Crows of a Feather

17. We read the prophecy

Le Sanglier was in Little Italy despite its French name. It was a dimly lit restaurant in an unassuming brick house. The patrons were a vibrant bunch; from a rowdy gaggle of short, stout men drinking enormous pints of beer, to a pair of quiet and sophisticated women who wolfed down dozens of plates of raw beef in minutes.

I spotted my friends in a corner booth by a frosted window, accompanied by a tall woman and a short man both wearing stylish clothes. Amelia and Charon ran to hug me tightly. I grasped onto them like they were going to disappear if I let go. When Elias warned them about making a scene, they let go.

"You're such a fucking dumbass," Amelia said and punched my arm.

"I guess I earned that," I admitted.

"You did," Charon said. "What happened? Where did you go?"

"Let's talk about it when we're alone, okay?" I said. I eyed the other people at the table suspiciously.

Elias ushered us to the booth. I was introduced to Barbara Bullock — a witch in her 30s, with a purple tinge in her natural curls and a shiny golden band around her ring finger — and her husband, Bryan Berger. He was a head shorter than Barbara, and he had auburn hair and a matching silver ring. He wore a suit that was a little bit too big around the shoulders, a black hat and round glasses.

"Well, isn't this nice?" Barbara said as a waiter in a deep red suit brought us drinks menus.

"I could argue with that," Elias muttered under his breath.

"Listen, I really appreciate the dinner and everything but my friends and I are in a hurry," I said.

"Too busy to have a good meal? That's ridiculous," Bryan said.

"But—"

"Ooh, look at that!" Barbara gasped and pointed at the menu. "They've got that Merlot we had on our anniversary."

I figured arguing was pointless. We'd just have to get through the dinner quickly. Maybe food would do us good, anyway — I didn't know about my friends, but I was starving.

Barbara ordered a bottle of Merlot for herself and her husband, beer for Elias and sodas for me, Amelia and Charon. A cold coke had never tasted so good.

"Could we get one special menu as well, please?" Bryan asked when our drinks arrived and the waiter handed all of us menus.

"Right away, sir," the waiter said.

"What's the special menu?" I asked. I was eyeing my own menu, which looked pretty special as well. I had never heard of most of the dishes. The safest option was probably one of the steaks, but even they had weird dressings and sides.

"It's not for you, dear," Barbara said with her big signature smile.

The waiter showed up again with a sleek black two-sided card and handed it to Charon. My eyes fell on a man at a different table holding the same menu in his hands and drinking something that stained his lips red. It dawned on me why Charon was getting a different menu.

"There's no... human in any of these, right?" Charon asked the waiter uncomfortably.

"All of our special dishes come with the chef's la sauce au sang, but I assure you that the... erm, main ingredient, in it is all harvested from donations. Completely ethical. Other than that, numbers 3 and 4 on your menu are vegetarian," the waiter explained.

"Oh... Can I get number three without the sauce, then?" Charon said.

"Are you sure?" the waiter asked. He looked offended.