Miss Frost Ices The Imp: A Nocturne Falls Mystery (Jayne Frost Book 2)

by Kristen Painter

  “Save the small talk,” she snapped as she turned around.

  I raised my brows but followed her as she swanned past Greyson. She led us into the kitchen. It was one of the few rooms in the house that still had furniture in use. At least on this floor.

  She faced us, but her gaze was on the shopping bag hanging off my shoulder. “I understand you have my box.”

  I was dying to know how Greyson had gotten us in, but that would have to wait. “I bought a box from your estate sale, yes.”

  “Bryn told me you’d be bringing it tomorrow morning, so I expect you brought it tonight. If not, this conversation is over.” She glared at Greyson. “No matter what you think you’re owed.”

  “She has the box,” he answered. “But we want answers first.”

  Hard to believe Francine’s frown could deepen, but it did. “What kind of answers?”

  Greyson moved closer to me. “What’s in the box?”

  “A little magic. Nothing for you to be concerned with. Now hand it over.”

  Greyson didn’t give up that easily. “What kind of magic?”

  A moment of silence was followed by a long sigh of exasperation. “I don’t know. I bought it sight unseen with only the promise that it held something of reasonable power. That happens in my business sometimes.”

  “Your business?” I asked. “I thought the shop was closed.”

  “It is. But I still have clients that I acquire for. It’s enough of a business for me.” She lifted her chin. “More than I need, actually. And it will allow me to leave this house and this dreadful town behind and start a new life.”

  “So you don’t know what’s in the box?”

  She shrugged at me. “I only know it’s what my client wanted and I brokered the deal. Bryn put the box out for sale not realizing what it was. Then she lost your receipt and we couldn’t find you, so you bringing the box to me is appreciated. That’s the only reason I’m willing to share as much as I have.”

  Greyson gave me a short nod. I opened the tote bag and pulled the box out, gripping it in my hands. I’d stuck the lid back on as tightly as possible on the way over. I wasn’t sure it would pass as being unopened, but it also didn’t matter. At some point we were going to have to get around to the fact that the lid had come off.

  Greyson crossed his arms. “You’re lying. You know more.”

  Francine huffed. “How dare you come into my house and accuse me—”

  “What’s in the box, Francine?” Greyson tipped his head toward it. “Or should we just open it now and—”

  “No!” She lifted her hands. “You can’t let it out or…”

  “Or what?” he asked.

  She sighed and stared out the back window for a moment before facing us again with a brand new scowl. “Just give me my damn box.”

  Greyson shook his head slowly. “It’s not yours anymore and it’s already been opened.”

  Her jaw practically unhinged and she blinked in disbelief. Then she started forward, her hands clenched into fists. “You stupid girl.”

  Greyson snarled and stepped in front of me, his posture defensive. “Don’t take another step toward her, Francine, and don’t talk to Jayne that way.”

  Francine’s lid looked like it was about to come loose. “She doesn’t know what she’s done. What she’s set free.”

  “Then tell her.” Greyson’s voice held a gravelly command.

  “That is why we’re here,” I said over his shoulder. “And I didn’t open it on purpose. My cat knocked it off a table.”

  She took a step back, but the squall in her eyes remained.

  Greyson relaxed a little, moving to stand beside me again.

  Francine twisted her hands together. “There was an imp in the box.”

  “I knew it,” he muttered. “What kind?”

  “A chaos imp. At least, that’s what I paid for.”

  I glanced at the box in my hands. “That explains what’s going on in town. How do I get it back in the box?”

  Francine’s laugh screeched out of her with no real humor attached to it. “I have no earthly idea. That wasn’t my responsibility. I’ve told you all I know.” She glared at Greyson. “Satisfied?”

  “Not hardly. Why don’t you tell us who the client was? And how we can get in touch with them?”

  Francine lifted her chin. “I don’t release my client information. Now I would like to go to bed.”

  I huffed out a breath. “I guess that will do. For now.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Not for now. For good. I don’t know anything else. Except that it’s time for you to leave.”

