Cole appeared thoughtful. “If I were her, I would’ve shifted into a gust of wind and blown across. No one would’ve seen her.”

  “But you still think she’s innocent,” I said. I could tell from his expression that he was still resistant to thinking poorly of Sylvie.

  He heaved a sigh. “Yes, but I’m not willing to rule her out. We should speak to her ex-boyfriend. See if he has anything to say.”

  “What’s his name?”

  “Deacon. I see him at Nectar sometimes. I don’t really know him, but he seems decent enough.”

  I climbed on the scooter for the return trip to Zone 1. “This is supernatural purgatory, Cole. Everyone’s decent enough until they aren’t.”

  Chapter Eleven

  I spent the rest of the day at 47 Hamilton Street, investigating the contents of my house. There was a wine collection I’d completely missed during my first sweep and shelves of books that I decided I might try to read. I tended to fall asleep when I read, but I’d struggled with insomnia ever since perimenopause kicked in, so I figured books might be my saving grace.

  I thought tonight would be a good opportunity to head over to Nectar. I’d been wanting to go there anyway, and if Deacon was known to frequent the bar, that was even more of a reason to show my face. I tried to call Cole on the disc to let him know my plans, but he didn’t answer. There didn’t seem to be a voicemail option. Knowing Cole, that was by design.

  I changed into one of my new outfits—a light blue top long enough to cover my lumps and bumps and a pair of dark blue ankle-length pants. I’d bought a flat iron in one of the shops and attempted to straighten the frizz.

  The night was beautiful with bright stars and a gentle breeze that rustled the grass. I decided to walk so that I wouldn’t be tempted to drive the golf cart home if I drank too much. Unsurprisingly, I didn’t always make the best decisions after a few drinks.

  I sauntered to the village square where Nectar held a prominent position. Even from the outside, the bar looked welcoming. The entire side of the building was open to the elements and there was an outdoor seating area that overlooked the green.

  I felt dozens of eyes on me as I entered the bar. It was a strange sensation to go from an invisible woman in my world to a curiosity in this one. As I approached the counter, a familiar figure swiveled around on her stool.

  “Hello again, human. I thought I smelled you.” Jules was decked out in a dark purple leather catsuit worthy of a sexy superhero. Her smoky eyes and dark red lipstick completed the look.

  “What are you doing here? Don’t you have your own bar?”

  “I like to come here sometimes and check out the clientele.” She gave an appraising look to a guy rippling with muscles. “Not everyone here bothers to come to Zone 2.”

  I took the stool beside hers. “I’m looking for someone.”

  She cocked an eyebrow. “Oh, yeah? What’s your type? I’ll see if I can find them for you.”

  My brow furrowed. “No, not for a date. I’m looking for someone called Deacon. I need to ask him a few questions.”

  She picked up her glass and downed the rest of her drink. “About Zeus?”

  “Sort of.” I surveyed the bar. “Do you know if he’s here?” Nectar was hopping, so there was every chance he’d decided to join the crowd, especially if he was newly single. Guys never waited around. Someone like Perun was the exception.

  Jules pushed her empty glass across the bar. “Tell you what. I’m feeling magnanimous. I’ll help you with your little interrogation.”

  “I don’t need help but thanks.”

  Jules looked me up and down. “I beg to differ.”

  I exhaled loudly. “I’ve been handling this on my own.”

  “With Cole.”

  “On my own with Cole and it’s fine.”

  “Cole isn’t here and Deacon is a werewolf. Do you have experience with werewolves, human? I think not.”

  “He’s a werewolf who dated Sylvie and, according to her, they had an amicable breakup. I don’t need a bodyguard to ask him a few questions.”

  Jules plucked an olive from a small bowl and cracked the pit between her teeth. “If you’re so convinced that Sylvie was telling the truth, why speak to Deacon at all?”

  She had me there. “Fine. If I let you help, will you leave me alone?”

  “Oh, am I bothering you, little one? My sincerest apologies.” She bowed with a flourish.

  “Just out of curiosity, does anybody like you?”

