The farm not being ready yet (which, what was that even, yeah?) sounded like a story to sniff out, but he had a drink in hand and the night was young. Especially when the new barkeep was suggesting an upgrade.Â
He took another sip when Eddie did, broad smile beaming. âAttaboy, Eddie. You know the Valley does its own spirits, yeah?â A nod at the shelves behind the other man. âEvery one of them bottles comes from a household here, and not one of them exactly the same as the other.â
(Maybe the Sinnerman could make an appearance at the next stock-up. Maybe sooner.)
âAnd in terms of whoâs worth knowing, well, lessee.â Fingers went up. âThereâs Ruthie Salenger, didnâtcha already meet her? She was also up at the Kuipers with us several months back. A real looker, and better yet? A real talker. Sheâll have sussed out whatâs what by now.â
Another finger went down. âThen thereâs good old Auntie Sherry â canât miss her, pint-sized ball of energy with bottle-cap glasses that can stare into your future, and Iâm only half-joking about that last bit.â
The stories started flowing when the drinks did, and this, this felt like a warm-up act. A prelude to the crowds that were sure to be coming in, the eager listeners ready to have their socks charmed off.Â
âSurprised you havenât already met her, actually. Her and Uncle Gabe are like a one-couple vaudeville show and welcome wagon all in one. Just⌠be careful about accepting any pamphlets, yeah? You start taking one and Uncle Gabe will come around with the full library of âem, and then one day, bam!â
His hand hit the sturdy bar top for emphasis even as he leaned closer.Â
âYouâll find youâve joined a local coven without even realizing it, and then, boy, then youâre in for it.â
He was halfway to finishing his remaining pint when it occurred to him, âHey. Hey, youâre living with the Madame herself, is that right?â
Eddie caught on to an inkling of a thought about a mysterious liquor, but like most things with Jimmie, it came and went just as fast as conversation topics.
He leaned on the bar counter and switched to the gin cocktail while he listened. Ruthie, yeah, heâd certainly met her, and hadnât made a very good impression. His expression soured at the mention and he quickly scoffed it off, and Jimmie was already on to the next person of interest.
âOh, is joining a local coven... a bad thing, would you say?â Eddie had very few people he could trust to ask any questions. His so-called âfamilyâ was no help with dear cousin Sallie guarding the place. Jimmie was the closest thing he had to a friend, and even then, he could never be sure.
What Eddie did know is that heâd seen some crazy things. The glowing âmap boxâ, the strange third floor of Fallâs Inn, the nighttime funeral for Hartmut Wolgemuth. No one seemed fazed by any of it.
Beneath his shirt, his amulet warmed against his skin.
âMadame Lange, yeah, sheâs...â Eddie lifted a brow, shook his head. âSwell, real swell. I stay outta her way and avoid any trouble. Say, you ever done that, that tea thing with her?â