  I was frustrated, but further conversation with Francine felt pointless. I stuck the box back in the tote bag as Greyson and I left.

  We got back in his car and headed for my apartment. He was almost simmering beside me.

  So I stated the obvious. “You’re not happy.”

  “She’s lying about something.”

  “You think she knows how to get the imp back in the box?”

  He shook his head. “No. I think she’s telling the truth about that. But there’s more to this. I can feel it.”

  “How did you get her to let us in?”

  He sat back, his shoulders dropping. A little smirk played across his mouth. “I told her that if she didn’t let us in tonight, I’d tell the Ellinghams that she was dealing in relics.”

  “Relics?”

  He made a face. “The bones and teeth of supernaturals. They demand a high price in certain circles. Namely, those that practice the darker magics.”

  “Like the people who use the underweb?” I’d learned about that particular dark corner of the Internet when the shop employees had gone missing.

  “Exactly. I wouldn’t be surprised if the underweb is how she finds most of her clients.”

  I grimaced. “I don’t really want to know any more about that.”

  He laughed. “That’s the right response.” He turned onto my street. “I’m sorry we couldn’t find out more from her.”

  “We know what was in the box now, though. That’s kind of a big thing. With that info, we should be able to figure out what it will take to get it back in. But…” I thought for a second as he parked outside the warehouse.

  “What?”

  “This chaos imp strikes me as a pretty specialized sort of magic.”

  “It is.”

  “And that kind of highly specialized magic would be very expensive, wouldn’t it?”

  He turned toward me. “Very. I would think.”

  “So whoever was buying this imp from Francine probably paid a lot of money for it. Money he or she is going to expect to be returned if no imp is produced.”

  He nodded. “Francine’s going to have to come up with that imp or return the money, and judging by the paperwork I saw on the kitchen counter, she’s already spent it.”

  “What paperwork?”

  “A copy of a real estate contract for a condo in North Carolina.”

  “Wow.” I slumped in the seat. “This could get ugly.”

  “Uglier, you mean. And yes, it could. But you let me worry about Francine. I’ll tell the Ellinghams what we’ve found out and they can help us keep an eye on her. All you need to do is find out how to get that thing back in the box and this town put right again.”

  “Oh well, if that’s all.” I rolled my eyes. “If it’s okay with you, I’m going to bed. It’s been an interesting evening, but I still have breakfast with Birdie first thing tomorrow. Although I guess I could text her that our meeting is off.”

  “No, go to breakfast. Let Birdie in on what you’ve found out too. Then put her to work to find someone who can tell you how to recapture an imp.”

  “Okay. Thanks for the pizza. I guess I’ll see you later?”

  He took my hand and pressed a kiss to my knuckles. “I’ll let you know the minute I find out anything new. And you do the same.”

  “I will.”

  “Good. And then when this
is all over, we’ll have a proper night out at Claude’s. What do you say?”

  “I say that sounds great.”

  He leaned in and kissed me, soft and sweet and a little apologetic. Maybe because our evening hadn’t gone as planned. But being responsible for a chaos imp running rampant in town had to take precedence.

  I got out, made my way up to my apartment and crashed, exhausted by the night’s activities.

  I woke up to Spider sitting on me, tapping my face with his paw. “Mama, Spider hungry. Hungry, Mama. Hungry.”

  “Dude. It’s Monday morning. Have a little sympathy.” I squinted up at him, the morning light coming in through the blinds making it impossible to ignore that it was probably time to get up anyway. I peeked at the clock. A little after seven. I groaned. “Okay, fine. Breakfast is coming.”

  With a happy little meow, he jumped onto the floor and scampered toward the kitchen. I followed, decidedly not scampering. More like the shuffle of the undead. Which made me think about Greyson and smile.

  Not that he shuffled.

  I fixed Spider a dish of food, more Chicken Party, and put it down in front of him, then helped myself to a Dr Pepper and a cold slice of pizza. Yes, I was going out for breakfast at Mummy’s, but last night’s dinner had been skimpy on account of us rushing off to see Francine, so I needed a little something in my system or I might pass out from low blood sugar while I was in the shower. What? It could happen.