  Jules’s eyes narrowed to slits. “Watch your tongue or you might lose it.” She pointed across the bar. “He’s there.”

  I craned my neck to see an older man and a younger woman seated at a table. The braids of the woman’s cornsilk hair were wrapped around her head like a crown and she sported yellow wings. The man wore a pale seersucker suit and shirt that was open enough to see tufts of overgrown hair.

  “That’s a werewolf?” I asked. Apart from the excess hair, he didn’t look like the others I’d met.

  “Just because he wears a pretty suit doesn’t mean he isn’t dangerous. Look at me.”

  I observed her leather catsuit. “Yeah. That’s the same.”

  We slid off our stools and strolled over—okay, Jules strutted while I strolled—to Deacon’s table. The vampire tapped the winged woman on the shoulder and jerked her head to the side. The woman didn’t say a word. She simply vacated the chair and fluttered away.

  Deacon smiled. “A fine evening, isn’t it, ladies? To what do I owe the pleasure of such gorgeous company?”

  “I’m Eloise,” I said. “I need to ask you a few questions about Sylvie.”

  Deacon pursed his lips. “I’m afraid I don’t feel like talking about my ex. Stirs the emotions. I’m sure you can understand.”

  Before I could respond, Jules’s boot shot out and kicked back his chair. “Answer the human’s question, furball.”

  Deacon snarled as he returned to an upright position. “Don’t you sass me, Jules.”

  I frowned. “Jules, he said ‘sass.’ You can’t strong-arm someone who uses the word ‘sass.’”

  Jules planted her feet a width apart, ready to strike again. “Says who?”

  “It’s an unwritten rule.”

  Deacon seemed to appreciate my interference. “Jules knows me well enough. She’s just showing off as vampires are wont to do.”

  Fangs protruded from Jules’s mouth. “If I were showing off, I’d be doing more than a simple kick.”

  I slid into the winged woman’s vacated seat. “How about we do this with a little more civility?”

  “Sounds good to me. I’ll have a white wine spritzer,” Deacon said. “And my new friend will have…?”

  “A white wine spritzer sounds delightful,” I said. At this point anything with alcohol was acceptable.

  The hostility drained from the vampire’s body and she reluctantly went over to the bar to order.

  “How’d you get paired up with Jules?” he asked.

  “I didn’t. I got paired up with Cole.”

  A knowing look crossed his face. “I see.”

  “What do you see?”

  “That explains Jules. She’s keeping you close because of Cole. They used to be a thing, you know.”

  “Jules isn’t keeping me close. She didn’t even know I was coming here to look for you.”

  Deacon adjusted his lapel. “Well, don’t I feel special?”

  “You don’t look like a werewolf,” I said.

  His hazel eyes twinkled. “No? What do I look like then?”

  I folded my hands on the table. “If I had to guess, I’d say you look like an accountant from Charleston.”

  He burst into laughter. “I do like math.”

  I cringed. “Okay, there’s something seriously wrong with you. Nobody likes math.”

  “I was an actuary in my mortal life,” he said.

  I banged my hands on the table. “I’m practically psychic! And did you live in Charleston?”

  “Mississippi.”

  “Wow. Werewolves in Mississippi. Who knew?”

  “Where are you from, Miss Eloise?”

  “Chipping Cheddar, Maryland.”

  “How interesting. You know you had werewolves in Chipping Cheddar too.”

  My mouth unhinged. “You know Chipping Cheddar?”

  “All supernaturals in America know your town. There’s a dormant portal there, along with a ridiculous amount of magical energy.”

  “I didn’t know any werewolves.”

  “You did. You just didn’t realize it because you didn’t have the Sight.”

  “I feel like I missed out.” Had any of my boyfriends been supernatural? I guess I’d never know.

  Jules returned to the table with a tray. She set down two white wine spritzers and kept a whiskey for herself.

  “Talk, wolf,” she ordered.

  “Jules,” I said. “Deacon and I are having a nice conversation. Don’t ruin it with your…words.”

  Deacon took a sip of his drink. “What would you like to know about Sylvie and me?”

