Twice Cursed (19 page)

Residual tension throbbed between her
shoulders and Lily rubbed at the nape of her neck, careful not to
graze the edge of Sean’s bite mark, again. “So you’ve been stuck
doing grunt work rather than joining in the fun, huh?”

“
I wouldn’t say grunt work,
but yes, Sean put our skills on ice at times. A shifter needs to
exercise his inner animal, or else…” His eyes wandered the length
of her, from the top of her honey-blonde head, over the swell of
her breasts, to her feet and back again. “…he suffers.”

“
Ah, Jack?” she said,
taking a step backward. Either she was right, and he had sensed her
passing spike in heat, or she wasn’t the only one affected by the
approaching moonrise.

He exhaled, rubbing his face with both
hands. “Yeah, yeah. I’m okay. Or at least I will be. Give me a big,
juicy steak, the rarer the better, and I’ll be right as rain. That
and a quick jog before we go,” he said, grabbing his jacket from
the back of the chair.

Lily moved out of his way as he went
past. “All right, but be back in an hour. Our reservations are for
eight-thirty, and they won’t hold them if we’re late.”

With a quick wave over his head, he
was out the door. Lily turned back to the counter to wrap up what
was left of Jack’s sandwich mess. If this was the first night of
the full moon, what was in store for her over the next two
days?

***

As expected, the restaurant was
crowded. Weeknight or not, it didn’t matter, Peter Lugar’s was a
landmark, almost as famous for their gleaming wood interiors and
true gentleman’s bar, as they were for their porterhouse
steaks.

They walked in from the street, and a
wall of warmth, thick with delicious scents, met them by the coat
check. Busy wait staff carried trays back and forth from the
kitchen to the dining rooms, the sizzle of steak following in their
wake.

Jack handed Lily’s long, leather
duster to the coat check, and then met her next to the hostess
stand. Inhaling through his nose, he raised his chin, a silly smile
on his face. “You get thumbs up on this one,” he said. “My mouth is
watering already.”

“
Good, ‘cause I had to call
in a favor to get us this reservation.”

The maître d' coughed, and then raised
his arm gesturing toward the stairs. “Your table isn’t quite ready
yet. Please, feel free to wait in the private bar upstairs, and
we’ll call you when all is prepared.”

Lily winked at the man, and then
followed Jack up to the bar to wait. Sometimes being psychic had
its advantages.

“
What can I get you?” the
bartender asked, as Lily slid onto the smooth, high-backed leather
stool.

“
Merlot, please,” she
answered, placing her bag on the counter.

Jack grinned, swiveling his seat
around to face hers. “Hair of the dog, huh?”

Hmmph. “Not even close. And the whole
canine thing is your gig, not mine. Remember?”

“
Ha. You just keep telling
yourself that,” he said, swiveling back around to face the bar,
signaling the bartender with a quick lift of his chin. “I’ll have a
Sam Adams. Winter Lager if you have it.”

The bartender nodded, giving Lily a
quick wink before he went to get their drinks.

“
What’s with all the
winking? First the guy at the door, and now the bartender, do you
know these people, or is this just part of your natural
charm?”

The bartender put two napkins down on
the counter and then placed Jack’s beer on one, and a red wine
glass for Lily on the other.” You want a frosted glass with that?”
he asked while pouring Lily’s wine.

“
No, I’m good with the
bottle.”

The man nodded once, putting the cork
back in the bottle of merlot. “I couldn’t help but overhear,” he
said to Jack, gesturing toward Lily with his head. “Your friend
here is a very special lady. She really saved our ass last year, if
you’ll excuse my language.”

Jack looked from one to the other, his
eyebrows high.

The bartender put his hand up, his
face as serious as a heart attack. “You have no idea. I never
believed in that sort of thing, you know, ghosts and whatnot. At
least not until I got the royal shit scared out of me one night
after closing. From that point on, to say things got creepy around
here is an understatement. Whatever it was, spirit,
entity…whatever…it raised unholy hell almost every night after
closing, so much so, the owners didn’t know what to do. We all
thought they should call in an exorcist, but they didn’t want to
risk bad press.”

