Page 4 of The Mermaid's Bubble Lounge
I filled Fergus’ food bowl and then made myself a large chorizo omelet. When he finished his breakfast, he ran out to the little doggies’ room, aka the side of the house. I brought out my plate and a large glass of iced tea to have my meal al fresco on the patio.
A hummingbird hovered over the salvia along the back wall of the garden. Fergus, who’d flopped on the ground beside me, tracked it but couldn’t be bothered to stir himself. In fact, he rolled over, using my foot as a pillow.
“It’s your own fault. No one told you to run all the way down to Fisherman’s Wharf.” I thought about it for a minute. “Why did you?” I scratched the side of his head. “You ran there like you knew what we were going to find.”
Knowing our property had wards on top of wards, I didn’t worry about calling Russell and talking outside. Russell, the vampire Master of the City was sleeping, as all good little vampires were right now, so I left a message for him on his cell.
“Hi. It’s Sam. I know you’re sleeping, but when you wake up, can you look into a murder near the Bubble Lounge this morning—or, more likely, last night. Fergus and I were on a run and saw a woman with a bloody, vampire-bite-looking wound on her neck. I told Vlad and we’re hoping you have people in human services you can contact for more information. Anyway, just wanted you to know. Sorry to give you bad news. Say hi to Godfrey and Audrey for me. Unless that’s not a cool thing to ask the Master to do. In which case, forget I asked. Anyway, thanks.”
I needed to learn how to bullet point my messages. Oh, well. I brought my empty plate in and rinsed it before putting it in the dishwasher.
“Come on, buddy. It’s time for work.”
Fergus jumped up and ran to the front door. He may have been tired but there was an endless energy reserve for the stuff he wanted to do.
I locked up, snapped on his leash again, and then we strolled across the road and through the green area between home and The Slaughtered Lamb before taking the stairs down to Lands End lookout. Humans on the stairs made it down to a promontory at the edge of the ocean. Supernaturals, like myself, were able to trip a ward and continue down the stairs, going underground to The Slaughtered Lamb Bookstore and Bar.
My bookstore and bar was built into the cliff face at the water line. Aquarium-grade glass kept the books dry and gave us a gorgeous view of the ocean and the hills in the North Bay. How, you might ask. Magical builders helped me create the world’s most beautiful bookstore and bar.
We weren’t open yet, so it was quiet. Bright morning light streamed in through the window as kelp bobbed in the ocean. I flicked on a few lights and then went to the kitchen to fill the pup’s work water bowl.
Dave, my half-demon cook, had left me a plate of cookies on the island. Baking helped with his uncontrollable bouts of anger, and I was here for it. Truth be told, morning cookies were my favorite part of the day.
Today’s plate had a note beside it that read lavender chai cookies. What? Normally, the lack of chocolate would be enough to disappoint me, but these sounded intriguing. I grabbed a bully stick for Fergus and then a cookie for me. I took a bite and stopped, closing my eyes, letting the taste settle on my tongue. De-licious.
We opened at noon, but I had arrived early so I could unpack book boxes. Cookies and new books. Did it get any better than this? Once I’d loaded all the new books on a cart and broken down the boxes, I grabbed two more cookies and headed to the bookstore.
Owen, my right-hand guy, Slaughtered Lamb manager, and wicche extraordinaire, arrived at eleven thirty to get the bar prepped. He’d watch that side of The Slaughtered Lamb while I covered this side, adding the new books to our inventory.
Holding the new books, often reading the opening paragraphs, made me happy, but today my mind kept returning to that poor woman who had just been trying to go for a run. A good long growl vibrated through my chest.
Owen appeared in the bookstore doorway. “Everything okay? Did we get the wrong shipment?”
I shook my head and then explained to Owen about the dead woman.
“I’m sorry.” He shook his head. “That’s horrible. George made us waffles this morning and you had to start your day with death.”
“It was worse for her.” I dropped the book in my hand back onto the cart. “She was just trying to do the most basic thing, just living, and some bastard decided her life was his to take.”
Owen nodded. “It might have been a female vampire.”
“That doesn’t make it better,” I protested. “If this wasn’t a human creep, we’re dealing with a vampire who is broadcasting who they are and what they do to the human world. Neither scenario is good.”
Owen leaned his elbows on the counter and stared out the window as waves crashed. After a moment, he said, “Is it wrong that I’m rooting for a human creep?”
I shook my head. “One of them is horrible, but we can hopefully help the authorities capture the guy. The other is indicative of a much bigger and scarier problem.”
Owen and I sat with that possibility for a moment and then he said, “How about if I get you a cup of tea?”
Slumping in my chair, I nodded. “Thanks. I’d appreciate that.”
He walked back toward the bar. “Oh, and don’t worry about shelving all of those. Meri wanted more hours since she’s on summer break. She’ll be here at opening.”
Meri was my newest employee. She was half-fae and a teenager. Her father was a merman who scowled at us from the ocean, keeping his eyes on her to make sure she was safe. His near constant presence embarrassed her, but I’d assured her that many of us would have loved to have a protective dad watching over us. Mine died when I was a baby and while hers often scared me, I still got a little choked up when I caught him smiling, watching her work.
I opened the wards at noon. A group of four wicches were the first down the stairs. They were here most days, so Owen already had cups and a full teapot waiting for them. They were funny older women who enjoyed teasing Owen and sharing stories. If any problems went down, though, they’d be the first to start throwing spells. The magical community respected and feared the crone wicches. They knew their own power and had lost all patience with—what they referred to as—nonsense.
A moment later, I heard light steps on the stairs and knew Meri had arrived. She came in with her hoodie covering most of her face and her hands buried in her pockets. Meri was inhumanly beautiful. She had long white-blonde hair, golden skin, and violet eyes. She was a stunner who often had to deal with stalkers, other teens and, more disturbingly, adults. Consequently, she hid beneath oversized clothing. As someone who did the same for almost eight years—trying to hide my scars—I totally got it. Usually, when she arrived, she’d take off the hoodie and get to work. Today, she kept it on.