  “She says that the breakup was amicable,” I began. “That you both agreed you weren’t right for each other.”

  “I wouldn’t go that far,” Deacon said.

  “I knew it!” I tossed back my drink and immediately regretted treating it like liquor. I started coughing and sputtering and felt a hard smack on my upper back. “Ouch!” I twisted to see Jules smirking at me.

  “Sorry. Was that too hard, human?”

  “The breakup wasn’t mutual?” I asked, ignoring her.

  Jules turned her chair around so that she was straddling it. “Do tell.”

  “I thought you got all the news in Bloodlust,” Deacon said. “Bars and salons are supposed to be a hotbed of local gossip.”

  “What happened?” I asked. “She broke up with you?” There was no way a generic werewolf like Deacon ended the relationship. Sylvie was on another level.

  “It seemed sudden to me,” he said. “I thought everything was fine until she started asking me questions about my feelings. Was I happy with her? Did I feel like I’d settled? I knew something was amiss.”

  “Amiss,” I repeated. “Good word.”

  Jules looked at me askance. “Are you critiquing his response?”

  “No,” I said, dragging out the word. “I’m just giving credit for an excellent vocabulary.” I polished off the rest of my white wine spritzer and noticed Deacon watching me.

  “It’s meant to be sipped,” he said.

  “It isn’t tea,” I shot back. “Anyhoo, tell us more about Sylvie. She dumped you because you’re boring. Continue.”

  Deacon straightened. “I don’t think I’m boring.”

  “She went from dating a god like Zeus to an actuary,” I said. “I can understand why she might feel the relationship was lacking something.”

  “Zeus was intolerable,” Deacon said, scowling. His fingers tightened on the stem of his glass. “Sylvie was right to break up with him. He treated her like gum on the heel of his shoe.”

  “Sounds like you might have resentment,” I said. “Maybe even a little anger.”

  Deacon regarded me. “I wasn’t competing with him. Sylvie told me numerous times that she was so grateful to be with someone like me.”

  “Someone without bulging biceps and a gorgeous head of hair?” Jules asked.

  “Yeah. What’s up with that?” I asked. “You’re a werewolf. Shouldn’t you be blessed with lustrous hair?”

  Deacon ran a hand through his thinning hair. “That’s an unhelpful stereotype.”

  “Good news is you won’t lose any more of it here,” Jules said. “Unless you shave it yourself.”

  “Sylvie didn’t mind my hair,” Deacon said. “She appreciated that I was different.”

  “Not enough apparently,” I said. “Or you’d still be together.”

  Jules gave me a nod of approval. “I like your style, human.”

  “You don’t have to keep calling me that,” I said. “I know what I am.”

  “Jules has a habit of seeing everyone as their species,” Deacon said. “You’ll get used to it.” He drank more of his spritzer. “Sylvie felt that we could do better. Find more suitable partners.”

  “Did she offer any specifics?” I asked.

  Deacon rubbed the rim of his glass thoughtfully. “She hates bocce ball and pinochle.”

  “You think bocce ball was a deal breaker?” I asked.

  “I think those were merely examples of our differences,” Deacon said. “She said that we were fine, but that we both deserved better than fine.”

  I agreed with that assessment. Fine was only acceptable when it came to wine and silk.

  “You must’ve been upset,” Jules said. “I bet you wanted to punch something. Go full furry and howl at the moon.”

  Deacon directed his cool gaze at her. “If you’re trying to goad me into admitting I obliterated Zeus, I did no such thing. Besides, I’m a werewolf. How would I have managed it? As strong as I am, I’m not foolish enough to think I could best him in a physical contest and werewolves don’t have the kind of skills that would leave a victim without marks.”

  Jules’s eyes darted to me. “He’s telling the truth. Zeus wouldn’t drop dead just because Deacon punched him.”

  There were no claw marks on the body either. No signs of an attack. “Well, villagers seemed to think I was capable of killing him by landing on him,” I countered.

  “Because you fell from the sky,” Deacon said heatedly. “The physics alone…” He trailed off. “Nobody wants to hear about the physics, do they?”

