Page 31 of Last Call at the Doghouse

“And if you scare her off?”

Armi sighed and reached for her cinnamon roll. “Maybe she’ll be better off if I do scare her so badly that she bolts. Who needs to be around for this war you keep warning me about? Why should I put my friends in danger just because I like having them close by? It’s selfish, needy. I should send her and Stella both back to Knoxville or wherever they want to go. I could shutter The Doghouse, maybe even sell it and give them some of the proceeds to start over. Maybe…”

Mitch reached across the table and placed his hand over hers. “Don’t do anything until we know more.” He didn’t toss out the suspicion that Mary Harlow might not be who she seemed to be. Armi was protective of her friends and loyal to them, as they were—as they seemed to be—to her. She wouldn’t take the accusation well.

He could tell she didn’t agree with him; her face told everything. It was clear that since she didn’t know how to handle the situation, she was going to let it slide. Mary was on the back burner for now. Still, he could see the gears turning as if he were in her head.

“You insisted that we stay in Mystic Springs,” she said, changing the subject. “Why? What comes next?”

He smiled at her. “You need an army, Armi. I can’t think of a better place to start recruitment than here.”

CHAPTER 10

Maybe sleeping with Duncan hadn’t been the best idea she’d ever had, but it was far from the worst.

Armi didn’t want to call Mary too early. Doghouse hours meant everyone slept late these days. Besides, she still didn’t know what to say. Would a discussion like this be better face to face? Did she dare to wait?

A delay of a few hours should be ok. More than that? She wasn’t sure.

Fortunately, she didn’t have to be, not for at least a couple of hours. Duncan was determined that they build an army and he insisted they start here. She wasn’t sure how to go about that. Shouldn’t they just sit back and let the pieces fall where they may?

Could one be patient with evil?

School was in session on this mid-September Tuesday, so the crowd on the street consisted of older Springers, a few parents with small children not yet school age, and a handful of adults who looked to be in their twenties and thirties who didn’t have a job to keep them occupied this time of day. They seemed to be headed toward the cafe, the bakery, the library, and the hardware store, though a few were in and out of the boutiques and the antiques store. Business was booming.

There were a number of artists and small business owners in town, so that could account for some of those on the street. Others… she had to wonder if they’d been called here in much the same way she had. Had they been called for good or for… well, not so good?

“How the hell am I supposed to know who’ll be with us and who’s evil? Have the Springers already chosen sides? How will I recognize the right soldiers for this so-called army?” They walked down the sidewalk, moving with purpose toward the end of the street. The library was a place to start, even if they couldn’t unlock the hidden section.

Duncan sighed and then snorted, which was not a helpful response. As they passed an antiques shop window that was filled with both trash and treasures, he said, “I’m not sure. I was kinda hoping something would just come to you once you were here, or we’d find instructions in that damn book. Let’s face it; the energy here is different. It’s like I can feel the magic. Taste it, even.”

The damn book was in her purse, and her purse was with her. She always had a hand on it, as they walked the Main Street sidewalk. No way was she leaving the red book anywhere, no matter how unhelpful it had been so far. Maybe none of the words made sense, but the book was hers to protect. The world? Not so much. One book to safeguard was as far as she was willing to go for now.

Duncan insisted that he’d been sent here to watch over her, but she’d seen no evidence that he possessed even the weakest magical ability. He’d shown her nothing out of the ordinary. He hadn’t mentioned any family gift, but since he was a Springer he should have some magic. Then again, until very recently Armi hadn’t had any to brag about. Talk about a late bloomer…

Her hesitance to trust anyone kicked in. What was Duncan hiding? She asked him that, too.

“Nothing,” he answered quickly.

He was lying. She knew it the same way she knew the September sky was blue. She almost called him on it, but held her tongue.

Mitch Duncan was protective, good-looking, sexy as hell, and great in bed. Last night had been fantastic, and she didn’t regret it. But now she wondered, had he seduced her in order to make her compliant? Did he think she was that naive?

There was a hard bench in front of the ice cream shop, which was closed this time of day. Maybe people sat there to eat their cones and sundaes on warm afternoons. Armi sat, far too full from her huge cinnamon roll to even think of ice cream, and patted the seat beside her. Duncan didn’t seem inclined to stop, but after a moment’s hesitation he joined her.

Instead of diving into the conversation they needed to have about armies and evil and unhelpful magical books, she asked, “Should I call you Mitch? If we’re going to be involved personally as well as professionally, should I keep calling you by your last name? It seems odd.” It made their relationship seem like business, as if they were disconnected.

He smiled. Maybe he was grateful for the change of subject, the non-magical turn in the conversation. “As I said before, you can call me whatever you want. The people I work with call me Duncan. My dad calls me Mitch,” he said. “My mom, too, of course, before she passed.”

“No one else?” She wondered about his wife, but didn’t want to ask. Knowing how she’d died, it couldn’t be a pleasant subject for him. Had his Laura called him by his last name, which was her last name as well? She supposed it was possible. Weird, but possible.

She sensed that her simple question made him uncomfortable. Maybe his late wife had popped into his head, the way it had hers.

“Nope. I’m not close to many people, so… I don’t know.” He stood. “Call me whatever. We’re going to start in the library.” He took her hand to pull her to her feet. “After that we’ll hit the hardware store and the police station. I expect your cousins can help.”

“Maybe,” she said. At that moment a single bird, a small little brown thing she might not have noticed before, flew down from the rooftop and almost brushed her face. She squealed and flailed her free hand. The little bird, which was all alone, flew off unharmed.

“What’s the word for a fear of birds?” she asked.