Jack raised his beer bottle in salute.
“So they called you, instead. Nice work,” he said, a ghost of a
smirk at the corner of his mouth.

The bartender shook his head. “Hand to
God, my friend, I don’t know what she did or how she did it, but it
worked,” he said, giving Lily an appreciative smile. “And don’t let
her fool you. She may be tiny, but then so is an M-80.”

Lily patted the bartender’s hand. “I
was glad to help.”

The bartender nodded, sliding his hand
out from beneath hers. “You’re okay in my book,” he said, before
turning to help customers at the other end of the bar.

“
Does Sean know about how
you ‘clean house’?” Jack asked, taking a sip of his
beer.

“
Yes, he does, but we don’t
really talk about it much. The past couple of months have
been…strained.”

Jack’s gaze softened. “That’s an
understatement, but I wouldn’t worry. Things have a way of working
themselves out, even if it’s not how you planned. You just have to
leave yourself open to change.”

“
Change, huh.”

“
Yup.”

Lily considered him. Leave
yourself open to change.
Yeah, okay, Jack.
You’re about as subtle as my .45.

The whole question about her
transformation to full Were was off limits, and he knew it. In the
last two months, she’d had enough change to fill a lifetime, thank
you very much. It was hard enough wrapping her own head around the
idea, let alone trying to explain her hesitance to Sean and Rissa.
Why all of a sudden did Jack feel the need to add his two cents
worth? Well, she wasn’t taking the bait. Until further notice, off
limits meant off limits.

Swiveling her seat around to face the
room, she glanced out the tall windows at the darkened street and
the light rain shimmering in the glow of the streetlights. She took
in the antique sconces set into the original brick walls, the
polished bar and the wide planked floor. The place never changed,
seemingly as at home in the modern world as it was back in 1887
when the restaurant first opened.

In her peripheral vision,
she watched Jack sip his beer, tilting the brown bottle up and then
absently running his thumb over the condensation-wet label. A
shadow crossed his eyes, and for a moment, he wore the same
expression she’d seen on Sean’s face when he was brooding. Perhaps
there was more to Jack’s idea of accepting change than she
thought.
“It’s not always about you,
Lily,”
Terry’s voice interjected at the
back of her head.

“
Ms. Saburi? Your table is
ready,” a waiter interrupted.

Jack threw twenty dollars on the bar
and waited for Lily to grab her purse. They followed the waiter
downstairs to their table at the back of Driggs dining
room.

Conversation filled the cozy setting,
a low buzz hovering just above the sound of clinking silverware and
tinkling glasses. The dining room’s rich, warm décor created an
inviting ambiance, but despite its welcoming appeal, an edgy
tightness had settled between Lily’s shoulders. They ordered their
food, and though Jack managed to shake whatever it was that
temporarily preoccupied him, she, on the other hand, couldn’t shake
the feeling of unease that crawled its way up her spine. Her
‘spidey senses’, as Carl liked to call them, were
tingling.

The house sent a bottle of merlot to
the table, and Lily did her best to smile as the sommelier opened
the wine, but even its smooth bouquet and fruity peppery bite
couldn’t ease the tense feeling. Something was up, only she
couldn’t put her finger on it.

“
You okay?” Jack asked,
watching her face.

“
Yeah, I’m good. I just
have this knot between my shoulder blades that won’t loosen up,”
she said, rolling her shoulders for effect. “The weather always
seems worse on this side of the river, especially in winter. Maybe
it’s the wind.”

Jack snorted. “Right, ‘cause it’s so
much colder and wetter here than on the other side of the
bridge.”

“
What’s that supposed to
mean?”

The waiter brought a basket
of bread and put it on the table with a small silver container of
garlic butter. Jack took one of the long seeded rolls and broke it
half. “It means that comment made you sound like a typical
Manhattan snob.
‘I can't move to Brooklyn,
even cabs won't go there!”
he said in a
high falsetto voice.