  I checked my phone for messages while I chewed and listened to Spider’s happy eating noises. I had a bunch of texts.

  First, two from Cooper telling me Engine Number One had been levitated down off the building thanks to the local coven and could we do dinner.

  I wasn’t thinking clearly enough to figure out my schedule at the moment so I went on to the next message. It was from Birdie, reminding me about breakfast. It was like she knew I was eating leftovers. I gave that message a little side-eye and moved on to the next one.

  And almost dropped my Dr Pepper. It was from Lark. My former best friend. The woman who’d single-handedly broken Cooper and me up so she could make a play for him herself.

  I stared at the message, the cold pizza growing colder in my mouth. I swallowed the bite of cheese and dough without tasting it. I was trembling slightly from the blizzard of emotions running through me. That text required a reread.

  I heard you’re in the states now. Hope everything is chill.

  I didn’t know what to do with that. Did she expect an answer? Did she think we could just pick up after years of not talking? Did she have any idea I knew what she’d done? Had Cooper talked to her? Chill? For real?

  I wasn’t in the right head space to figure any of it out. Lark would have to wait. And dinner with Cooper seemed like a good idea. At the very least, I could get his take on her message.

  I sent him a quick text saying dinner at seven would be great. I left Lark out of it. No point in bringing that up until I had to.

  I put my phone back on the counter and stared at it, trying not to think about Lark and the trouble she’d caused and failing.

  This wasn’t the way I’d imagined I’d be starting my day, but on the plus side, I was definitely awake now.

  I knew I liked Birdie, but after she placed her breakfast order, I realized she might actually be my spirit animal. Hey, it was possible. She was a werewolf, after all.

  Admiration continued to overwhelm me as our server walked away to put our order into the kitchen. I had to say something. “Blueberry pancakes, a side of bacon, a cinnamon roll and a cheese omelet?”

  Birdie adjusted her napkin on her lap in a very ladylike manner, her mouth fixed in a prim little smile. “Well, I need my protein.”

  Sure, because the cheese omelet was what put that order over the top. And all I’d gotten was strawberry cheesecake-stuffed French toast and sausage links. “You’re kind of amazing.”

  She smiled and leaned in conspiratorially, although our back booth was pretty private. “You know how it is. We supernaturals have very high metabolisms. And I did go for quite a run last night.”

  The thought of Birdie in her wolf form was incredibly intriguing, but we had business to discuss. “Speaking of yesterday, I have some news.”

  I filled her in on what Greyson and I had done last night, what we’d found out and how she and I didn’t need to go see Francine this morning because of it.

  “At least we know what we’re dealing with now.” Birdie’s eyes tapered down. “Sounds like she’s hiding something.”

  “That’s what Greyson said too.”

  Birdie shook her finger. “Mark my words, that woman is an odd duck.”

  I straightened my silverware. “She wasn’t thrilled to see us.”

  “I’m sure she wasn’t.”

  “Greyson had to encourage her to get her to let us in.”

  Birdie rolled her lips in like she was suppressing a laugh. “I’m sure he did.”

  There was a break in the conversation while our server brought our drinks. Ice water for me and a cappuccino for Birdie. I squeezed the lemon wedge on the side of the glass into my water. “Now that I’ve met Francine, I totally see what you mean about her looking sour.”

  “Doesn’t she have a puss on her? My word, the woman could curdle milk just by being in the same room with it.” She waved her hand. “But never mind that. We have work to do. A puzzle to figure out. Namely, how to get that imp back in that box.”

  “Right.”

  She lifted her cappuccino for a sip, then set it back down. “We need to talk to the experts in town. The witches. We should start with Corette, I think. She’s a wealth of knowledge and the secretary of the local coven. Plus, she’s one of the most accessible of the older witches.”

  “Is she the one who owns the bridal shop? I don’t think she’s going to be all that willing to speak to me after what happened to her dresses.”

