I shook my head and a small laugh bubbled out. "How well do you all know this guy, because you’re making me pretty nervous?”
Carol shrugged. "We know him, and knowofhim, well enough.”
Just a minute later, a man took a seat across from us. He had long black hair and dark eyes. Eyes that held anger, maybe even hatred, and the feeling radiated from his large, muscular body. This looked like a man capable of doing bad things. Whether he actually did them or not, I wasn’t sure.
"You requested me, and here I am,” he said, with no trace of humor.
Broth Riversteel set down a tumbler half-filled with something amber. Something I was sure was strong liquor. A cigarette dangled casually from the corner of his mouth, the smokecurling up into the stale bar air. He leaned back against the booth, stretching one arm out so casually that if I couldn’t sense the tension in his body, I would’ve thought this was a meeting between friends.
"Yes,” Beth began, clearing her throat. "I’m Beth. This is Emma, Carol, and Deva.”
"What do you want?" His voice was gravelly, the words clipped and direct.
I exchanged a glance with Beth, her eyes flicking briefly to the cigarette in silent disapproval. We said nothing about it, though. Not our place, not our business. Even though technically smoking wasn’t allowed inside any building anywhere in Mystic Hollow. I doubted the police cared enough to enforce that law here.
Beth leaned forward, her hands clasped tightly in front of her. "I’m going to cut straight to the point because we know your time is valuable. We came to ask about the recent werewolf attacks," she said sharply, watching for his reaction.
The glass on the table rattled as Broth's hand came down like a gavel. His eyes narrowed into slits, and the smoke from his cigarette curled around his face like a wreath. "I might've had to tolerate the sheriff poking around in my business," he growled, the words seething through clenched teeth, "but I don't have to tolerate you lot."
Broth leaned over the table, his face inches from ours, eyes blazing. His nostrils flared as he drew in a breath, lips parting like he might unleash more than just harsh words.
"Listen here," he hissed, the scent of alcohol mingling with the smoke. "This is my establishment. My place of business. Noone comes in here asking me questions unless they want to disappear. Do you want to disappear? I can make it happen.”
"No,” I rushed out. "We don’t want that. We didn’t mean to insult you.”
"Too late,” he ground out, and his hand moved as if to reach for something in jacket pocket.
Suddenly, Carol's hand flicked forward, her fingers opening. A small pink object soared through the air and hit Broth square in the face. It burst upon impact, a cloud of shimmering powder enveloping his head. My jaw dropped open, and I stared, wondering what that possibly could’ve done to help our situation.
"Damn it, " Broth shook his head like a wet dog. Pink dust settled on his skin, clinging to his features, his cheeks now rosy, his nose sparkled, and his scowl highlighted by an unintended blush.
I stared in shock. He had dark lashes and bright purple eyeshadow. The full face of makeup took away his edge. It took everything in me not to start laughing.
"Witches! Of course!” He growled. "What did you do to me? If you think some curse is going to–”
"It’s makeup, Broth. Calm down or you'll look like a clown," Carol's voice was even, but her stance was ready for any move he made next.
"Makeup?” he asked in disbelief, but his movements stilled.
"Look at yourself." I nodded toward the mirror behind the booth.
He spun around, catching his reflection. "Shit!" His large hand snatched a napkin from the dispenser and furiously scrubbed at his face. The pink powder smeared across his cheeks, making him look even more ridiculous.
"I should’ve known better than to piss off witches. My mother hangs out with witches, and they’ve always got some kind of power, or some kind of potion, that suddenly has me minding my manners or helping my mother out with more chores,” he grumbled.
Deva shrugged. "You looked like you were going to hurt us. We weren’t left with another choice.”
He glared, mascara streaked down his face as he paused in his scrubbing. "I’m a man. I’d never hurt a woman. No matter how irritating one might be.”
That was good to know.
As he continued scrubbing, Beth drew herself up taller. "Truly, we’re just here with some questions. We don’t want any trouble.”
"All right, enough," he snapped, tossing the soiled napkin onto the table. His green eyes, no longer rimmed by makeup, met mine in the mirrored surface, crinkled with irritation. "You've got one minute. Make it quick."
My heart hammered, a frantic beat trying to break free. Carol clenched her jaw, eyes locked on Broth Riversteel, his face now clean of makeup but still shadowed with anger. This was our chance. We needed to ask the right questions, and quickly.
"Look, Broth," Beth continued, "we just need information about the werewolf attacks. That's all we're after."