Lily’s mouth fell open, and
her eyebrows shot almost to her hairline. “Tell me you didn’t just
quote Miranda from
Sex in the
City
,” she asked, tilting her head to the
side in amused disbelief.

Biting into his roll, he gestured with
the bread in his hand. “Hey, if the high heels fit,” he said,
chewing.

Oh, no he didn’t!
Pulling her foot back, she kicked him hard under
the table.

“
Ow! What was that for?” he
said, dropping his roll on the table.

At his stunned look, Lily burst out
laughing. “You’re kidding me, right? Sticks and stones, Jack, but a
swift kick works like a charm when you want to shut someone to up.
And, by the way, I am not a snob!”

“
Not cool, Lily,” he said,
wincing as he rubbed his shin.

She chuckled, picking up her wine
glass. “Cool? I don’t know, Jack,” she said, shaking her head. “I
don’t think guys are allowed to use that word once they can quote
scenes from chick flicks.”

He straightened up and picked up his
beer. “Are you done?”

She raised an eyebrow at him. “Are
you?”

The waiter interrupted, bringing their
salads. “Your steaks should be out soon. Is there anything else I
can get you? Some fresh ground pepper, perhaps.”

“
No, thanks. We’re good for
now,” Jack replied, watching Lily’s amused face. “How’s your neck,
by the way?”

Lily stopped with her wine glass half
way to her lips. Straightening her back, it cracked a bit, but
other than that, her muscles were as loose as noodles. “Well, well,
well…” she said, smirking.

“
Nothing like a little
adrenaline rush to help you forget about muscle tension,
eh?”

Lily picked up her fork, shaking her
head. “Nice. I can only imagine what you’d do if I needed to scare
away a case of hiccups.”

They sat in relative silence while
they ate. Jack’s humorous detour may have helped relieve the knots
at the back of her neck, but did nothing to alleviate the feeling
of dread that seemed to seep from the walls.

Whatever it was, it lurked on the
periphery of her second sight. With a feather’s touch, she sent her
senses out, tendrils spreading from her consciousness. In New York
City, criminal behavior was never in short supply, and with that in
mind, she searched for anything out of the ordinary. She could feel
the weight of what lurked like a set of watchful eyes, but couldn’t
find its source. Who was watching, and why was it watching
her?

The waiter returned, carrying a large
tray, and Lily reeled herself back in. She’d have time again to
feel out what was eluding her for the moment, but right now, the
tantalizing aroma and telltale sizzle of porterhouse steaks rose
along with the steam from the top of their plates.

“
Bon Appétit,” the man said
as he placed the last side dish on the table.

Wine glass in hand, Lily took a sip,
watching Jack dig into the aged beef, so large it hung over the
edge of his plate. “Enjoying yourself?” she asked, still centering
herself.

“
Mmmhmmm.”

“
Good, I’m
glad.”

Jack swallowed, then picked up his
beer and took a sip, watching her from across the amber colored
curve of the bottle. “You’ve barely touched your food, what’s the
matter? You said things went fine today with Terry’s
parents.”

The waiter filled their water glasses,
and Lily smiled up, when he asked if everything was okay. “Fine,
thanks.” The man put another roll on her bread plate and with a
nod, moved to another table.

“
Well?” Jack
continued.

Lily picked up her butter knife and
slid it into the corner of her roll. “Things went great. In fact,
better than great. Bev and I had a long talk and we both realized
how much we need each other in our lives,” she answered, breaking
the roll in two with her thumbs.

Jack tilted his head, pointing the tip
of his beer in her direction. “You mean you realized.”

Lily shifted slightly in her seat.
“Yes, Mr. Know-it-all…I realized,” she said, reaching for the small
silver butter dish, and scooping some of the creamy yellow with the
edge of her knife. With a couple of quick swipes, she spread the
butter, lifting her thumb to her mouth to lick the excess from her
finger.