Page 31 of Curses & Cold Brew
“How did you know I was going to be here?” I murmured from the corner of my mouth. “Are you stalking me?”
The vampires chattered amongst themselves about their favorite local feeding grounds—apparently, the dumpster behind the police station was the place to be these days. On the menu had been a blend of rowdy locals who’d crossed one of them at the market and tourists who hadn’t respected the sanctity of Bones and Tomes or Ghoulish Antiques.
All young men, unsurprisingly—who’d been trying to peacock for townies who would rather eat them than sleep with them.
“I have better things to do with my time than try and follow your grumpy self around town,” Iris replied. “This is just a pleasant surprise.”
“Grumpy?” My frown deepened as I started working on my project.
I’d finally started feeling like I had this situation under control, like I wasn’t seeing Iris’s face every time I closed my eyes. But of course, she’d had to show up here and ignite my nerves like a live wire in a lightning storm. Whatever delusions I had about my nonexistent feelings for her were ruined by her presence.
I kept my expression a steely neutral. “You developed a sudden penchant for knitting?”
Her shoulder lifted and fell. “I have a lead.”
She was pleased with herself. I could hear it in her tone.
I cursed as I dropped a stitch. “I thought I told you to?—”
“Yeah, well, you should’ve known I wouldn’t listen,” she snapped back, looking up at me with those big green eyes, her lips pinched like the fucking brat she was.
I thought of all the ways I’d enjoy punishing her for her mouthy retorts. When I finally called in her debt, neither heaven nor hell was going to stop me from making her howl my name louder than a hell beast.
Fuck, Ramona. Get your head straight.
I narrowed my eyes. “You suspect vampires?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“What is it we’re being accused of now?” Avery, Agnes’s daughter, shot daggers at us from her sharply winged eyes. “Yet another thing you demons are placing on the vampires?”
“Not at knitting club, kids,” Agnes chided.
Only theclick-clackof knitting needles filled the room for a tense moment. Demons and vampires had been at odds for centuries. Since around the fall of Rome, to be more specific. Once the Catholic church had taken hold of Europe and had begun spreading Catholicism to every corner of the world, vampires and demons had become targets. At times, it was more convenient to let vampires take the fall for certain demonic escapades. Only tentative truces kept us from turning on each other.
“No demon is crossing the treaty,” I assured Avery, but gestured toward Iris. “It’s the witch who has brought a question to the table. Nothing more than a question.”
Avery eyed Iris, and the hunger in her gloomy grey eyes stoked the possessive fire I had been trying to smother.
“Don’t be shy.” Agnes sounded cheerier than I expected. “There are no secrets at knitting club.”
I should have let Iris answer, but Avery looked murderous. “Agnes,” I said, appealing to the good sense of my friend, “is there any chance there’s a new vampire in town? One who may not understand the dynamics of our delicate ecosystem?”
“Not that I know of,” Agnes replied, her thin, snowy brow lifting. “And I know everything.”
“Any of your ilk stepping out of line lately?” Iris piped up next to me. “Anyone going through a rebellious phase?”
Agnes pursed her lips. “When are we not rebellious?” She let out a watery laugh. “But no, nothing against town ordinances or ancient treaties.”
“That’s both a relief and disheartening,” I admitted. “I’ve been the target of some . . . unsavory evil.”
Every eye in the circle was on me. It was rare for a demon to admit they were in trouble, and even rarer that they asked for help.
“I’m sorry to hear that, Ramona.” Agnes refocused on the shawl she was knitting. “I hope this doesn’t dampen your passion for good gossip and fashion patterns.”
“Was it in town?” Avery asked. “Or a town nearby?”
“Why would that matter?” Agnes asked.