  “Corette? Oh, she’s not the kind to hold a grudge, and she’s certainly not going to blame you for something that was an accident. She might be upset about her store looking like a funeral gathering, but she’ll help if it’s going to result in all of this getting fixed.”

  “Good to know. Should we go see her after breakfast? I have time now that we’re not going to Francine’s.”

  “Do you have the box? It would probably help if she could examine it in person.”

  “It’s in my apartment, which is only five minutes away.”

  Birdie nodded and pulled out her phone. “I’ll text her right now and set it up if she’s available.” Our food arrived as Birdie was finishing up. “We’re good to go. She’ll meet us at her shop in an hour. I hope that’s enough time for us to eat.”

  The array of food before us was impressive. “It should be plenty.” The sweet, strawberry scent of the French toast made my mouth water. I picked up the little jug of syrup. “I can’t imagine anything on this table’s going to last that long anyway.”

  Birdie held up a forkful of blueberry pancakes. “That’s the spirit.”

  Twenty minutes later, there were no survivors. Between Birdie and I, we’d cleaned our plates, barely leaving a hint of syrup or a stray berry behind. I insisted on paying the check, although Birdie protested. It only seemed fair since she was here to help me.

  We had time to kill, but that was fine since I needed to retrieve the box from my apartment.

  Birdie walked with me, happy to go along. “I love Santa’s Workshop. I buy all my grandnephew’s presents there. Charlie loves video games.”

  “Does he? We sometimes get toys in the shop that aren’t available anywhere else. Sort of testing the waters, as it were. If any video games come in like that, I’ll let you know.”

  “He’d love that, thank you.”

  I let us into the building. We went up the elevator and down the hall to my apartment. “I should warn you before we go in. Thanks to the imp, my cat can talk and I never know what he’s going to say.” Although he’d yet to talk in front of a
nyone but me.

  “No worries.” Birdie adjusted the straps of her big floral handbag. “I’m sure people say the same thing about me.”

  I snorted as I unlocked the door. “I’m going to leave that one alone.” I pushed it open. “Spider, it’s me. And I have a visitor.”

  He trotted out from the bedroom. Judging by his sleepy eyes, we’d woken him up. He looked at me, then at Birdie.

  He stopped dead in his tracks, his eyes going wide. A low growl came out of him, then he hissed and arched his back and his tail puffed up like a bottle brush.

  I glared at him. “Spider, what’s wrong with you?”

  He meowed and ran back into the bedroom.

  “What on earth…” I glanced at Birdie. “Sorry about that. He’s never done that before, I swear.”

  She shrugged good-naturedly. “Honey, I’m a werewolf. I’d be surprised if he didn’t have a reaction to me.”

  “Well, maybe. But it still seems rude.” The box was on the kitchen table where I’d left it last night, still in its tote bag. I grabbed it, and we were on our way.

  The walk to Corette’s bridal shop got us there a few minutes before nine. It was a cute store. What I could see of it. The words Closed for Restocking had been painted on the paper covering the display windows. I felt bad. That lie was my doing. Inadvertent, but still my doing. Despite what Birdie had said about Corette, I couldn’t help but feel that the woman would blame me a little.

  Birdie knocked on the glass door, then turned to me and said, “Don’t.”

  “Don’t what?”

  “Do what you’re doing. What you’re thinking. You’re making yourself feel bad about this, and it’s not your fault. Letting that imp out wasn’t purposeful. It was an accident.”

  “I know, but—”

  “No,” she said firmly. “It’s fine to be sorry but another to let the guilt be a millstone about your pretty neck.” She gave me a very motherly look. “Things happen. More so in this town.”

  The door opened to reveal a lovely older woman in a trim periwinkle suit and pearls. “Birdie, Miss Frost. Do come in.”

  The shop’s interior was just as I’d imagined a bridal shop should look. Pretty pastels, crystal chandeliers and soft lighting. The black dresses were so out of place it almost hurt to look at them. Like a shiner on a beauty queen.