Lullaby (The Fable Series, Book 2)

Chapter Thirteen

I break my "no creepy mysterious stuff for one afternoon" resolution almost immediately.

Within seconds of me arriving at the Night Owl, I hear Mrs. Leyton calling my name across the room. I can see my friends waiting for me at our usual spot – Jamie's newly-dyed bubblegum pink hair has its uses – but they haven't spotted me yet.

I've already kept them waiting thirty minutes. A few extra won't make much difference.

So I put on my best fake smile and walk towards Mrs. Leyton's window-side table. The wealthy elderly widow has been a regular customer as far back as I can remember – every single afternoon since her husband died, she sits at the same table with a slice of cake and a cup of tea, and writes.

She's known locally as a "colorful character", which is really saying something in Portland, home of The Vacuum Cleaner Museum and the world's only vampire-themed vegan strip club. It's not just her habit of wearing the same figure-hugging black velvet dress every day, or her fondness for innate bejeweled brooches shaped like insects (today's is a golden praying mantis with emerald wings), or her love of Pomeranians, of which she has more than twenty apparently. Her reputation has more to do with her intense personality. She either loves you, or she hates you. Luckily, I'm in her good books, but there's one person who I know isn't.

Bea.

They've been archrivals as long as I've known them, not even frenemies, just straight-up, no frills enemies. They can't even stand to be in the same room together, after Bea dumped a whole bowl of punch over Mrs. Leyton's head at a fundraising dinner a few years ago. My mom told me once that they actually used to be friends – along with gran, back in the day – but something happened. I never thought about it much, but now I see an opportunity.

If anyone has any dirt on Bea, or knows anything dark in her past, it'll be Mrs. Leyton.

She smiles warmly as I approach her table, her crimson lipstick slightly smudged, long grey hair pinned up in an elegant bun.

An older grey-haired man dressed in a smart suit is sitting opposite her. He rises up to greet me, pulling out a chair for me.

A few weeks ago Jade mentioned that Mrs. Leyton bought a mystery man to the Night Owl with her. This must be him.

"Ashling, sit down darling!" Mrs. Leyton says.

"That's ok, thanks," I say. "I'm running late to meet some friends, so I can't really be too long."

Mrs. Leyton's whole face crumples with disappointment as her male companion sits back down again.

"Well that's a pity," she says. "Robert, this is the girl I was telling you about, Ashling Shields. Brian and Anna's daughter. Pretty little thing, isn't she?"

"Quite lovely," he says, his eyes flickering instantly to the scar just above my left breast, even though it's completely hidden beneath my dress. His eyes linger there only a second, but its long enough for me to feel a slight stabbing, an echo of the original pain when a shard of glass embedded itself in my ribcage during the bus accident.

I instinctively wince and gasp, clutching my chest, and Mrs. Leyton grabs my wrist, her face creased with worry.

"Perhaps you ought to sit down a bit after all, dear," she says.

The grey-haired man is watching me with sharp eyes, silent and alert as a hawk.

Keep it together. Stay strong. Don't show them any weakness.

"I'm fine, totally fine," I say. "Just an underwire poking me."

Now they're both picturing my bra. Good one, me. Real smooth.