Her fish mouth bobbed open like she was gasping for air. It was a disconcerting look for sure. “Whaaaat?”
“Look, I know he’s out of my league!” I almost shouted. I could feel my control slipping as we drew closer to Centennial Park. Really, it wasn’t a park but a graveyard that extended well beyond the walls that were supposed to contain it. The closer I got, the more my agitation increased, until I was all but vibrating with it.
Because what had happened in the kitchen still bothered me.
“You too good for him anyway,” Feish said softly. “He’s used goods.”
Her assessment of Crash put me over the edge of crazy laughter. I stopped at the brick wall surrounding Centennial Park and leaned against it as I laughed till I had to cross my legs. Tears streamed down my face as I clung to the wall. Used goods. Crash was used goods?
Like . . . was that something he (or any man) would ever worry about? Doubtful.
“Why so funny?” Feish asked. “He was a ladies’ man for long time. Not now. But long time.”
That made me remember those girls who’d been under his arms at the fae in-between we’d stumbled into. They’d been stunners, ten plus on the scale, and younger than me by half my years.
The thing was, whenever I was around Crash, I forgot all that. He drove it out of me, or rather my desire for him did. Whenever I was near him, I was filled with the heated wish to explore every muscle on his body with my mouth. I pressed my forehead against the coolness of the bricks, calm slowly suffusing me.
“I’m hungry,” Feish announced suddenly. “Let’s go to the Pirates’ House. I want pecan pie.” She looped an arm through mine and dragged me in the general direction of the restaurant. The last thing I wanted was food. The chemical whipped cream felt like it was curdling in my belly, which, let me tell you, was a crappy feeling. I let her lead us for a few minutes before I realized we weren’t heading toward the restaurant at all. What was she up to now?
“I’m not hungry.”
“I am,” Feish insisted, pulling me to the left. I pulled back. We were down by Factors Row, and a set of eight long, hairy legs dangled down from the walkway above. I looked at Feish, who shrugged.
The legs belonged to Jinx, a shifter of sorts who frequented Factors Row. Really, she was more of a trickster who could change shapes as an added bonus.
“Jinx, what are you editing now?” I called up to her, and she scrambled away. A red pen fell from the rafters, along with a series of papers that floated down like oversized snowflakes.
“Nothing!” she yelled as she dropped to the ground and scooped up the papers. They stuck to the toxic hairs that covered her legs. “I’m not editing.”
“No?” I picked up a sheet of neatly printed paper that had landed near my feet. The series of red marks across the page would no doubt be the bane of any writer’s existence. “Looks like you’re editing to me.”
“Proofreading,” she snapped, one hairy leg yanking the paper away from me. I made sure to not touch her.
The spines in her hairy legs were a bad match for me, and the last time I’d encountered them, I’d needed a lot of help—namely from Crash—in order to come out of the stupor she’d put me in.
“What are you doing here?” Jinx scuttled sideways, hugging the papers to her chest, not unlike the way I had held the manila envelope filled with papers about my family’s deaths.
“Looking for trouble,” Feish said. “You hear of any jobs? I think you might know of one.”
I shot a look at Feish. What the hell was she going on about? Our new odd jobs group, which we had yet to call anything but Gran’s Girls, had heard about a couple of potential jobs this week, but none were really promising and hadn’t panned out. Still, I wasn’t positive I wanted to ask Jinx for help. She was definitely trouble with a capital T.
Jinx looked hard at Feish and then gave a slow nod. “Goblin looking for help yesterday.” She tapped one long spindly leg against her mouth, which drew my attention to her long, curved fangs.
“We want that job,” Feish said.
“We do?” I looked at Feish, who was trying hard not to look at me at all. She kept her eyes fixed on the giant spider.
Jinx rubbed one fang with the tip of her foot. “If I tell you about him, will you bring me a book on editing?”
The weirdness that was my life and Savannah had no bounds.
Feish clapped her webbed hands together. “Right now.”
Apparently, this was happening.
I sighed. “Sure thing. One book on edits, coming up.”
Which was how I found myself back in the used bookstore on River Street. The owner narrowed his eyes at me, looking me up and down. “Do I know you?”
“Nope.” I strode into the place like I hadn’t loudly (and a tad aggressively) demanded a copy of Charlotte’s Web on my last visit—also for Jinx. I made my way through the store to the non-fiction section to find a bunch of books on how to write. Fewer on editing, but there were a couple.
I pulled out one that was super thick, the edges turned down, and had lots of highlights and marks on its pages. That would do the trick. I tucked it under my arm, ready to go.
Feish tapped me on the shoulder. “I’m looking for a good book on romance. I want to understand how it should happen between two people. Where should I start?”
I schooled my face because I didn’t want to hurt her feelings if she hoped to find herself a man. “Well, try the romance section. See if they have any of Denise Grover Swank’s books. They’re super fun. Perfect amount of heat and giggles. You can’t go wrong with her.”
Feish gave me a wide grin and hurried off down another thin alleyway of books. Apparently, we weren’t in any hurry to get back to Jinx, so I let my feet take me where they would. The place was a maze, and I was happy to get lost in it for a while. I certainly didn’t want to head back home anytime soon.
Given the way that Suzy had been eyeing Eric like the first meal she’d been handed in weeks, they’d be at it for a while. Lawdy jaysus, at least someone was getting laid.
I grimaced again at the thought of Gran being stuck in there with them, but then I found myself grinning. I was so going to get an earful when I got back and that just made me . . . happy. Because it could be far worse. I could be without Gran entirely. I’d take her being mad at me from time to time if it meant I got to keep her in my life.
My fingers brushing across the spines of the shelved books, I stopped dead in my tracks when one book heated and all but glued itself to my fingertips. Slowly I turned and looked at the item in question. There were no words on the outer edge, and when I pulled it out, the cover didn’t have anything on it either. It reminded me of the way I used to cover my textbooks with brown kraft paper.
I flipped it open, and then shoved it back as soon as I saw the interior title page.
Black Spells of Savannah and the Undead.
I turned, flushed with a weird sense of foreboding, and immediately stumbled over someone.
“Oh, I’m sorry.” I hit the side of the aisle and looked down at the person I’d stepped on.
Oster Boon, the leprechaun with fangs I’d bought Gran’s red leather-bound book from, stared up at me. He smiled. “Breena, I see you are still alive. That is rather shocking.”