Witchy Sour(37)

My breathing eased, my chest finally loosening as I realized how uptight I’d been on the walk over. Between the men in cloaks, the theft of the spellbook, and my mentor’s odd behavior, strange things were happening, and it had me on edge.

Strolling down Main Street, however, allowed me to relax. Shop owners sold their wares and conversed with the townsfolk while parents whistled, chatted, and skipped through the streets with their kids. The sense of normalcy was refreshing.

By the time I reached the end of Main Street, I was smiling again. I’d returned the pepper spray to my keychain and the vial of defensive potion to my pocket. Turning off of the cobblestone road, I entered a smaller walkway—not much more than a garden path—that led to the sole B&B on The Isle. I followed the flat stones to the front steps of a quaint, cottage-like building.

I raised a hand and knocked on the front door. Yellow walls made for a bright, cutesy building with pink shutters and a sky-blue door. The theme was very Cozy Country Escape, despite the tropical setting.

The door opened a second later, though I couldn’t see who was behind it.

“Can I help you?” squeaked a voice somewhere around my knees. “I’m Midge, I run this place.”

“Oh, hello.” For a moment, I debated getting on my knees, or at least crouching down so that we could see eye to eye. As it was, she was staring at the scar just above my knee while I was looking down at the top of her head. “I’m here to visit a friend.”

“A friend, you say? I wasn’t told to expect any guests.” Midge turned around and bounced her petite frame over to the front desk. “What’s this friend’s name?”

Her gray hair was knotted in a bun on top of her head, and her face was wrinkled from years and years of living. But her wrinkles weren’t the tired, sun-worn battle scars of a hard life. No, her wrinkles were pleasant, as if they’d been formed from smiling instead of frowning, from looking at the world with kindness instead of judgment. I immediately liked her.

“His name is Liam,” I said, still standing in the doorway. “He said he was staying at the B&B, and I only know of one. I assume it’s here?”

“We’re the only B&B on The Isle.” Her face crinkled in an amused expression. “You’re new here, aren’t you?”

I nodded.

“Well, what are you doing standing over there? You look harmless, come on in.” Midge waved a hand for me to enter the room. I took a step forward as Midge took six steps upward and stood on a platform behind the desk. Now, we were eye to eye. “Liam, you say?”

I nodded again, sneaking a glance at the step stool she’d used. It looked like stacks of old, hardcover books in a language I didn’t recognize. “Liam, that’s right.”

“He’s here, but he didn’t say he was expecting company.”

“Well, he didn’t know I was planning to come,” I said. “But he did invite me to come by...sort of.”

Midge’s pleasant gaze froze. “May I ask the nature of your business before I call up to him?”

My face must have turned into a beet. “Um, I’m just returning something of his.”

“Let me call him.”

“If it’s too much trouble, I can just leave it here and he can pick it up later.” I jangled the coins in my pocket for emphasis. “He overpaid me earlier, so I just wanted to return the extra. I didn’t realize how late it’s getting...”

She shook her head, distracted by some sort of Comm device pressed against her ear. A moment later, she shook her head again. “He’s not in his room, but he might be grabbing a bite to eat in the dining area. Follow me.”

Midge hopped down her stack of books and gestured for me to follow her through a doorway on the far side of the lobby. “Even if he’s not eating, you should really consider giving our chowder a try. It really is to die for.”

I laughed. “I bet. It smells heavenly.”

“No,” she said, peering up at me. “Literally, someone once died for it.”

I winced. “I ate already, thank you.”

“I’m kidding,” she said, turning around and winking at me. “Nobody has died for it.”

“Oh.” I forced a false laugh. I’d had enough talk about dying and potions lately, and it was getting hard to tell what was real and what was fake. “You’re funny.”

“Nobody’s died...recently,” she corrected. “Oh, look, there he is.”

I didn’t get a chance to ask if she was kidding a second time because just then she pointed across a small, romantically lit dining room to a table for two. However, one of the place settings was empty. Behind the other sat an impeccably dressed man.