“Weallshould have,” Zane added without his usual smart-assery.
“You couldn’t have known I’d react that way.” To my astonishment, Seri reached up and brushed her thumb across my cheekbone. “I didn’t know myself.”
Her forgiveness burned worse than blame would have. I caught her hand, pressing a kiss to her palm.
“I’ll do better,” I promised her and myself.
A heavy silence settled over us, thick with the ghosts of what we’d seen and what we hadn’t said. Then Zane clapped his hands together.
“Right. New plan for today. We’re not sitting around brooding like Cas on his birthday.”
“I don’t brood.” Casimir arched an eyebrow.
“Youabsolutelydo,” Zane countered. “But the point is, we need somethingfun.”
“I thought we were going to bathe Brummy?” Seri sat up, wiping her eyes on the backs of her hands until Cas waved them away and cleaned her face himself with a white handkerchief.
“Bathing Brummy isnotgoing to be fun,” I assured her, although Zane tried to argue that point. “What about a walk in the woods? There’s a path we found when we were placing the warded perimeter runestones the other night. It’s peaceful and quiet, and we only saw a small part of it.”
“Walking is mentally and emotionally relaxing,” Casimir nodded, warming to the plan. “Good idea, Ko.”
“With a picnic!” Zane added with a grin. “Food makes everything better!”
“I’d like that.” Seri took the hanky from Cas to blow her nose.
“Then I’ll talk to Mrs. Wentzel about lunch.” I squeezed her hand and stood.
For the first time since the video, she smiled. A small thing, but real and well worth tackling the dragon in the kitchen.
#
At seventy-two, with salt-and-pepper hair pulled into a tight bun and reading glasses perched on her nose, Mrs. Wentzel looked exactly like what she was: A chef who’d come out of retirement afteran exchange of favors with the vampire king. She also occasionally looked like she was regretting that decision.
“A picnic,” she repeated flatly when I explained our plan. “For lunch. Which I’ve already started preparing.”
“Sorry for the last-minute change, but Seri—”
“Had a panic attack,” she finished, her eyes softening. She might be prickly, but she wasn’t heartless. “I could hear her heart thundering from here.”
“The path through the north woods,” I said. “Do you know where it leads?”
“Of course I do. I’ve been at Evermere longer than you boys have been alive. It goes to a garden of native plants. Pretty spot, especially this time of year. Should all be in bloom by now.”
Her description settled something in my chest. A meadow full of wildflowers sounded like exactly what Seri needed. What weallneeded, really.
“Will it work for a picnic?” I asked.
“Well enough. Addison!” she called over her shoulder.
Her grandson appeared from the pantry, his thin shoulders hunched, dark eyes wary. At fourteen, Addison Wentzel was a study in contradictions: Eager to please, but quick to retreat, brilliant with food, but hesitant with people.
“Si,abuela?”
“Fetch one of the good blankets from the linen closet. The picnic blanket, not those flimsy throw things.”
As he scurried off, Cas appeared in the doorway.
“If you can carry the picnic things, I’ll get what we need to check the runestones.”
