he know that? He must have done more than lean out the window, but it was very bold on his part to fly out in broad daylight. I ignored him and turned to my veal, but even the familiar actions of preparing one of my favorite meals were no comfort. And after all that trouble, it tasted like cardboard, and that had nothing to do with the fine cut of the meat.
After dinner—or what passed for dinner—I attempted to read. I tried a historical journal I’d been saving, then a novel I’d enjoyed centuries ago, and then a dictionary of Middle High German just to spite myself. It was utterly useless. My thoughts circled the same point like ravens around fresh prey: Jade Whitaker.
Her curiosity was bright as sparks.
Her temper, sharp and quick.
Her stubborn spine.
Her scent...
I shut the book with a snap, and a flutter of dust motes went up into the air, darting like sparks in the soft lamplight beside my favorite reading chair. This was ridiculous. She was a stranger, and a human, no less. That meant she was temporary, so very fleeting. Her huge brown eyes and her righteous anger didn’t feel fleeting, they felt powerful. I had been perfectly justified in questioning her motives and perfectly justified in addressing her trespassing. Perfectly justified...
You behaved like a heel,Belfry supplied helpfully from the back of my mind. I turned my head to locate him and discovered he was marching along the lines of jars on one of my shelves—correction, his shelf—the one with the jars of specialty dried insects he had me special-order for him for those days it rained and he did not feel like catching his own food. Couldn’t have his snappy vest or specially tailored jacket get wet.
“I did not ask for your opinion,” I told him succinctly. I rose from my chair slowly and smoothed invisible wrinkles from my slacks. Perhaps I would go down to the store to do inventory, that always bored me to tears. Perhaps I’d even manage to sleep a few hours after that.
I give it freely,he chirped.Like a gift.A jar chimed when he tapped a claw impatiently against it, and I went over to open it and tip a few dried grasshoppers onto a dish for him. He leaped down, wings spread, and landed gracefully on the table beside the bowl. As he dove in, I heard the crunch, moan, and swallow sounds as he eagerly devoured the treat.
“Then perhaps next time, keep it,” I warned him. I could do with a few fewer opinions, especially when it came to Jade Whitaker and the elegant arch of her neck and the stubborn angle of her chin. If only I could get that image out of my head, then perhaps I could actually have the peace and quiet I desired so much. That was why I lived here in the Hollow, even though that made hunting hard and tedious.
I can’t. It itches if I hold it in,Belfry complained. He tilted his furry head, ears twitching, and at once I got the impression he was toying with me the way he liked to toy with his food. Damnbat was using me for his evening entertainment, and for once, I was actually unsettled enough to fall right into it.
I rubbed my eyes and went to the window almost against my will. Across the street, Sweet Dreams Guaranteed glowed warm and golden, like a hearth in the dark. Behind the second-floor window—her window; I’d already ascertained that earlier this evening—soft lamplight flickered across the curtains.
I really shouldn’t look. I hadn’t meant to look, that’s what I told myself, yet I found myself watching anyway. She moved into view once, a shadow passing by the curtains, and my pulse thrummed with an ancient, unwelcome awareness. Belfry stretched his wings.Going out for a glide,he announced.Maybe pick up gossip. Maybe find a snack.As if he hadn’t just stuffed himself with dried grasshoppers.
“Fine,” I snapped, because I knew exactly what he was up to. Spying, snooping, and taking advantage of the darkness to go wherever he wanted. It was wrong of me, but I craved information on her so much that I wasn’t going to stand in his way. I should have, but I told myself that Belfry was a free agent; he would do what he wanted regardless of what I said.
