Kicking It(110)
Setting the open pill bottle on the bedside table, I dumped a bit of the water in my palm, let it run down my fingers, and then made a flicking motion. Water droplets flung from my fingers and Derrick jerked backward with a loud inhalation.
“What—?” Derrick blinked several times before groaning and running a hand over his eyes and down to the dark stubble forming on his chin. “I had a premonition.”
“I assumed that much,” I said, moving the painkillers and glass closer.
He took both with a nod of thanks. Then he dumped several pills onto his palm, not bothering to count before tossing them back and washing them down. Wow, the premonition must have been intense.
I considered waiting in the room for him to tell me what he’d learned—though it may have nothing to do with our case—but he’d no doubt appreciate a chance to dress. If he had any important information, he’d hurry.
I was halfway through cleaning and reassembling my crossbow when the doors dividing our rooms opened and a now clean and dressed Derrick emerged.
“So,” I said, setting down my crossbow so I could give my partner my full attention. “Did your premonition pertain to our case?”
“Yes, but you aren’t going to like it.”
—
Sometimes Derrick’s visions were specific. This time? Less so. All he knew—or at least, all he shared—was that I’d find out something important at the No Bull Vegetarian Diner. He didn’t know when or how I’d learn this crucial info, but he said solving the case hinged on my presence in the diner.
The idea of more waiting, possibly a lot of waiting, didn’t appeal to me, but how could I argue? Premonitions weren’t something that could be fudged—it was the future. You try to change it, and the vision already took that into account.
Which was why, two hours later I was sliding into a corner booth at No Bull. I hadn’t been sure if I was on a recon trip or a hunt, so I’d played it safe and went full hunt mode. That included all my obfuscation spells, which while I wasn’t exactly invisible—true invisibility charms tended to have a high fail rate—I might as well have been. I was cloaked with a spell that wrapped shadows around me, a look-away charm, and if anyone did manage to see through those, I had a spell that made me even harder to remember than normal. I’d also activated my muffling charm.
The diner wasn’t huge. It had maybe a dozen booths along the front, a handful of tables in the center, and a milk-shake bar to one side. The seat I’d chosen gave me a decent view of the whole place, with all its shiny chrome and cartoonish art in the style of Roy Lichtenstein. The booths and tables held only a scattering of patrons, but the milk-shake bar was packed. And a milk shake sounded good, but I resisted. I was on a stakeout after all.
The bell on the door tinkled softly and a young couple entered. Their eyes skittered over my booth without stopping before they picked a booth halfway between the door and me. A dumpy-looking waitress in a salmon-colored uniform took her time waddling up to the couple. I watched as she took their drink orders before heading toward the kitchen and I gave a mental groan. There was nothing sinister or suspicious about this place or the people in it.
Not yet, at least.
—
The dinner rush started a little before six. No Bull filled quickly, a line forming at the front. No one questioned the empty—looking—back booth. With the crowd came a second waitress. Unlike the one who’d been on the clock since I arrived, this girl was all energy and smiles. She danced from table to table as she took orders and delivered food. I was rather surprised considering she was wearing totally impractical footwear for a waitress. I hated the term “do-me heels” but I couldn’t think of any other description. They were bright red with four-inch, pencil-thin heels, and they didn’t match her uniform.
As I was looking for anything unusual or out of place, the shoes were suspicious. And they were the only unusual thing I’d seen so far today.
This seriously can’t come down to a pair of stilettos? I’d been hunting shadow creatures for half a week and they were somehow tied up with a giddy waitress who liked heels? It didn’t seem credible, and yet, I had to find a way to confirm or eliminate her as the unknown witch culprit. Which means I need to get my hands on those shoes.
The bell on the door chimed again, and I tore my gaze off the waitress. I’d intended to study the new patron, but I already knew this one.
Derrick.
He didn’t bother looking at the patrons, but, if I judged his studying gaze correctly, he evaluated the room as a whole. He turned in my direction and headed past first one, then two, three booths until he stood at the final booth. He slipped into the seat across from me and then twisted so he could rest his back against the wall with his feet in the aisle.