Violet snorted. “Don’t worry. She must’ve spotted a vagrant.”

“Don’t be an ass,” I told Violet.

“What? I’m being serious. She loves taking care of the homeless.”

Charlie sidled up to get a plate next to her. “We know. It’s just that everything that comes out of your mouth makes you sound like a bitch.”

That was true. Violet sounded snarky even when she didn’t mean to. It was kind of shocking she and Clara were twins. Yes, they were pretty identical in skin tone, eye color, and shape—though Clara was thinner—but their differences were huge and drastic. If they hadn’t been split from the same egg, you’d never know they were sisters.

While everyone was filling their plates and finding a seat, I peeked out the window as Clara stepped lightly up to the tall, lean guy leaning against the corner of the bakery, Queen of Tarts, which was closed today. He watched her approach, taking a long drag on a cigarette. I’d seen him around plenty.

“She’s asking a grim to Thanksgiving dinner?” I murmured to Jules who watched with me.

“Apparently.”

“That’ll be interesting.”

Clara talked animatedly, using her hands, the way she always did. Though I couldn’t see her face, I was sure she was beaming a smile up at him. The guy, his black bangs hanging in his face and almost covering one eye, just watched her, smoking his cigarette. Clara took her time with her spiel, probably about how we liked to welcome anyone, including strangers, to our table for Thanksgiving. Hell, she might’ve given him a mini history lesson on the pilgrims and the Native Americans, an idealistic version for sure, and how it was our civic duty to welcome all the lonely wanderers of the world to our table. Nothing would please Clara more than to feed all the hungry people in the entire world.

The grim watched her, focused but casual, still leaning against the brick building, his cigarette dangling loosely in his fingers. Clara was still going and apparently even laughed at something she’d said, not in an embarrassed way, because she didn’t embarrass easily, but in a isn’t-that-funny kind of way. The guy looked up the street, blowing smoke to the side, and then said something with his head turned before meeting her gaze again.

She nodded and gestured with her hands as she talked then gave him a little wave and skipped back across the street, the traffic practically non-existent today. He watched her make her way back to the bar, then dropped his cigarette and crushed it with his boot before he sauntered in the opposite direction, hands in pockets.

“No grim reaper this year,” I whispered to Jules.

“Thank God,” she replied, joining me to get our plates, the last ones besides Clara. “Two werewolves is all I can handle at the moment.”

I shot her a dirty look but caught the smirk she was trying to hide. “Admit it. Mateo is a nice guy.” I spooned an extra-large helping of the oyster dressing. It was to die for. “Except when he’s reacting to a wicked witch’s spell.”

“Except for that.” She sighed, scooping some of the tangerine-cranberry jelly for her marble rye roll. “Ruben texted and said he’s found a copy. He should have it within the week.”

“A week? Why so long?”

“Apparently, it’s with a witch who lives in the Carpathian Mountains. A healer. One of the vampire covens there knows her really well. But she lives off the grid, so he’s sending one of his men in to find her and get the book. And it’s dangerous, so…” She shrugged a shoulder.

“Dangerous how? Does she practice blood magic?”

“No, not her. She’s a healer, Evie.” I should have known better. Healers couldn’t channel their magic if they dabbled in the dark arts because their magic came from the earth. Healing magic was inherently good. “The Carpathian Mountains are full of other covens and a rough pack of werewolves. Not the kind who follow rules.” She glanced over at the table. “Not like your Mateo.”

My heart fluttered at her compliment. My Mateo.

I forked a slice of the roast turkey onto my plate. “So Ruben has to send in someone who can fight a pack of werewolves? For our book?”

“He said he has a guy.”

“Damn. Sounds like a scary guy.”

“A very skilled one, according to Ruben. Anyway, if all goes well, we’ll have the book soon.”

I eyed Mateo who was laughing at something Nico said. “Good. That’ll be before the next full moon. Hopefully.”

Clara dinged her spoon on a glass of white wine where she was standing next to Miriam who was seated next to JJ, getting her flirt on. The murmur of voices and clanking of silverware died down as I took a seat between Mateo and Nico. It didn’t escape my notice that Violet had forced Elsie to switch places with her so she was no longer right next to Nico where he’d put himself.

“First, I’d like to thank my sister Jules for preparing this amazing meal for all of us.” A chorus of cheers went up. “But I’d also like to continue our tradition of going around the room and sharing one thing you’re thankful for.”

“Come on, Clara.” Violet groaned. “Must we do this every year?”

