Don't Hex and Drive (Stay a Spell #2) - Juliette Cross Page 0,17
hand, her eyes on her tablet as she scrolled through the news. Her morning ritual.
I poured a glass of orange juice and frowned when I shut the fridge door. My friendly-reminder list was half hidden by other crap. It was actually a to-do list to keep everyone organized for the month, but I always thought a friendly-reminder list sounded more positive. I moved the two papers blocking my spreadsheet. A pizza coupon for Violet’s favorite take-out place. And some flyer for a poetry reading at The Boho Lounge. Definitely Clara’s. I wondered when she’d ever get the nerve to read her own.
After scooping three spoonfuls of granola into a bowl, I peered out the kitchen window into our neighbor’s back yard. I couldn’t help myself.
Thursday morning, I’d caught him in an enticing yoga pose, shirtless, barefoot, and in a pair of loose workout pants. I’d frozen completely on the path to my greenhouse. There was only a wrought iron gate and a row of azalea bushes blocking my view, so it was hard not to look. I was watching the rivulet of sweat roll down the indention of his spine when I felt his gaze on me. A fleeting glimpse of his curving smile had me zipping away and hiding in my greenhouse till it was dark. I tried not to admit it to myself, but he truly was a beautiful man. And who wouldn’t want to catch a glimpse of that body each morning? More than a pick-me-up than caffeine, really.
Finding no sign of him in his yard, I combined my yogurt with the granola, and then picked up my orange juice to join Jules at the table.
The thought of that half-naked, sweaty, and limber vampire had unfortunately made me wonder yet again where my package was. I’d checked my tracking number that claimed it was delivered. Couldn’t have been Evie who picked it up since she slept over at Mateo’s again last night. I needed to check with the others. Maybe it was delivered to Maybelle’s. That had happened on occasion since our mailman knew us and dropped so many deliveries to the shop.
Jules’s scowl, more pronounced than usual, told me she was reading bad news. What’s new, right?
“So…what’s going on in the world today?”
Jules and I were always the first up. I enjoyed our morning chats together, even if they tended to focus on the insanity going on outside our quiet bubble on Magazine Street. She read the news while I doodled my lists that somehow kept me centered.
“More details about the last girl that went missing. Did you know she was last seen at Barrel Proof?”
Taking a sip of orange juice, I shook my head. “No, I didn’t.” I scribbled a new list onto my Steno pad absent-mindedly. This particular one was inspired by a yoga-loving neighbor.
But Jules’s comment had me thinking about those girls again. Barrel Proof was only a few blocks down from our house.
“That’s two girls taken from that bar. The other two also from pubs in the Garden District.”
This was the first time I could remember supernaturals targeting humans in such a terrible crime. Though I didn’t want to ask because I was afraid of the answer, I didn’t want to be ignorant either. “Have they found any bodies yet?”
As of now, we weren’t exactly sure what was happening to the kidnapped women. I mean, we could imagine the worst, but none of us had spoken about it without any evidence to go on. Not yet.
She shook her head, eyes on the article. “No.”
“What does Ruben say?”
She tapped the screen to close the article and lifted her coffee, her gaze swiveling out the kitchen window. Her posture stiffened and her mouth pursed as she either considered or ignored my question. I wasn’t sure which.
“Jules?” I prompted.
Turning to me, she cupped her mug with both hands. Circles were smudged under her gray-blue eyes, her focus sharp and flinty. With no makeup on, which was as typical for her as it was for me, her dark hair in a short bob framed a pale face. Whereas I spent a good deal of time outside and in the garden, she spent most of hers indoors at the Cauldron. Her lack of sun and obvious lack of sleep gave her a fragility I didn’t like to see her wear.
“Ruben and his men are sure it’s a vampire, but that’s as far as they’ve gotten,” she finally said. “He’s brought in an expert to help. A Stygorn.”