Tarot Witch by T. Thorn Coyle

Author:T. Thorn Coyle [Coyle, T. Thorn]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: PF Publishing

17

Cyrus had met us at Costa’s, managing to finagle a window table. The ocean view was spectacular, and one of my favorite things about Seashell Cove.

Costa’s restaurant is at the Seaside Hotel, Seashell Cove’s one slightly upscale place to stay. Most tourists booked a room in one of the guest houses or motels dotting the highway. But if you could afford the views? Why would you stay anywhere but the Seaside?

At least, that’s what Cyrus always said, though why someone who could pop to Paris at will would stay in Seashell Cove in the first place, I wasn’t sure. Regardless, I was glad he now had a home on the fancy outskirts of Portland, so I could easily visit him when I wanted to.

Stefon had his usual local IPA; Uncle Cyrus, a glass of pinot noir; and I was nursing one of my current summer favorites, a Spanish Albariño. When Uncle Cyrus is buying, I get the best. The large windows currently framed a vee of pelicans flying over the ocean, and the ubiquitous kites—bright box kites, dragons, and fish—flapping on the ends of their long strings.

Sunset wouldn’t be for a bit yet, but hopefully, we’d still be here, enjoying dessert as the sun went down.

“Anything happen on the way home?” Uncle Cyrus asked, setting down his glass. Tonight, Cyrus wore a crisp white button-down shirt that I’m sure came from some expensive Italian designer. The sleeves were rolled up to expose the rich brown skin of his arms, and the dome of his head was completely smooth, as always. Stefon wore a plain black T-shirt for once, as did I. They were our concession to dressing up during the summer. I was also trying out a new pair of linen trousers that Stefon said made my butt look great. But then, he said that about everything I wore. It was part of why I kept him around.

I picked up my own glass and sniffed the crisp apple scent of it. “Bunny had a meltdown in the car. I guess Elias Fuller dumped her.”

Something about that still didn’t sit right with me, but since I had nothing concrete to point to, I decided not to mention it. Why muddy the waters with ghostly drama?

Taking a sip, I rolled the wine across my tongue. Outside the window, an osprey plummeted toward the ocean, diving for dinner.

“Oh, and Tabitha confessed that her parents are vampires.”

“That is…interesting.”

“I thought there was supposed to be some sort of magical registry or something. Why are there all these new magical beings in Seashell Cove? Does this sort of thing happen often?”

Uncle Cyrus picked up his glass again and swirled the ruby liquid around the bowl, looking thoughtful.

“It does seem that magical activity has increased in the past year. We’ll have to look into why. Perhaps it’s astrological. But for now? We need to focus on this case. Once it’s done, I can help you interview the magical beings. Take a local census, perhaps. There hasn’t been a proper one done in at least a decade.

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