Lachlan pulled back, looking at Cam with concern. ‘Are you sure we should? What do we do if we actually find it…?’ Lachlan looked past him to the café doors, brow crinkling. ‘Though I am worried about everyone getting home safely.’
We,Cam noted warmly. He knew better than to argue, and besides… he might not admit it, but having Lachlan by his side did bolster his courage. He hadn’t yet dealt with anything too terribly dangerous in his short witching career—save for the Cirein-cròin (which Lachlan had saved him from…) and one will-o’-the-wisp that had successfully tricked him into a bog. At least half his duties only involved pouring salt over fairy rings and replenishing the iron wards dotted across the country.
‘I’ll check through my notes,’ Cam said. ‘If you’re okay to hold the fort down here for a little while?’
Lachlan laughed and squeezed his arm. ‘I think I’ll manage to run my own café by myself for a little while, yes.’ His eyes twinkled. ‘But I’ll miss you.’
Damn those eyes. Cam made a soft noise in his throat and kissed Lachlan fully on his lips, arms sliding tightly around his waist to hug him close. Lachlan’s thrilled intake of breath turned into a quiet moan as Cam’s tongue darted into his mouth. For a few peaceful moments the kitchen and the noise of the café faded away.
When they pulled apart Lachlan was breathless, eyelashes fluttering in a daze. ‘Don’t be too long,’ he whispered.
‘I won’t.’ Cam grinned. ‘I’ll help get the last few breakfast orders out. There’s something I want to check first.’
Lachlan nodded, reluctantly leaving him so they could both wash their hands and return to plating dishes. Cam prepped Bryce’s breakfast roll, adding an extra slice of bacon for a nominal recognition of old time’s sake. Before leaving the kitchen, he pulled out the Walker talisman and slipped the leather cord over his head, tucking the talisman inside his shirt so it sat flush against his chest. Its energy fizzed along his spine as he picked up Bryce’s plate and entered the café.
He paused in the doorway, scanning the entire room with fresh eyes. Looking for any hint of errant magic in their clientele.
Donald and Helen were in heated discussion over something in their corner, while Shona was reading a book alongside her large mug of tea, and at the table next to her the Crawfords squinted over a shared copy of theInverness Courier. The Wild Swimmers were merrily tucking into large, cooked breakfasts and their loud, cheerful conversations rang out as a pleasant background music to the contented air within the cafe.
It was a little slice of magic, this gathering of strangers that felt not so strange any more, and even a little like a family while they were within these walls.
Cam was relieved not to see any traces of magic hanging over them. He’d be devastated if someone like Shona turned out to be a werewolf.
But there was one corner of the café where the iridescent presence of magic was nearly blinding.
He approached Bryce’s table and placed the food in front of him. ‘Grub’s up,’ Cam said gruffly. ‘On the house. Just this once.’
‘You’re a dear,’ Bryce crooned. The pinkish glow of magic warped his face weirdly, bending it out of shape like a fun house mirror.
Cam had known to expect it. Bryce wascoveredin protective charms, from physical amulets to incantations inked on his skin. The man was a walking suit of enchanted armour. It sent haywire signals to Cam’s brain as he tried to process the distorting field of magic which twisted Bryce’s features and made Cam mildly queasy.
‘Where are you going to start?’ he asked, averting his eyes from the mind-bending vision. He took the chance to assess Bryce’s crew up close.
One man was about Bryce’s age, heavy-set with a short crew cut and a scowl that looked permanent. The woman was probably the oldest—older than Bryce—and had the bearing of the leader of the trio, sitting straight-backed in her chair. She stared calmly at Cam with a grim, calculating frown.
The last guy was young, mid-twenties maybe, with a scruff of auburn hair and rope tattoos wrapped around both wrists. Cam nearly missed it because of the overload of visual input coming from Bryce, but there was a tinge of magic to those tattoos, winding around the black ink like a fine thread.
As if he’d sensed him looking, the guy quickly pulled his arms off the table and tugged down his sleeves.
Bryce was halfway through his food already and spoke around a full mouthful. ‘Tha’ hill you pointed out.’ He swallowed. ‘And the woods around. We’ll scout the whole area, don’t you worry. Right lads?’
The group nodded silently.
‘Well… good,’ Cam stalled, trying to get a good look at their bags of gear before leaving the table. He wouldn’t be able to see the traces if they were obstructed from view, but he wascertainthey’d have some supernatural artefacts hidden away in those bags. If they were the real deal. ‘I guess, good luck then.’
‘Don’t need it, lad.’ Bryce flashed a toothy grin. ‘Got skill instead.’
The tattooed guy gave a huff, which sounded derisive to Cam’s ears, but drew no reaction from his companions.
Bryce pushed back his plate, having devoured the breakfast roll at a breakneck pace. He wiped a thumb over the corner of his mouth and scraped his chair away from the table. ‘Ready to move, lads?’
The woman answered. ‘They’ll move when I tell them to.’
Bryce gave her a cool look. ‘And I’m paying you to tell them to move now.’
Cam felt the chilliness in their stare down. Who exactly was in charge, here?
‘Fine,’ the woman said, standing abruptly. ‘Logan, Weed, get up.’
