Page 15 of Strike It Witch

He drew a circle on the tile with his big toe.

“I’d like to remind you that if anything happens to me, the cushy garden setup you have here goes away. My credit cards are canceled, you are no longer protected from the wolf shifters, and Fennel will find a new home.”

The gnome’s foot retracted beneath his gray robe. He snatched the bundle from my hands, undid the twine, and spread out the contents. Then he reached into his robes and pulled out a crystal sliver, tossed it into the mix, and bundled everything up again.

“Thank you.” I didn’t comment on his rotten behavior. It would be a waste of oxygen. Cecil was Cecil. I was just glad he’d fixed it.

Fennel lifted his head from his forepaws. “Meow?”

“No, you’re fine to stay here. I’ve got no reason to believe the client will try anything. We’re meeting in broad daylight at the Desert Rose Café.” I pocketed the herb bag. “But, you know, better safe than poisoned.”

Hell.

I’d forgotten it was Valentine’s Day.

I’d gone home to grab the belladonna, my purse, and car keys, and found a handmade, red silk camellia in a clear plastic box on the front step of my trailer. Crystals the size of sand grains had been sewn on the petals to give the impression of delicate little dewdrops.

It was stunning.

I immediately tucked it into my hair, behind my right ear.

The note attached was written in Ida’s slanted scrawl.

Happy Galentine’s Day. Saw this a couple weeks ago and thought of you. The gals are meeting up at eight tonight in the Britton’s hot tub, if you want to join us. Gladys is making one of those charcutie board things. Lots of cheese. I’m bringing wine.

“Charcutie?” Well, it was a step up from charcoochie, which was what she’d been calling charcuterie boards before I corrected her.

Although I’d forgotten the date, I hadn’t forgotten about Ida. Her gift had come in last week, I just hadn’t had time to pick it up. I’d go after my morning meeting with the belladonna buyer.

I was halfway to my car when my cell phone rang. The private number made me hesitate, but I answered, albeit not with my usual polite greeting. “Yeah?”

The deep male voice on the other end of the line had a refined air. “I cannot meet you at the coffee shop this morning.”

“I don’t like last minute changes,” I said.

“Neither do I. Unfortunately, this delay is outside my control.”

“Fine. Where are you? Maybe we can meet somewhere nearby.” I had no idea where he was calling from. There were no background noises, nothing to clue me in. It was only his voice and a hollow, clattering inhale between sentences. "Unless you're trying to back out of our deal…"

“I would not have gone to the trouble of tracking down a low caste demon opening portals in exactly the right place to access a garden in Limbo only to back out now." His voice sounded like something pulled out of a deep freezer.

I shivered. “This isn’t how I do business.”

“If you want the other half of your payment, it is how you will do business today,witch.” He said the word like he’d crunched the consonants with his back teeth before spewing them at me.

“When and where?” I asked, letting my annoyance creep into my voice.

“Noon. Las Paloma. Ronan’s Pub.” The thinly veiled rage in his tone made me glad I’d thought to ask Cecil for the protection bag.

“I’ll be there,” I said.

He ended the call.

Perfect. As if today hadn’t already sucked enough, I now had to meet my client at a wolf shifter bar.

Not that I had anything against shifters in general, but I had a lot against the Pallás wolf pack in particular, and the manwho owned Ronan’s Pub was not only high up in the pack, he happened to be the alpha leader’s son.

If I had to face Ronan Pallás today, I’d require a cappuccino and a lavender scone in my belly first. The three cups of coffee I’d had earlier were already wearing off.

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