“Yes. We must.” She raised her chin and glared at her twin. “But since Violet likes to moan and groan about this tradition, I thought I’d compromise to ease her pain a little. Let’s share in only one or two words something you’re most thankful for this year.”

“That’s easy,” said Mitchell. “New jobs.”

Jules smiled and raised her glass to him across the table. “New employees,” she added.

“Hey! Wait a minute,” said Sam, gesturing to himself.

“And old ones,” she added. A few laughs rounded the table.

“New friends,” said Nico with a tip of his glass to the table.

“And old ones,” added JJ, smiling at Charlie.

“To best friends,” said Mateo next to me, his hand sliding under the table, long fingers wrapping my thigh.

My mouth went desert-dry as he snagged my gaze, intense expression holding me captive, his large hand squeezing my leg. Without a glance at the table, I repeated dumbly, “To best friends.”

I think someone laughed at us, and yeah, everyone kept talking, adding their words of thankfulness. But I didn’t hear a damn thing. I was lost. Completely and utterly lost in the beautiful brown depths of Mateo’s eyes, the insanely compelling expression on his face, the tummy-twisting strokes of his fingers up and down my leg. Even in jeans, I could feel the heat of him, the magnetic pull of his touch, of his gaze, of his body, of his mind, heart, and soul. It was true. He’d caught me. Reeled me in with kind words and soft touches and hard kisses. And it wasn’t enough. I wanted more. I wanted it all. I wanted everything.

Yes, I was thankful for my sisters, for the roof over my head, for the blessings in my life. But most of all, I was thankful for one thing and one thing only. And he currently had his hand wrapped around my thigh and his will wrapped around my heart. I knew then and there that he’d put the most powerful spell of all on me. The one that launched a thousand ships and waged wars and toppled kingdoms. The one that compelled kings to forsake their oaths for a woman. The one that would beguile me to do anything—anything—for him. I recognized this emotion for what it was and tried not to tremble as it swept through me on a tidal wave.

I gulped, forcing myself to stuff this Michelin three-star meal into my mouth, hoping he couldn’t somehow detect what had just happened. It was wonderful and terrifying at the same time. What if he didn’t feel the same way?

“What is it?” he whispered close to my ear, his lips brushing the sensitive shell.

I shivered. “Nothing. Just…happy you’re here.”

“There’s no other place for me to be,” he said, his hand still possessively on my leg.

“Good,” I said to my plate, unable to look at him right now. My emotions were raw and swirling.

Then his lips brushed my cheek before he pulled away. A simple kiss. Nothing sexual or intense. But at the same time, it felt…permanent. Like he knew where his lips belonged. On me. Somehow, that eased the tension in my spine, enough that I could hope—maybe, just maybe—his feelings were falling in the same direction.

Chapter 29

~EVIE~

“Clarissa said that she wasn’t well-versed in witch sign either,” said Jules, “but she knew two of them. The bridge sign was a sort of gateway symbol, typically used to combine spells. That’s why she said this one was so complex. The spell put on Mateo is actually layered.”

“You mean, more than one?” I asked Jules as we crossed Canal Street, one block from the parking garage to the Roosevelt Hotel where the Guild cocktail party was being held. Clara and Violet walked a few paces behind, laughing about something. The traffic buzzed by, the city even more alive at night.

“Yes. The bridge symbol locks them together. The other sign she recognized was that infinity-looking one. Do you remember it?”

I clenched my black clutch to my stomach. “It was all over his chest.”

“She said that can mean eternal life.

“Like immortality? I thought that was impossible.”

Her brow pursed together. “I did, too. Maybe this witch, whoever he or she is, found a way. Or thinks they did.”

“What the actual fuck, Jules? This makes absolutely no sense for Mateo to have immortality and death signs all over his body!”

My voice bounced off the high rises framing us as we walked up Roosevelt Way. My anger and frustration was obviously boiling over. Someone had serious ill intent toward this man I cared about so much it was hard to breathe air in the same room as him, and I was a goddamn hex breaker who couldn’t help him. It was driving me nuts!

Jules linked her arm with mine for comfort, her skin to skin contact calming me. We’d both decided to leave our coats at home. It was chilly but not so much we’d freeze in the short walk to the hotel in our cocktail dresses. Jules had opted for a deep red, skin-tight chiffon dress that hit her at the knee, giving her petite size the illusion of height. What wasn’t an illusion was the undeniable killer body my oldest sister had, which she typically hid under chef coats and baggy pants.