Page 47

Relax. You have to relax.

He paused.

He closed his eyes and took a few more inhales, breathing deeply to fill his lungs. The ghostly vapor trails materialized once again in the frigid air. He opened his eyes and basked in the glow of the moon. The moon was Alice’s anchor, providing her with a sense ofjoy and comfort. Hugo hoped it would do the same for him. Its whitish-blue glow disappeared behind the clouds, leaving only darkness in the night sky.

He turned his attention to the black and red crimson awning above what was once Antonio’s Italian Ristorante. The restaurant was dark. No light seeped through the glass in the door. The crimson curtains concealed the interior from prying eyes.

This is the dumbest thing you’ve ever done.

Hugo’s eyes lingered on the gold lettering of the door: Sylvia’s Bistro. That name. That wretched name. He lingered for an eternity, yet it was only a moment. The time had come. It was now or never. He pulled his black leather jacket tight and continued forth.

He opened the door and peered in. Candles scattered across the various tables illuminated the room with a flickering orange glow. There was no movement. There was no one to greet him.

“Come in,” Sylvia’s unseen voice said. “Don’t be afraid. We won’t bite.” She laughed, joined in by Sebastian.

Welcome to my parlor, said the spider to the fly.

“Before I enter, I want to set some ground rules,” Hugo replied.

“Name them,” Sylvia responded.

“First, I’m entering by myself. Alice is outside. We thought it would ease the tension,” Hugo said.

“So, the witch refuses to meet with her queen face-to-face?” Sylvia responded.

You’re not her queen.

“She sent me to negotiate on her behalf,” Hugo said.

“Fine,” Sylvia answered. “Hopefully, negotiations will go smoother than the last time.”

“Second, if I don’t walk out of here, Alice will level this entire building without hesitation.”

“I already told you, we don’t bite,” Sylvia said.

“Do you accept these terms?” Hugo asked. “It’s the only way I’m walking through this door.”

“How do we know you aren’t armed yourself?” Sebastian asked. “How do we know you aren’t setting us up? We haven’t forgotten about last time.”

“That’s why I’m alone,” Hugo responded. “I’ll show you I’m unarmed. Do you accept?”

“Deal,” Sylvia said.

Hugo entered the restaurant. Each step was thoughtful and deliberate. He held his arms out waist high. He turned the corner, and sitting in the center of the restaurant at a square table was Sylvia Savino, as he had hoped.

She wore a crimson, Victorian style frock jacket—a far cry from her usual trendy fashion. The collar, lapel, and cuffs were outlined in black with embroidered patterns. The room was too dark to see their ornate details. It hugged tightly against her frame. Three silver buttons adorned both sides of the jacket. The crimson red didn’t close fully; instead, there was a patch of black material which zipped all the way up and hugged her neck.

Sebastian positioned himself behind her. He rested a hand on her shoulder and leaned in to whisper something into her ear. They laughed. He wore his usual tight black dress shirt, vest, and dress pants with a bloodred tie. If not for the red tie, he could have blended into the background. He smiled at Hugo.

Hmm. Must not have had time to change into matching outfits.

“I’m unarmed,” Hugo said.

“Remove your jacket,” Sylvia commanded. “Spin around and show me.”

Hugo unzipped his black leather jacket. He held it in his right hand, hoping the flowing leather would conceal the makeshift stake taped to his forearm as he moved his arms around. The long sleeve of his black Henley shirt was loose enough to hide it, but twirling around the jacket was even better. He turned around, revealing nothing besides his shirt tucked into the waistband.

He faced Sylvia again. “Satisfied?”