It was a different game with every client and this was Salty Miller’s favoured play. He loved drinking but hated doing it alone; he’d happily use and abuse any opportunity he could get to drag others into his boozy orbit. Mallory steeled her stomach and crossed her fingers that she could steer him to the topic of bellarmine jugs by the time she’d finished her beer. She could at least hope.
Chapter
Nine
It took two more beers and four shots of whisky before Salty was prepared to talk shop. Mallory had picked up her glass and was gazing at the amber liquid inside it when the druid cleared his throat and gave her a pointed look. She returned it with a burble of relief. She enjoyed his company and – if she were honest – the drinks, but at this rate she wouldn’t be able to walk home in a straight line.
‘I’m ready to talk business now,’ he declared. ‘What is it you want?’
Mallory lowered her glass to the table and focused her tipsy eyes on him. ‘I need a bellarmine jug,’ she said, glad that she wasn’t slurring her words.
Salty’s expression didn’t change. ‘I take it you mean a real bellarmine jug, not a knock-off version that we sell to tourists.’
‘Naturally.’
‘A real bellarmine jug designed to transport delicate materials that cannot be exposed to an unmagicked atmosphere for more than a few minutes at a time?’
‘Yep.’
‘An undamaged bellarmine jug?’
‘Yep.’
‘With a sealed, warded stopper?’
‘Yep.’
‘How long do you need it for? Is this a permanent acquisition?’
Mallory felt a surge of hope; by the sounds of it, Salty had one or he knew where she could get one. She shook her head. ‘No. I only need it until the end of August then it will be returned in the same condition.’
‘I see.’ He tapped his mouth thoughtfully.
‘Salty…’
He gave her a wry, almost sad smile. ‘Sorry, Mal.’
Her heart dropped. ‘Come on, Salty.’
‘I really can’t help you. I only know one person with a bellarmine jug and it’s already in use. They won’t be persuaded to hand it over even for a short period.’
She pushed away her glass, annoyed with herself as much as him. If she hadn’t had so much to drink, she’d have realised he was stringing her along. This entire evening had been a waste of time.
Salty understood her expression. ‘You must have known it was a long shot. Hardly anyone has an empty bellarmine jug these days – not ones that work. There’s a chance that some of the renegade covens that choose to live away from Coldstream have one buried away, but they’re unlikely to talk to either me or you. Unfortunately, there’s nothing I can do and nobody I know who can help.’
‘If you’d let me ask you when I first got here then…’
‘Then I’d have been denied the pleasure of your company.’ He grinned. ‘C’mon. You’ve enjoyed yourself too.’
Mallory grumbled under her breath.
‘How about another drink to soften the blow?’
‘No. I’m going to head home.’
‘It’s the full moon, Mal. It’s not safe.’
She glanced at her watch: a quarter to eleven. The streets would be cock-a-hoop with werewolves, but she had wolfsbane in her pockets and she’d be home in ten minutes if she hurried. She was dimly aware that the alcohol in her system was making her over-confident but she wasn’t the innocent she’d been when she first arrived in Coldstream. She knew how to handle werewolves now. She was far, far more experienced. ‘I can look after myself.’
