Page 16 of Death Bringer

He did mention a hotel, but I don’t remember which one.” Mike shrugged. “I generally try not to listen to everyone’s conversations, but it was a quiet night.”

“We understand, and we’re grateful you’ve been able to help us so much.”

“You’re welcome.” Mike hesitated. “Did Adam, like, steal stuff from Brad’s apartment or something?”

“He stole something, all right.” Ella wrapped her scarf around her neck. “But we’ll find him and make sure Brad gets everything back.”

“Good luck.”

She followed Vadim back out into the sunshine and walked into the nearest restaurant. She sat opposite him at a tiny table covered with a traditional red-and-white-check tablecloth. The table wobbled when she picked up her menu.

“Can you fix that?”

“The table?” He folded his paper napkin into a wedge, rocked the table for a minute and then shoved it under one of the feet. “Is that better?”

“Perfect. You don’t have a magic fixing spell, then?”

“I’m more of a destroyer than a fixer.”

“Funny.” She grinned at him as the waitress placed breadsticks on the table, accompanied by a plate of olive oil and balsamic vinegar. “I’m starving.”

“You always are.”

“I can’t help it.” She dipped her breadstick into the oil and swirled it around. “I love to eat.” Holding his gaze, she brought the bread to her lips and slowly licked the oil off the rounded tip. His eyes narrowed and the temperature around them seemed to increase by about a hundred degrees. Very slowly she sucked the breadstick into her mouth and bit down.

He shuddered and reached for her hand. She was scorchingly aware of his need beneath her own skin, of wanting to rip off his shirt and touch his bare chest, to reach lower and grasp?—

“Are you ready to order?”

Ella jumped and turned to the waitress. “Yeah, I’ll have the cheese ravioli with the Gorgonzola sauce, please.”

“And for you, sir?”

“A green salad and a bowl of spaghetti with olive oil. No cheese.”

“Thank you.” The waitress scribbled on her pad. “Anything to drink?”

“Just some water, please.”

Ella dragged her attention away from Vadim. “A soda. Any kind, I don’t mind.”

“There are about two thousand calories in that ravioli you ordered.”

“So?”

“You’re not going to die next week.”

“We’ve already had this discussion.” She picked up another breadstick and pointed it at him. “What did you think of Mike the bartender?”

“He seemed to be telling the truth.”

“That’s what I got, too.” She deliberately crunched her way down the breadstick, sending crumbs flying everywhere. “It fits in with what Brad told us, as well. Don’t you think it’s weird how this Adam guy hasn’t left much of an impression on anyone?”

“I suspect that’s part of his magic. A creature that steals other people’s faces wouldn’t want to draw attention to his own, now, would he?”

“True.” Ella contemplated the plate of oil. “I still don’t get what he wants with Brad’s face, though, do you?”

“It could be for many things. A spell, an offering to a higher being, a collection of curiosities. Otherworld serial killers can be just as inventive as human ones.”

---