Bewitched, Blooded and Bewildered by Robyn Bachar Read Free Book Online Page A

morning. Is that okay?” I asked. I wasn’t sure what Simon’s sleep schedule was like, but I assumed like most bloodsuckers he was nocturnal.
    “That’s fine. I’ll let him know,” Mac replied.
    “Thanks, hon. Do you need me to bring anything?”
    “Yeah, can you pick up a gallon of 2 percent milk? We’re almost out.”
    I frowned. For a moment it was like it’d always been between me and Mac—normal, everyday conversation between friends. But it wasn’t normal anymore. Mac was living with an undead librarian, training to become one himself. His whole life had changed because of me.
    I was a crappy friend.
    “Sure, no problem,” I said. “We’ll see you later.”
    “Okay. Go back to sleep.”
    Like that was going to happen. I ended the call and set my phone back on the nightstand.
    “What’s up?” Lex asked.
    “Mac says Simon found something. We need to head over to talk to them later. And Mac needs us to pick up milk. Do chroniclers drink milk?”
    “In tea, possibly. Maybe Simon’s a fan of milk and cookies,” he suggested. I laughed at the thought of Simon St. Jerome, aged vampire librarian, nibbling on a plateful of Oreo cookies while reading a dusty, old spell book. Yeah, not so much.
    Excitement at the possibility of canceling the Zachary Harrison radio station buzzing around my brain meant there was no way I’d be able to go back to sleep, so Lex and I decided breakfast was in order. The scent of coffee and bacon lured Marie out of bed, and she decided to join us. With all of us in the kitchen, plus two dogs and two cats, it was loud and boisterous. I was still getting used to it, after spending the last several years living alone.
    The new real estate agent hated everything. Either there was too much stuff in a room or not enough stuff. It was all “staged” wrong. Now, I knew full well that Lex’s place was decorated like a sports bar. It had a masculine feel, which may be part of the reason why I’d never felt comfortable there. It was fine for a bachelor pad, but we were moving on to a family-appropriate home. Hopefully.
    After taking pages of notes on what needed to be done to the house, we headed out on the long drive to Simon’s. Another problem with Lex’s place was that it was in the middle of nowhere, so far north of the city that we were practically in Wisconsin. On one hand, it was quiet and peaceful and on the Fox River. On the other, driving anywhere took forever, and I was uncomfortable living in a place that didn’t have sidewalks. I was used to having my next door neighbors being a few feet away, not a few hundred feet.
    Back in civilization again, we stopped for milk at the Jewel in Westchester. After that it was a quick drive to Simon’s, and my hands were almost shaking with nervousness. My stomach fluttered as well, and I almost regretted the big breakfast, but I was still a firm believer that pancakes are a good idea, and bacon is always the answer. If nothing else, the fuel dramatically helped the last of my healing, and my aches and pains had almost disappeared. I assumed Zach was feeling all better. The closer we got to the city, the louder our connection became. I tried to block him out, but I knew that he knew something was up, and he was trying to figure it out. He even called me once, but I ignored it and turned my ringer off.
    We turned in to Simon’s driveway, traveled through the trees of the creepy forest surrounding the place, and entered the clearing where his house loomed. The old Victorian used to look like a scene from The Addams Family , but now it was more like Flip This House . Instead of disrepair, there was renovation and restoration, thanks to Mac. As Simon’s new apprentice, Mac had the run of the house, and I knew from experience that Mac was picky about his decorating. Details about the décor could be important in the restaurant industry, as we’d learned in the café after a bad experience with some Pepto-Bismol-pink-paisley