Witching Time (The Wild Hunt #14) - Yasmine Galenorn Page 0,64

I had known Wager he had never had a receptionist. Instead, he opted for a sign on the desk asking clients to ring the bell. But today, that sign was missing.

“May I help you?” The guy’s smile made him ten times more gorgeous.

“I’m here to see Wager. I have a ten o’clock appointment. Raven BoneTalker.”

He glanced at an appointment book. “Yes, here you are. Let me get you an intake form.” He held out a clipboard with a form on it.

I shook my head. “Hold your horses. What’s your name?”

“Tony Namaka. I’m Mr. Chance’s new receptionist.”

“Well, Tony, Wager’s an old friend of mine. I need an intake form like I need another hole in my head, and unless I get my ears pierced a fourth time, that’s not going to happen.” I waved away the clipboard with a smile.

“I’m sorry. I’m new here and don’t know my way around yet.” He set the clipboard on the desk and then hesitantly punched the intercom button on the phone. Down in the Catacombs, the businesses often used landlines since cell reception still left a lot to be desired. “Mr. Chance, there’s a Raven BoneTalker to see you.”

“Send her in,” Wager said.

“You can—”

“I heard,” I said, winking at him. “I hope you enjoy the job. Wager’s a good boss. He’ll do right by you,” I added as I headed toward the door. Tony punched a button and the door clicked, unlocking. That was new too, I thought.

I peeked inside to find Wager sitting behind his desk. There was a mountain of file folders on the desk, two feet high. Wager was sorting through them, and when he heard me enter, he peeked around the stack, waving for me to sit down.

“Hey, Raven. Good to see you. You met Tony?”

I nodded. “Yes, I met Tony. Since when do you have a receptionist?”

“Since I realized what a mess my files are. I couldn’t find some information I needed for a client, and I couldn’t remember which file had the notes I needed. I searched for two weeks, and finally decided it’s time to hire someone.” He jerked his head toward the outer office. “Tony’s smart and he’s revamping the filing system.”

I wanted to laugh but stopped myself. Wager looked frazzled. As I sat down in one of the chairs near his desk, he moved the pile of file folders on his desk, shifting it to the floor so we could see each other comfortably.

“I think it’s good you hired help. He’ll be able to set appointments for you and keep you organized.” I leaned back in the chair.

“Let me grab my notes,” he said, sorting through another stack of papers on his desk. “Here they are.” He paused, then met my gaze. “What the hell are you involved with now? This little goose chase led me down a merry path, one that I don’t think you should be messing with.”

I frowned. “What did you find?”

“First, tell me what’s going on. Then I’ll tell you what I found out about that farm and the original owners.” He punched the intercom. “Tony, can you get me a triple-shot latte?” He turned to me. “Want anything?”

I nodded. “Pumpkin spice latte, please. Double shot. I already had a caramel mocha this morning.” I didn’t add that it had been a triple. Wager frowned on my caffeine addiction, even though he had a pretty stiff one going himself. Most people in the Seattle area were wired on caffeine. There was a Starbucks on every corner, sometimes two in one block, there were drive-thru espresso stands, there were all-night espresso stands. The blood in this city ran steaming hot and heavily caffeinated.

Wager told Tony what to get, then settled back. “All right, tell me what’s going on.”

I spelled out everything that had happened on Dream Circle Farm, including carting Marigold off to Shadow Oaks Safe Haven. “We have to find and kill that autumn wight or she’ll never be rid of its influence.”

“Crap. That’s bad news. I’ve never heard of them before now. I don’t think I ever want to encounter one.” He paused as Tony knocked on the door, then entered with our drinks. He handed us the steaming to-go cups, then just as quietly slipped back out to his desk, shutting the door behind him.

“Well, I did some research into the Lanchesters. There wasn’t much about Jericho, except that, yes, he did disappear in 1983. After that, there are no records of him. Nothing. No credit card charges, no