Page 82 of A Steeping of Blood (Blood and Tea #2)

Patrons had gathered for the ribbon cutting outside the entrance, a long line curling around the street drawn by the posters plastered across the city and invitations printed in the papers:

SPINDRIFT RISES FROM THE ASHES .

Jin read the menu one last time. Flick’s elegant penmanship was faultless, set aglow by the lights angled toward the blackboard hanging above the bartop, illuminating their extensive offerings.

A list of teas to the left, starting with his once-favorite Lady Slate, and a list of bloods to the right, for he’d learned in his weeks-long taste-testing excursion that blood came in several flavors too.

“Arundel’s Ace? Painter’s Pleasure?” Arthie asked, reading the list of blood offerings.

“You know you’re proud of my naming talents,” Jin said, lifting his chin.

Arthie only rolled her eyes, though he saw the way her gaze softened. She missed him. She turned to the crew, gesturing to the thrum of the crowd waiting behind the ribbon.

“Ready?”

Matteo’s house had needed updating for a tearoom that doubled as a bloodhouse, but Arthie had ensured those changes remained at a minimum.

She added a second door but kept them both the same fervent red of Matteo’s original.

She merged the parlor with the foyer for space, but let no one touch his studio.

There were tables arranged for tea, but Matteo’s settees prevailed for those who wished to stay awhile, shelves of books and a fireplace crackling with welcome warmth.

“Ready, boss!” Chester shouted from the second-story balcony.

“Oh, not yet,” Arthie said, and rushed to a wrapped, flat square frame propped against the counter, unraveling it to reveal a piece of art. A black canvas with a swoop of mauve brushed across with artistic flair. She set it over the hearth with a wistful smile. “Now we’re ready.”

“It’s perfect,” Flick said, stepping behind the bartop to lace her fingers through Jin’s. Her grip was stronger than ever. At each of the tables scattered throughout the floor, Laith was arranging flowers in tiny vases, slowly earning back Arthie’s trust with the bloom of each new day.

Arthie stepped to the doors. She looked back at her crew, at their waiting smiles, and snipped the ribbon.

Mauve silk fluttered in the breeze.

People cheered as Reni bowed and began welcoming them through the doors, Chester leading patrons to seats and taking orders.

Servers carried trays with pots of tea and decanters of blood.

The living walked in beside the undead, some wholly unaware, some with a glint in their eyes that said they were willing to give harmony a try.

Jin drew in a deep breath, and as the scent of tea warmed his heart, he thought of his parents, of his father’s research on the mutations that Jin had decided to continue, he thought of Flick who had found a home for herself, and he thought of Arthie who meandered through the bustling floor to the bartop now.

Her dark eyes were bright. “I suppose we can save the world and have tea.”