For some reason I didn’t think it was going to be an issue. Nothing had fazed her yet. I shrugged and popped my waffle out of the second holder. I slathered it with all the good things and sat down on the bar stool across from Pepper. “If she isn’t fine, she’s always welcome to go back to theagency.”
Pepper waved her fork. “Speaking of the agency, why in the world would they give you apuppy?”
“I don’t know about that, but they said they had someone for me.” I paused. “And that he wasdead.”
My friend promptly choked on her waffle. She chugged down some wine and I winced at the combo of maple syrup and Merlot. “Dead?”
I nodded. “I’m assuming they meant a vamp orsomething,”
Pepper’s gaze became predatory. “Or a ghoul?” A smile ghosted herlips.
I snorted. “I thought so at first. But Hank rejected me soundly. He said he didn’t like blondes.” I let one of my shoulders lift and fall in a shrug. “Also, he doesn’t seem to likememuch, either. Regardless of my haircolor.”
“I can’t imagine anyone not liking you, Piper. But you do have a bit of an abusive relationship with yourplants.”
I laughed. “I guess I never thought of it until Hank shamed meyesterday.”
“Plants have feelings too,” Pepper said over a mouthful ofwaffle.
“Well, it’s possible my yard might become the most Earth friendly place in MidnightCove.”
Pepper finished wolfing down her waffle. “You need to incorporate some magical elements. Rosemary by the front gate, Hawthorne to keep outghosts…”
I snorted at that one. “Maybe we will skip the Hawthorne. I don’t want to bebankrupt.”
“Holly for protection and luck.” She waved a hand around. “There’s a lot you can do with this place, but Hank won’t know the lore.” Pepper winked. “That’s where I comein.”
“Pepper -” I began in a warningtone.
“Relax. A whisper to you here and there and he’ll never know I was your puppet master. You need these. I’ve been itching to get you to incorporate certain plants for years. You’re more of an aesthetics person than a magical person. Which, given your proclivity for raising the dead, makes it even moreamusing.”
She was right. My house was cute. It wasn’t magical. And even though I had a bunch of land, my house couldn’t be considered big by any means. It was a cute, three bedroom historical home. Burnished wooden floors glowed with love and care, but the bathrooms were small and the closet space was close to non-existent. When I moved in, the kitchen was so small I had to get special permission from Midnight Cove to upgrade it. I’d replaced the tiny stove with a state of the art Viking, complete with a fryer and double oven. I’d torn out the old formica island and replaced it with a massive one topped with a huge piece of oak that doubled as a butcher’s block. I’d torn out the small cove of old laminate cabinets and replaced them with upcycled wooden cabinets I’d chalk painted and antiqued myself. To keep myself from scratching the paint, I’d made sure to install cabinet handles with a copper base on the back. The kitchen looked farmhouse chic and, based upon the explosion of waffle mess we’d created, well loved. The rest of my house was well loved, too, if not a bit eclectic. And while most of it looked normal, if you knew where to look, you’d find a secret hatch that went down to my tunnels and into what I liked to call my diabolicallair.
Of course, this was me, and there was nothing diabolical about my lair, but if you were a regular human and you didn’t know what I did for a living, there might be some cause for concern. Necromancy wasn’t an innate magic. It took hard work, focus, and a whole lot of practice to ensure properraisings.
In the beginning, some of my work looked more like horror movies than people. It ended up terrifying both me and the person I’d raised. My parents, not being necromancers themselves, helped as best they could, but I ultimately considered myself to be self-taught. The lab, with its beakers and needles and threads and numerous books could be off-putting, but it was the result of years of my hard work and research. Now I was not only the best (forget that I was the only) necromancer in Midnight Cove, I was able to now ensure the raisings I performed looked more like their old selves instead of artificially preserved or skeletal. It was an odd talent and one I couldn’t quite figure out where I’d gotten, but it was both my talent and the results of scientific research that enabled me to do what I didnow.
There were other necromancers scattered across the country and in one of our sister cities, but I was the only one who could bring a flesh and blood, cognizant and aware being back to life. I was proud ofit.
But I did have to agree with Pepper. My research wasn’t exactly clean. I’d gotten my hands dirty with some unimaginable yuck over the years while I honed my craft, so I guess I made sure the other part of my life stayed clean and wholesome. I was a picture ofcontradictions.
“I don’t really need protection here,” I told Pepper, “but I’m willing to let a little bit of magicin.”
She wiped her mouth with a napkin and stood. “Good girl. I’ll email you some things to ask Hank for.” On her way out she waggled her eyebrows. “Let me know if Hank suddenly has a hankering for blondes.” Pepper winked, grabbed her purse, and sailed outside, waving at me as if she didn’t have a care in the world. She didn’t thank me for thewaffles.
She neverdid.
It was like she had some honed sixth sense for knowing when food was going to beavailable.
Margo trotted over and sat beside me while I locked up the house. I reached down and patted her head. “Come on, girl. Let’s get ready forbed.”
I took her outside to do her business, let her sniff some bugs for awhile, and then arranged the blanket on the floor for her to sleep on. She liked it as much today as she did yesterday, as evidenced by her haughty snort. I grumbled at her to get over it as I rummaged through my dresser looking for somepajamas.
When I settled in to bed, I flipped on the lamp I had on my nightstand and picked up my calendar. I had a 9:30 case down at the courthouse. After that was lunch, then two more appointments here at the house. All in all, a relatively easy day. I wrote Hank in for 6 p.m. tomorrow, ignoring the funny little jolt my stomach did at seeing hisname.
“Get over yourself, Helen,” I grumbled to myself as I shut off the lights and snuggled into myblankets.
With a soft woof, Margo agreed withme.
