Amy explained the investigation she and Spencer had conducted the previous day, skirting around the fact that they had been followed. Stacy’s face darkened, but she said nothing. Amy continued sharing what had happened at the warehouse. She tried to downplay it at first, but Stacy pulled every detail from her.
Stacy didn’t seem happy, but all she said was, “I’m glad you’re okay. Both of you.”
Amy gave a half-smile. “I’m glad Spencer went home after he dropped me off. Imagine my reaction when I saw the front hall. He would have had a ton of questions, and I doubt you would have wanted to answer them.”
“If this keeps up, Spencer will have to learn the truth,” Stacy confessed. “If you’re attacked by a werewolf…”
“Spencer will think it’s a giant, hairy man?”
“It’s not that. I want him to know how to handle one.”
Amy finished her account by informing Stacy of the files she’d found. “I haven’t looked through them yet, though. I came home and went straight to bed.”
Stacy told Amy what had gone on at the house, from the werewolves showing up to the estate’s guardians helping them fend off the attackers. Amy chuckled at the image of angry gnomes flying their fists into werewolf faces. However, she sobered by the end and was as certain as Stacy that Victor had sent the pack.
“Funny,” Amy mused. “I got an email from my boss this morning. Apparently, Victor Corbinelli is holding a gala for some art event, or so he says, this coming weekend and has invited several journalists and media outlets to attend. I don’t know what he has planned, but he wants it to be public. For word to get around. My boss wants me to go, though he was vague about whether Victor invited me specifically.”
Stacy didn’t like the sound of that. “It’s some ploy of his. No doubt he’ll be going after you and anyone else close to me.”
“Maybe this is the chance we need,” Amy replied. “A way to strike back.”
“I don’t like the idea of ‘striking’ on Victor’s territory, but maybe you’re right. Can you find out more about the event?” Stacy asked.
“I think so. I know someone who will be catering the event and will meet with me today. Spencer will be there, too. I hope to figure out more about it then. Eventually, I’ll go through those files.”
Stacy squeezed Amy’s hand. “I hate the idea of you being in danger, but I’m grateful for the work you’ve done.” She stood, sighing. “While you do that, I’ll get my house in order.” She turned her gaze to the back door. “Time to call Dad.”
CHAPTER TEN
“She should be here by now,” Amy murmured after checking the clock on her phone for what felt like the tenth time in the past fifteen minutes.
“She might be held up in traffic,” Spencer replied from where he sat in the next booth over.
Amy hadn’t wanted it to be obvious that she’d come with a bodyguard, so she and Spencer sat in separate booths with their backs to one another.
She glanced out the window at the busy New York street. Traffic was as heavy as ever. The inside of the café bustled with activity. The clatter of dishes and cutlery joined low chatter and the occasional hiss of boiling water for tea or the gurgle of a coffee machine.
Amy loved being in the city, but she didn’t miss living here. She’d take hearing birds and soft wind in the morning over cars honking and people yelling. Even the sprites who sometimes awakened her by dancing on her face were less annoying than the clamor of the city.
She picked up a small mug of her favorite cappuccino and drank, remembering how she and Stacy had come here to meet up. That had only been a few short months ago, yet it felt like forever had passed since they spent their days avoiding the goons Lenny sent to follow them. Now, whenever they wanted to talk, they curled up on the living room sofa.
Meeting Kiera and Miles had been good, and she hoped the place would be cleaned up when she reached home later. There were several benefits to magic. She kept this to herself, though. Not that she would have had time to tell Spencer because the door jingled with the sound of someone entering, and Amy recognized the woman.
“Hello, Andrea. Thanks for meeting me.”
The middle-aged blonde woman gave Amy a weary smile and sat on the other side of the booth. “No problem. I’m being worked like a plow horse, so I’m glad for a break. Mr. Corbinelli’s event planner called me early this morning, demanding I clear my schedule for this weekend. You can guess what I’ve been up to since. I need the whole menu decided and mapped out by the end of today!”
Amy and Andrea first became friends about a year ago when Amy started her journalism job in the city. Andrea owned a catering company that often worked events held by high-profile city residents. On one particular occasion, Amy had attended an event to write about the food, and she’d spoken to Andrea at length. They’d been friends ever since.
That was one thing Amy had done since starting her job. Try to make friends and connections wherever she went. “You never know when it will come in handy,” she’d told Spencer on the way here.
Spencer was in the adjoining booth, reading a book and sipping coffee. At least, that’s what it looked like. Amy knew he was listening to her and Andrea’s every word.
Amy knew where the event would be held and at what time, but she wanted to know the ins and outs. The trick was asking Andrea to tell her everything without making the woman suspicious. The fewer people who knew what sort of investigation Amy was involved in, the better. She didn’t want to put anyone else in danger.
“I only ask these questions so I can make the best use of my time while I’m there. I’d rather avoid the crowds going in and out,” Amy explained. “Since you’ve catered this place before, can you tell me the best entrances and exits?”
Andrea was more than happy to do so. She shared that the downstairs kitchen entrance would be an easy way for Amy to get in since the only other people there would be herself and the catering team.
“My boss was vague about what exactly the event was,” Amy went on. “I suppose the invitation was vague, too. Do you know what the purpose of it is?”
Andrea laughed. “Mr. Corbinelli loves being mysterious. It’s one thing that makes him so alluring.”
Amy tried not to roll her eyes. “Alluring” was not the word she would have used.
“Some call him our generation’s Gatsby. His parties are often lavish, over-the-top events. This one has to do with art. An auction, perhaps. Something to do with the passing of his personal lawyer and friend Leonard Dubois. A sad thing it is. The two men were close.”
Amy stiffened but tried not to show her true thoughts on her face. She and Stacy were certain Lenny had died because Victor commanded it. Or he’d killed the lawyer himself. She, for one, didn’t consider anyone she’d like to kill a “friend.”
Whatever Victor was doing this weekend, it was a cover for his true operation. She thanked Andrea for the information.
“No problem. Maybe I’ll see you there, though I’ll be quite busy. I’m sure you will be too, Amy. Writing your articles and all.”
“Yes,” Amy mused. “Writing my articles.”
The women fell into idle small talk, then Andrea said she should be heading back to work. With her guest departed, Amy and Spencer left the building and headed to the car. Inside, Amy smiled at him. “Ready to go to a gala?”
She wondered if she was walking into a trap, but maybe she and Stacy could spin this to their advantage.
