I really should have taken up that offer to spend the winter in California.
“I don’t like this recipe,” I tell Lucas as he pulls one up on the iPad. “Whoever wrote this must have a very weak sense of taste or something because that is a lot of pepper. It’s the one you used last time?”
“Yes.” He looks from the recipe to me and back again. “I don’t know if I’ll ever become familiar with what is a normal amount of an ingredient.”
I smile, finding it so damn adorable that he tries to cook for me like this. Since I feed him, he says it’s only fair that he feeds me. “And I don’t really know how to explain it. Though you’ve never tried to feed me a scented candle, so that’s something.”
Lucas starts browning the sausage meat, and I get a can of biscuits from the fridge. I peel it, grab a spoon, and turn away when I press it into the seam. I don’t know why I jump every time the damn can opens, but I do. I put the biscuits in the oven and get out a glass bottle of maple syrup.
“It adds a really good flavor if you season the meat with this,” I tell Lucas as I unscrew the cap. He takes the bottle from me, determined to make most of the food on his own. I plug in my coffee pot, wishing I could have more than one measly half-cup of caffeinated coffee this morning.
“Eliza is calling,” he says, able to hear his phone ringing from upstairs.
“I’ll go get it,” I tell him, standing on my toes to plant a kiss on his lips. “Keep cooking. It’s sexy.”
Going up the back stairs, I get his phone from the dresser. I missed the call by then and don’t call Eliza back until I’m in the kitchen again. Putting the call on speaker, I hold it up in between Lucas and me.
“I was just rudely awoken,” Eliza spits. So much for a hello.
“Uh, you called us,” I say.
“That’s not what I mean.”
“What do you mean?” Lucas asks, stirring the meat around the pan.
“Someone knocked on the door, rather insistently,” she goes on.
“It’s daylight,” I say, looking out the window.
“I know,” she continues. “Luckily, my dessert stayed the night and was able to answer the door. I got a fucking letter.”
“And the issue is you don’t have a pen pal?” I try, looking at Lucas and shrugging. He’s not following, either, and looks annoyed with Eliza’s typical drama.
“Of course I don’t have a fucking pen pal. The letter is for Lucas, and it’s from the VC.”Chapter 24“The VC?” I echo. “Do they usually send letters?”
“No,” Lucas says, turning the burner down. “What did the letter say? And cut to the chase.”
“Basically, you didn’t fill out a change of address form, they know you moved, and they fucking know you got married and are requesting you show up to a meeting tonight to give them more information about your wife.”
My blood goes cold. There’s no way they know he married a witch. I look at Lucas. “We got married legally, though. It was on file.”
“It is on file. I filled out the necessary paperwork, for both the marriage certificate and for purchasing this house. I still own the house in Lincoln Park, and there is no way anyone would know that’s not my primary place of residence unless—”
“Someone who knows me told them.” And now I’m back to feeling like I’m going to throw up again. I didn’t even get so far to put this on my list. “It’s Scott. It has to be fucking Scott.”
“Scott is working with the VC?” Eliza asks, and I can imagine the shock on her face. “The fuck?”
“We don’t know for sure,” Lucas tells her. “It’s a hunch, and one that seems more and more likely as time goes on.”
“Back up,” Eliza says. “Scott hates vampires.”
“I said the same thing,” I say. “But there’s one thing he hates more. Me.”
“I still don’t see how this makes sense.”
“I don’t, either,” I agree. “But that night Roger attacked me at Abby’s house, I ran into Nancy. She knew I was with her, and if someone was looking for me, then—”
“They would look for her.”
“Exactly. And I could have been attacked a dozen times over while I was inside, but they waited until I was out, almost as if they were given orders not to mess with Abby, Phil, or Penny.”
“Well, fuck,” Eliza huffs.
“That sums up how we feel,” Lucas tells her. “Send me photos of the letter. You should come here tonight. I’ll send a car before sunset.”
“Fine, but I’m bringing Sasha. She’s pregnant and due any day now.”
“Awww,” I say, assuming she’s talking about one of her guinea pigs. “There’s gonna be another little mama in the house.”