Thank God for the barstools. I barely had the energy to drape myself over the bar. The entire main level smelled of yeast bread and bacon and eggs and pancakes.
Molly had turned on the lights in the baker’s kitchen and fired up one of the commercial ovens. Sweating, her red hair in bouncy curls, she slid bread tins into the oven. She was liberally dusted with flour. Eli and Liz, Molly’s witch sister, were standing side by side at the big, six-burner stove in the commercial kitchen, Liz flipping pancakes, Eli moving a lot slower than usual, turning bacon and scrambling eggs with a spatula. But they looked cozy together. Maybe a little flirty. Eli had a type and Liz was fearless and powerful and maybe a little dangerous. Yeah. He’d like Liz.
Molly’s sister had been out of the dating scene for a long time. And she was cozied up to a hunk-a-hunk-a-hot-man. She was flushed and I didn’t think it was because of the stove top.
The baker’s oven closed and the scents of yeast bread and oatmeal and eggs and pancakes floated through the air. And bacon. I had missed bacon. My human self was hungry. Starving. As if he heard that thought, Eli turned and found me sitting at the bar, his eyes dark and intense. He placed the spatula handle in Liz’s hand and walked slowly around to me. His feet were encased in wool socks and he wore jeans and a heavy, loose sweatshirt. He stopped just outside of my personal space, holding my gaze. Bruiser glided off the barstool beside me and stepped into the kitchen, toward the commercial coffeemaker, giving us privacy.
“You look better,” he said.
“You look alive. I was worried there for a while.”
“Janie,” he said, reproof in his tone.
I chuckled and held out my arms. Eli stepped closer and we hugged. It was a bro hug, all back patting and awkwardness. And it made me want to cry with happiness.
He stepped away before it could get too girly and said, “Want pancakes?”
“And bacon. Lots and lots of bacon. Pounds of it.”
“Let’s start with four pieces and move up from there,” he suggested. “Not interested in cleaning up bacon puke. You’ll have to trust me on this one.”
“Spoilsport.”
* * *
* * *
After the best breakfast in ages, I dropped on the sofa in the TV room/office. I called Soul, expecting to get voice mail, prepared to leave a snarky message. Instead, Soul answered. “Assistant Director, PsyLED.”
“Oh. Ummm. You’re back. Not missing. Not kidnapped.” Out of touch for days and taking three weeks of leave and now suddenly back on the job? Like that wasn’t weird?
“Why would I be—Never mind. Spit it out, Yellowrock. I’m on a crime scene.”
“Since when does the ass director do fieldwork?”
“You think I haven’t heard that one? Try harder. And I’m here because an arcenciel was spotted in Knoxville killing a local farmer’s beef cattle.”
“Oh. Ummm. We got a problem in Asheville. A nasty foreign vampire—”
“Is in town and ICE is handling it,” she interrupted. “ICE and PsyLED do not play well together, and when things got contentious, a meeting was called. It wasn’t pretty and it pitted my boss and the director of ICE against each other in front of the secretary of defense. She sided with ICE. They kicked us out of the meeting. I have nothing to offer you, Yellowrock.”
“Info exchange?”
“You first.”
“The vamp is the Flayer of Mithrans. The other Son of Darkness. In the recent past he had, or currently he has, witches in a time circle somewhere nearby. He’s wearing, well, growing, an exoskeleton.”
Soul whispered a curse and I heard a car door close. The ambient noise on her side went soft, and I figured she had gotten in a car. “We have dealt with this in Natchez. I’ll see that my people refresh their memories on the reports. As I recall, exoskeletons are the result of genetic changes that force vampires into insectoid forms. It happens when a vamp is trying to alter or bend time with witch magic. Correct?”
“Yeah. ICE can’t handle this.” The only thing that might—assuming they could find Shimon—was extreme force. Rocket launchers. Guided missiles. “They have to have a time circle somewhere.”
“Any idea where the circle is?”
It was likely that Soul was going to give me nothing. But I took a chance. “No. But I did find a rift, down deep in a cleft of stone. And an arcenciel flew