“And how did you manage that?”
“Long story short, running barefoot through a forest.” I snagged a carrot from the pile she was cutting and happily munched on it.
“That’s what I get for staying out of your thoughts,” she muttered. “Damn it, woman—”
“I’m fine, and there’s nothing you could have done to help. I will be limited in what I can do today, however.” I glanced at my watch. “Celia’s coming in at eight to help out.”
“Ah. Good.” She scraped the carrot sticks into a metal container. “Did you find the kid?”
“No. We did, however, find a dead and mutilated man.”
“How the hell did we go from a lost kid to a murdered man?” She held up a hand. “Don’t answer that. It’s this place again.”
Indeed. “There’s evidence of an animal attack, but until Ciara’s finished her examination, we won’t know for sure.”
“So the dead man is human?”
“Wolf.”
“I can’t imagine an ordinary animal getting the better of a werewolf.”
“Aiden thought it might be the result of a rogue wolf attack. Apparently it’s happened in the past.” I propped my butt against the stove to take the weight off my bruised foot. Which, of course, only made the punctured foot protest. “So, the pub? Details are required.”
She grinned. “It’s the old Walker Street Pub. The new owners have turned it into a funky ale bar with live music. And Monty, I have to say, is a fabulous dancer.”
“So a good time was had?”
“Indeed.”
Given how firmly her thoughts were currently shut down, I was thinking a very good time was had. “So, when’s the first official date?”
She rolled her eyes. “Never. And you promised to drop the subject.”
I grinned. “Does that mean you’re going to roll into an actual relationship with the man without ever admitting it?”
“I’m not dumb enough to answer that particular question.”
“Monty will be very disappointed if his grand plans never get an airing, you know.”
“He’ll get over it. You want to grab a knife and start helping?”
“Grab me a stool, and I will.”
She did so, and for the next half hour we finished the remaining bits of prep for the day. Our crew came in just before eight, and we had a fairly steady flow of customers for the rest of the day. While I hadn’t been expecting Aiden to make an appearance, I was rather surprised Monty didn’t—his afternoon coffee and cake breaks had become something of a ritual. But he was the reservation witch, and we did have a dead body on our hands.
Not knowing what was happening with that investigation was frustrating. I’d become rather accustomed to helping out with—or at least discussing—investigations when they were related to magic or the supernatural, and there was a large part of me that hated being out of the loop.
The café was closed and we were on the final stages of cleaning up when the bell above the front door rang cheerfully and Monty stepped through. He was the same height as Belle and very well built, with crimson hair that gleamed like dark fire in the late sunlight streaming through the windows and features that were easy enough on the eye.
“If you want coffee, you’ll have to settle for instant,” I said. “I’ve just cleaned down the machine.”
“That’s fine, but I’m not specifically here for that.”
I raised an eyebrow at the odd note of excitement in his voice. “Then what are you here for?”
“I brought a present for Belle.”
He stepped to one side and opened the door wider. A woman stepped past him. Shock coiled through me, but was swiftly followed by utter happiness.
She was tall and slender, with dark skin and silver eyes. A thick strip of white now dominated the front section of her long black hair, and her beautiful face was more lined than I remembered.
But her smile was as warm and welcoming as ever.
Ava Sarr.
Belle’s mom.
Chapter Three
There was a loud crash in the kitchen, followed by a thick wave of disbelief and joy. A heartbeat later, Belle appeared, gripping the kitchen doorframe tightly with one hand, as if to keep herself upright. Or to stop her rushing forward only to find disappointment.
“Mom?” It was little more than an incredulous whisper. After all these years of desperately wishing she could see her mother just one more time, she now feared taking the evidence standing in front of her at face value.
“Yes, my darling girl, it’s me.” Ava’s voice, like Belle’s, was tremulous.
A sob escaped Belle’s lips, then she flew across the room and into her mother’s arms. For several minutes, the two of them just stood there, arms wrapped tightly around each other and sobbing onto each other’s shoulders.
Monty moved around them and walked over to me. He looked decidedly pleased with himself.
“I take it this was your doing?”
He nodded. “We’ve been making arrangements for the last week, but I only got confirmation of her flight details last night.”
“Which was why you were late to pick Belle up,” I guessed. “She wasn’t happy about that, you know.”
He grinned. “So she said, but it was totally worth a few minutes of grief.”
“How the hell did you manage to keep it a secret from her?”
He airily waved a hand. “Ways and means.”
“In other words, you’re not telling in case you have to use the method again.”
“Precisely.”
I snorted. “I take it you picked Ava up from the airport?”
He nodded and leaned against the counter. “I hope you don’t mind, but I said she’d be able to stay in your room now that you’re over at Aiden’s.”
“Good idea.” It’d give them more time together, if nothing else. “Does this mean you haven’t yet gotten the autopsy results from last night’s murder?”
“Yes, but only because they weren’t ready this morning.” He glanced at his watch. “I’m actually due over at the morgue—would you like to come along?”
My eyebrows rose. “Why the sudden willingness to share your job?”
“Have I ever been unwilling to share it? Besides, as the saying goes, more hands, lighter work.”
“I’m thinking that doesn’t apply in this particular case. You’re the reservation witch, not me.”
“Officially yes, but we both know that means jack-squat to the reservation’s magic. I’ve very sensibly come to the conclusion that when there’s the possibility of a death via supernatural means, you might as well be included from the get-go. I’m appointing you my deputy.”
I snorted. “And you don’t have to get clearance from Canberra for this? Or is it very much an ‘off the books’ and unpaid position?”
He slapped a hand against his chest. “You do me great injustice by thinking I’d stoop that low.”
I merely raised an eyebrow. He grinned and added, “In other words, no. I approached both the High Witch Council and the reservation’s council, telling them that—given the supernatural shit that keeps happening here—an assistant position was needed and that you had to fill it—”