me the hell out.” Hawkins rubbed at his chin as if to wipe off the memory of the stranger’s touch. “Did you see how he looked at me?”
Mr. Locke stepped around the metal ramp. Carrying the cardboard container, he brought it into the restaurant. Alice Poe followed behind him.
Before the café’s door could close, Hawkins threw a hand up into the air. “Eff you!”
Kristin grabbed at his arm. “Let’s go home.”
Chapter Twelve
Mrs. Norton led Martin Piotrowski to the café’s front door. “Thank you for all of your help,” she said. “You’re a darling.”
“There’s still a lot to do. Most of the boxes haven’t even been opened.”
“We’ll manage.”
“You’re sure?”
“I am.” She patted the side of his face. “Your eyes aren’t very good at night, you’ve said so yourself. It’s getting late and I wouldn’t want you to have an accident on the way home. I might have a need for you later.”
Reaching for the coat rack, Martin plucked a gray felt hat from its upper rack. Nestling the hat upon his balding head, he dipped its front brim toward Mrs. Norton and left.
She closed door behind him, locking it. Mr. Locke entered the dining area with Alice Poe at his back, following nervously.
Mr. Locke said, “Why do you waste your time with that fossil?”
Opening a thin, rectangular box, Mrs. Norton tore off its end tab and reached inside. Stepping into the café’s picture window, she positioned a UNDER NEW MANAGEMENT sign in its lower left corner.
“He wants you,” Mr. Locke said. “You can smell the lust on him.”
“Watch your tongue,” Alice Poe told Mr. Locke. He scowled at her and she shifted uneasily.
“He’s old meat,” Mr. Locke said. “Since when is old meat worth the bother?”
Mrs. Norton tugged for the string controlling the window’s vertical blinds. The white slats slid, sheet-like, to the base of the window. With a twist of a plastic rod, she closed them.
Only then did she focus on Mr. Locke. “You’re still new to our family. Are you already unhappy with how I do things?”
“I didn’t say that.”
No, he hadn’t, but from the way he acted, she knew differently.
It’s going to be a struggle with this one , she thought. Still learning to crawl, he wonders why he isn’t allowed to run. Worse, he thinks he has power.
Power? Him?
His strength is only great in comparison to those we feed upon.
She decided to allow his subtle display of rebellion. This time. After all, he was hungry. It was a new sensation for him, this hunger, and not everyone handled it well. Once he was filled, his color and features returning to him, she would reassess his potential.
Alice Poe saw the shell and could barely wait for its embodiment. Enfleshed, Mr. Locke would be full-lipped with prominent cheekbones; tightly-muscled but still masculine. He’d be pretty for a male and Alice Poe liked them pretty.
A vapid, shallow little thing, Alice Poe had bitter lessons ahead of her but she knew enough to do as she was told.
“It’s loneliness you smell,” Mrs. Norton said. “Martin’s wife left him and his best friend died a few months ago. He feels he no longer has anyone who cares about his well-being. He barely cares about it himself.”
With those words, Mr. Locke’s expression changed. It was very near to lust itself.
Pity he’d never shown as much interest in Alice Poe.
“He has no one?”
“Miss Sweet will do his reading soon enough. He’s quite excited at the prospect. He tells me he’s never visited a ‘psychic’ before. We’ll see what’s in store for Martin. Perhaps he’ll surprise us.”
Mr. Locke’s tongue licked greedily at his lips.
Entering from the hallway, Mr. Brass drew a brown rag over his crystalline hands. “It’s done.”
“I hadn’t expected it to take so long.”
“Me, either.” His broad features grew pinched. “Things take longer when you have to do them by yourself.”
Mr. Locke said, “I
Mr. Locke stepped around the metal ramp. Carrying the cardboard container, he brought it into the restaurant. Alice Poe followed behind him.
Before the café’s door could close, Hawkins threw a hand up into the air. “Eff you!”
Kristin grabbed at his arm. “Let’s go home.”
Chapter Twelve
Mrs. Norton led Martin Piotrowski to the café’s front door. “Thank you for all of your help,” she said. “You’re a darling.”
“There’s still a lot to do. Most of the boxes haven’t even been opened.”
“We’ll manage.”
“You’re sure?”
“I am.” She patted the side of his face. “Your eyes aren’t very good at night, you’ve said so yourself. It’s getting late and I wouldn’t want you to have an accident on the way home. I might have a need for you later.”
Reaching for the coat rack, Martin plucked a gray felt hat from its upper rack. Nestling the hat upon his balding head, he dipped its front brim toward Mrs. Norton and left.
She closed door behind him, locking it. Mr. Locke entered the dining area with Alice Poe at his back, following nervously.
Mr. Locke said, “Why do you waste your time with that fossil?”
Opening a thin, rectangular box, Mrs. Norton tore off its end tab and reached inside. Stepping into the café’s picture window, she positioned a UNDER NEW MANAGEMENT sign in its lower left corner.
“He wants you,” Mr. Locke said. “You can smell the lust on him.”
“Watch your tongue,” Alice Poe told Mr. Locke. He scowled at her and she shifted uneasily.
“He’s old meat,” Mr. Locke said. “Since when is old meat worth the bother?”
Mrs. Norton tugged for the string controlling the window’s vertical blinds. The white slats slid, sheet-like, to the base of the window. With a twist of a plastic rod, she closed them.
Only then did she focus on Mr. Locke. “You’re still new to our family. Are you already unhappy with how I do things?”
“I didn’t say that.”
No, he hadn’t, but from the way he acted, she knew differently.
It’s going to be a struggle with this one , she thought. Still learning to crawl, he wonders why he isn’t allowed to run. Worse, he thinks he has power.
Power? Him?
His strength is only great in comparison to those we feed upon.
She decided to allow his subtle display of rebellion. This time. After all, he was hungry. It was a new sensation for him, this hunger, and not everyone handled it well. Once he was filled, his color and features returning to him, she would reassess his potential.
Alice Poe saw the shell and could barely wait for its embodiment. Enfleshed, Mr. Locke would be full-lipped with prominent cheekbones; tightly-muscled but still masculine. He’d be pretty for a male and Alice Poe liked them pretty.
A vapid, shallow little thing, Alice Poe had bitter lessons ahead of her but she knew enough to do as she was told.
“It’s loneliness you smell,” Mrs. Norton said. “Martin’s wife left him and his best friend died a few months ago. He feels he no longer has anyone who cares about his well-being. He barely cares about it himself.”
With those words, Mr. Locke’s expression changed. It was very near to lust itself.
Pity he’d never shown as much interest in Alice Poe.
“He has no one?”
“Miss Sweet will do his reading soon enough. He’s quite excited at the prospect. He tells me he’s never visited a ‘psychic’ before. We’ll see what’s in store for Martin. Perhaps he’ll surprise us.”
Mr. Locke’s tongue licked greedily at his lips.
Entering from the hallway, Mr. Brass drew a brown rag over his crystalline hands. “It’s done.”
“I hadn’t expected it to take so long.”
“Me, either.” His broad features grew pinched. “Things take longer when you have to do them by yourself.”
Mr. Locke said, “I
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