We got settled into the booth, with me next to Quinn and Lily on Simon’s side. My butt had barely touched the seat before the server, a young, twentyish woman with a buzz cut and a lip piercing, practically ran for our table. I had the feeling Quinn had already started overtipping. “Hi, I’m Henna. What can I get you?” she said, anxious to please. “Do you want to hear our specials? Or maybe you need more time? I could come back—”
I shot my partner a sideways glare, but he just shrugged, unapologetic. Quinn didn’t drink, obviously, so on the few occasions when we went out, he tended to throw money around. He said it was for security—his bribes usually involved keeping the tables closest to us empty so we could talk—but I suspected he felt guilty for not buying himself drinks.
Simon already had a beer in front of him. Lily ordered a Brewery Taster, which was basically choosing mini versions of six different beers, and she began rattling off the four-word names for each of her picks. When she’d finally finished, the server looked eagerly at me, and I pointed to Simon’s glass. “What he’s having, and another for him.”
After Henna rushed off, I told the others about Maven buying the first round. “That was nice of her,” Simon said mildly. Lily suddenly became very interested in staring at the food menu, and Quinn and I exchanged a look. I wondered if I’d already put my foot in my mouth.
Completely aside from the normal grief process, Hazel’s death was a sore spot for all of us. Hazel had been shot after Simon and Lily’s eldest sister, Morgan, had made a grab at their mother’s leadership role in the state. Morgan had been stopped and captured in Cheyenne, but before Maven and the witches could decide what to do with her, a group of armed men had arrived at the Pellar farm and tried to rescue her. Both Morgan and Hazel had been killed in the firefight.
Simon blamed himself because he’d pushed me to bring Morgan back to Boulder alive. I blamed myself because I’d actually done it, even though I had known it was a risky and futile action. Maven—and, by extension, Quinn—had shown up at the farmhouse too late to save Hazel, so even he shared in the guilt.
Only Lily was completely blameless—yet she was the one who had to carry the burden of Hazel’s responsibilities.
After a moment of awkward silence, Simon asked me about Maven’s summons earlier that evening. “I’m guessing it was another phone call,” he said cheerfully, “since you don’t seem to be covered in blood.”
“I could have changed my clothes,” I pointed out. “But no, she wanted to offer me a sort of . . . freelance job, I guess,” I told them. I added hastily, “But I’m not taking it.”
“What was the job?” Simon and Lily asked in unison.
I sighed. “There’s this vampire in the South who’s missing some ghosts. He sounds nuts, and I’m not going.”
“What do you mean, missing?” Lily asked. “Like someone’s been laying them?”
“That, or they crossed over on their own.” I shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. I’m not going.”
My best friend frowned at me. “You haven’t talked about ghosts in forever. Are you still laying the remnants around town? I know I haven’t had time to help . . .” She trailed off, her eyebrows raised.
My mouth was suddenly dry. I snuck a glance at the others: Simon had a look of dawning realization—oh yeah, she hasn’t been talking about ghosts—and Quinn’s nostrils flared. He was reacting to me, rather than the question. Fuck.
Thankfully, at that moment Henna rushed over with a full tray balanced rather impressively on her arm. I mentally thanked my boyfriend for his foresight in bribing the server.
Henna laid out our drinks and began scribbling down food orders, but I barely heard what I said, much less anyone else. I was scrambling to think of a quick change in topic.
Not for the first time, Quinn swooped in to save me. When Henna had hurried off to put in our food order, he picked up the water glass in front of him and raised it. “To Hazel,” he said quietly.
Simon raised his beer and set it against Quinn’s glass. “Blessings on her and the circle she holds.”
He looked at Lily. My friend raised one of her small glasses but didn’t speak. Her lower lip trembled. A terrible, pregnant silence seemed