  “Not really,” I said.

  “Nope.” Jules stood and twisted her chair back to its normal position. “I guess you’re off the hook, wolf.”

  “Where were you the morning of his unfortunate demise?” I asked.

  Deacon sighed gently. “Does it matter?”

  “An alibi would help us rule you out for sure,” I said.

  Deacon fiddled with his napkin. “I was in Zone 2.”

  “Where?” I pressed.

  Deacon’s hand squeezed the napkin. “Why does it matter where? I wasn’t in Zone 1 and that’s what’s important.”

  It didn’t take a seasoned detective to know the werewolf was hiding something. “Where were you, Deacon?”

  “Outside Sylvie’s house,” he mumbled.

  A cackle tore from Jules. “You’re stalking your ex? It doesn’t get any lamer than that.”

  “Lamer, or any more lame?” I queried.

  Jules pulled a face. “Enough.”

  “I was worried that she was seeing someone else,” Deacon admitted. “I wanted to see for myself.”

  “So you parked yourself outside her house in the wee hours of the morning?” I asked.

  “Makes sense,” Jules said. “Either she’d be coming or some dude would be going.”

  Something gnawed at me. “Why do you think she’s already dating someone? You only broke up recently.”

  “She’s one of the Green Ladies,” Jules answered for him. “They may look elegant and sophisticated, but they like to get down and dirty as much as wolves do.” She winked at Deacon. “Isn’t that right, furball?”

  Deacon stared at the table. “I hate the idea of her moving on so quickly.”

  “And did she?” I asked. According to Sylvie, she was home alone that morning. Maybe Deacon would report something else.

  “I didn’t see any movement,” Deacon said. “I finally left.”

  “Was this a general fear or did she say something that made you suspicious?” I asked. I remembered breaking up with Tim McPherson and telling him that I didn’t deserve him, that he needed someone who needed him or some malarkey. In truth, I’d already moved on with Bill Quincy who--no surprise—turned out to be a complete loser. Like attracts like, my stepmom had said. She never wasted an opportunity to disparage me to my face. If she spoke at my funeral, I was going to be so pissed.

  “It was the way she broke up with me,” Deacon said. “It seemed so sudden. I wondered if maybe there was someone else.”

  “Just because it seemed sudden doesn’t mean she wasn’t thinking about it for months beforehand,” Jules said. “Sylvie is a gentle soul. She probably didn’t want to hurt your feelings and finally realized there was no way around it.”

  Deacon pressed his lips together. “You’re right. That’s exactly Sylvie.”

  “That’s a far cry from the supernatural that used to hang victims over waterfalls for laughs,” I said.

  Deacon gave me a pointed look. “We all have moments in our past we’re ashamed of. That doesn’t mean we lack the capacity to become better supernaturals.”

  Jules licked her lips. “What’s a moment in your past that you’re ashamed of, wolf? I’d love to hear the details.”

  His expression clouded over. “That’s quite enough, Jules.”

  She tossed her black hair over her shoulder and laughed. “Fair enough. I have so many skeletons in my closet, they’re in danger of pushing open the door.”

  “If your skeletons were that numerous, you wouldn’t be here,” Deacon said.

  Jules fell into a contemplative silence.

  “What do you think about Hera?” I asked.

  Deacon strangled a laugh. “What do I think of her? That’s a dangerous question.”

  “It’s not like she can hear you,” I said.

  He arched an eyebrow, seeming to question that statement. “I don’t have particularly strong feelings about Hera either way, but I hate how she treats Sylvie.”

  “It sounds like Hera isn’t particularly nice to any of Zeus’s girlfriends,” I said.

  “No, but she’s been savage to Sylvie,” Deacon said. “Even after Sylvie left Zeus, Hera kept up her pact of aggression.”

  “How?”

  “She would make sure that Sylvie was excluded from major events,” Deacon said. “The fact that she and I went to a party a few weeks ago where both Hera and Zeus were present was nothing short of a miracle.”

  “I heard Sylvie stuck to Zone 2 just to avoid running into Hera,” Jules said.