The Spirit Well by R.K. Ashwick

Author:R.K. Ashwick
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: RK Ashwick Books

Chapter

Fifteen

EMRY

“You threatened him?”

Damir had cornered Emry and Aspen alone in the hotel’s private garden before Karlson’s next rehearsal. Emry thanked Hara that no one else was there to witness the man’s stare—he was fairly certain it had melted the hedgerows behind him.

“We may have”—he cleared his throat—“exchanged some words⁠—”

“I did it,” Aspen cut in, their glare as strong as Damir’s. “He had to know I won’t let him near either of them.”

“But you did it in front of Halleson.” Damir gestured back to the hotel with a frantic hand. “Whether he’s funding Dev or not, you just picked a fight in front of Matlock’s most influential man. If you want to keep Ms. Breslin and yourselves safe, that is not how you go about it.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose and walked in a circle around the garden table, his eyes closed in thought. Today, the table was laden not with pastries but wine bottles—Emry had preemptively brought down a few as an added apology for Karlson. Several of them were overpriced gifts from various admirers, and Emry had grabbed them at random, unsure of what Karlson actually liked.

Damir stopped, looked at the bottles longingly, then thought better of it.

“And Ms. Breslin hasn’t changed her mind about leaving the city?” he asked.

“I’ve already asked her twice. If I ask her again, she’ll order Aspen to bite me.”

“I wouldn’t do it,” Aspen muttered.

Voices floated over the hedge, and Karlson, Sage, and Riley strolled through the archway in their typical moods—Karlson humming, Sage and Riley snipping.

“If I have to hear ‘Farleigh’s Reel’ one more time in my life,” Riley said, “I will throw my drum at someone. My biggest drum. I’ll do it, I swear.”

Sage began to belt out the first verse. “O’er the hill and o’er the dale⁠—”

“That’s it, I’m getting my drum⁠—”

“Children, children…” Karlson lightly chided. His hum lifted into a delighted noise when he spotted the wine bottles. “Wine to go with the pastries? Would my manager approve of such a treat?”

Emry jumped in right away. “We’re so sorry for causing you all trouble last night,” he said. “We didn’t think that Dev would be there⁠—”

Karlson held up a hand. “Please, I’m sure Damir has already admonished you. Besides, I’m a terrible influence.” He grinned. “A little bit of drama before a concert always makes the audience more intrigued.”

He plucked one of the bottles from the table and examined the label. That particular bottle had come in this morning, an elegant red that looked far too dry for Emry’s taste—but he had no idea who was to thank for it. When he’d asked after the accompanying card, the delivery boy had just shrugged and dashed off to make his next run.

“But not to worry,” Karlson continued as he uncorked the bottle. “To ensure Damir doesn’t suffer a heart attack, I already visited with a few witnesses this morning. Did my best to play off the event as a small squabble, nothing worth thinking about.”

“Small squabble,” Riley repeated. “I wanted a decent fight.

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