Anathema (Causal Enchantment #1)(16)

“Coffee would be great, but only if you have a pot made already,” I said.

“But of course, mademoiselle! Anything for you. Leonardo?” Viggo snapped his fingers. The gentle old man suddenly appeared, shuffling over to an elaborate machine on the counter.

“And I’ll have whatever you’re having,” I added. “No needed to go to any extra trouble.”

“Oh, we’ve already eaten,” Viggo said, flashing a pearly white smile. “Speaking of which,” he yanked the newspaper out of Mortimer’s grasp, “Sofie, did you see that article on the quadruple homicide in this morning’s newspaper? Japanese mob. They likely deserved it; however … a little excessive, wouldn’t you agree?” He smiled knowingly at her. He must be a lawyer. Bizarre segue, though. Why would he—

“Besides,” Mortimer interjected, throwing his partner a look of unimpressed shock, “Viggo wouldn’t be cooking. The pan is for theatrical effect. He’s a complete buffoon in the kitchen. He almost burnt it down once and has since been banished.”

“Sadly, that is true,” Viggo admitted, pouting.

I giggled, looking around the state–of–the–art kitchen. Surely it had to be any chef’s dream, with its industrial–sized stainless steel appliances and stone countertops.

“Here you are, dear,” Leonardo said, gently placing a mug of hot coffee in front of me. “And while you’re deciding on breakfast—” His other hand magically produced a double–helping slice of chocolate cake, slathered with chocolate icing and colorful sprinkles.

Nostalgia slapped me across the face, pulling me back to my childhood. My mother used to serve me the same breakfast on my birthdays, sprinkles and all. It had been one of many traditions that died with her.

Until now.

“I guessed at the flavor. And the sprinkles,” Leonardo quickly admitted. “That’s what you kids are eating these days, right?”

I nodded, unable to speak.

“Lucky guess,” Mortimer said, fixing Sofie with an unreadable stare.

Sofie sipped her tea, the corners of her mouth turned up in a devious smile.

“How are you feeling, Evangeline? Did you sleep well?” Viggo asked.

I faltered, instinctively touching the sizeable bump near my temple. “Yes I did. Thanks.”

“That wasn’t a convincing response. We can provide you with a different room or bed if you’d like,” Viggo offered, concerned.

“Oh no, the room and the bed are perfect! It’s … well, it’s silly. I had a dream. More a nightmare.”

Mortimer stiffened in his seat. “What about?” His gruff voice was suddenly two octaves higher than usual.

“It was nothing, really. I was in the woods and there was a drowning. An attempted drowning.”

“Details, please. I’m somewhat of a dream interpreter,” Viggo said. He leaned against the counter, resting his strong, square jaw in the palm of his hand. “From the beginning—don’t leave anything out. You never know what’s important.”

“Alright, I guess,” I agreed, suddenly self–conscious as the three of them stared intently at me. Even Max perked his ears. I began describing the forest and the river and quickly found myself pulled back into the stark reality of the night. They interrupted frequently with questions.

“You saw that same statue in your dream?” Sofie asked.

I nodded.

“And this … Jethro—he could hear your heartbeat?” she continued.

“Only when it was pounding, I think.”

“That silver rope—that sounds horrendous!” Viggo said when I described the flimsy cord that had somehow effectively bound Amelie.

“Describe these people again,” Mortimer instructed, his expression grim.

I described the group a second time, careful not to emphasize my pathetic infatuation with Caden, though I’d have been curious to hear Viggo’s interpretation of that part.

“And you’re sure no one … hurt you in any way?” Mortimer probed.

I shook my head, and remembered the pendant. “Caden said this necklace saved my life somehow. I don’t know … it was bizarre.”

Viggo eyed the pendant. “Did it do anything strange?”

“Yes! It shimmered in a reddish–orange color. Like a sunset. And it was hot. Does that mean anything?”

“It means you had quite the dream. And you remember it with such clarity, you’d think it was real,” Mortimer answered, smirking. “How is that bump?” He reached over, his hand roughly stroking the side of my head. I flinched. “Ah—that’s a nasty welt. But you should be all right. We’ll get you a helmet to sleep in.”

He turned away. “Sofie, you and I have some business to attend to. Max, why don’t you take Evangeline out to the atrium?” Mortimer’s voice had turned unnaturally light and airy, as if he were hiding something.

“Of course, Mortimer,” Sofie said, responding with a sweet smile. Their eyes exchanged a silent message.

5. Veronique

“Do you know what Sofie needs me to do, Max?” I asked the giant beast as we strolled along a path in the atrium, my arm hanging over his back. “No, of course you don’t. I don’t either, but so far, this trip has been one giant fairy tale.” I stooped to pick a sprig of lavender and inhaled deeply, relishing its comforting fragrance. “It’s got to end sometime soon, I suppose. I’m going to miss you, though, Max.” I played with one of his cropped ears. He groaned in response, giving me a quick lick on the cheek. Such a deceiving appearance for a big suck.