Page 36 of Bonds of Magic (Vesperwood Academy: Incubus #3)

NOAH

T hat night after my disastrous lesson with Cory, I sat in my car, staring at the massive wooden lodge that made up the bulk of Angler’s Rest. It was built from large logs, carefully treated to look rough-hewn, and a steep, wood-shingled roof jutted five feet past the walls in every direction, the deep eaves preventing snow from building up against the building.

Angler’s Rest was a fishing resort and casino, and the fanciest place in this part of Wisconsin.

Even Vesperwood didn’t have a paved drive.

It was a random Wednesday evening in March, but the parking lot was full.

A few cars would be for customers staying in the Swiss-chalet-style cabins that overlooked Lake Superior.

The main lodge had a restaurant, bar, and more hotel rooms. But most of the cars belonged to gamblers who were here for the slot machines and table games.

The food at Angler’s Rest wasn’t that good.

I’d already eaten dinner. Just a sandwich back at my cabin, nothing fancy. I was out of mustard and the roast beef was on the edge of going off, but it was better than risking the refectory. I didn’t want to be near Cory any more than necessary.

All through Combat today, he’d glared like he wanted my head on a spike. Like he might grab one of the broadswords that hung on the wall and take a good chop at my neck.

I tried to remind myself that was what I wanted.

It was better for him to hate me than to think anything could happen between us again.

But it still hurt, so I’d avoided the refectory at all costs.

Faculty and students took their meals at the same time, and it was bad enough seeing him in class. I didn’t need more contact.

The front entrance to Angler’s Rest was framed by eight huge log pillars, funneling visitors towards the door.

They were meant to give the place a woodsy vibe, to make it feel connected to nature.

But the wood had come from elsewhere. Any trees that size in Wisconsin were protected now, old-growth forests being so rare.

The casino was an assault on the senses.

It sat to the left of the front entrance, and the sounds of slot machines and kinetic music mixed with flashing lights, sparkles, and the scent of too many people in sweat-damp winter coats.

Overheated air pumped through the entrance, and a server crossed in front of me with a tray full of drinks from the bar, all of them virulent shades of green, blue, and pink.

All the dealers and servers in the casino looked busy, so I turned right, heading into the restaurant and bar instead.

This area was dimmer, and much quieter. Piped in music played slow jazz.

One table was occupied by two women sipping martinis, and an old guy in camo sat at the far end of the bar, peeling the label off his bottle of Bud.

The bartender, a beefy blond with tattoos up his arms, caught my eye as I walked up. “Hey man, what can I get you?”

“Whisky. Whatever’s your cheapest.” I didn’t bother to scan the bottles behind the bar. “And some information, I hope.”

I slid onto a stool and put a twenty down on the polished wood bar for the whisky. Then I added two more twenties next to the first. The bartender’s eyes shot up as he set my glass down, but he pocketed the extra forty quickly enough.

“Information, huh?” The bartender’s nametag said Law. He didn’t sound worried—not yet—but he was wary. Smart guy. Wary kept you alive when strangers came calling. “What kind of information?”

“I’m looking for someone,” I said. “Trying to track him down. I think he might come here sometimes.”

I described Sheridan, right down to the dismissive way he looked at people and his arrogant conversational style. Of course, I already knew he came here. But I wanted to know if he did anything strange while he was off-campus. If he met with anyone suspicious.

Law’s eyes narrowed. Then he nodded, evidently deciding that this was information he could part with.

“Yeah. That’s Sheridan,” he said. “One of our regulars. Comes here with another guy on Thursdays. Always gets the fish fry.” He paused. “He comes in here on his own though, too. Thinks he’s good at blackjack.”

“Is he?”

Law snorted and began wiping down the bar with a rag. “I said thinks , didn’t I?”

Interesting. There was a reason I didn’t play poker that often with Nat.

I wasn’t a bad player, but she could count cards with her eyes closed, and I didn’t like those odds.

But Sheridan never joined in. He came here instead.

Did he have a gambling problem? Or was there some other reason he kept coming back here? ”

“He meet anyone here when he plays?” I asked. “Talk to anyone else regularly?

“Aside from the servers, no.” Law made a face. “I get the impression he’s kind of a blowhard. Don’t blame the other regulars for avoiding him.”

That tracked with the Sheridan I knew. But it didn’t tell me anything useful.

Law’s hand stilled, and his head tilted as he considered me for a long moment. I looked back at him, face neutral. Finally, he nodded.

“To be honest, Sheridan hasn’t been in lately. He’s run up some big debts with the casino and hasn’t paid any of them off. The owners contacted the cops, but no one’s seen him.” He gave me a questioning look. “Have you?”

Now things were getting interesting.

“Would I be in here asking questions if I had?”

I kept my voice even. So Sheridan had lost enough to have built up quite a tab. Maybe he did have a problem. But did it connect to anything at Vesperwood?

“You’re actually the second person to come in looking for him this week,” Law said, picking up a sparkling clean glass and polishing it unnecessarily. “Just a couple of days ago, a woman came in asking about him too.”

“What did she look like?”

The bartender looked down at the twenty still sitting on the bar, paying for my untouched drink. I sighed and pulled two more bills out of my wallet. He looked disappointed when they turned out to be tens.

“All the cash I’ve got,” I said with a shrug. I hadn’t expected this conversation to be so expensive.

Law picked up the bills and tucked them into his pocket. “Curly black hair, cut short. Tall for a woman. Kind of a big nose. Don’t know what else to tell you.”

It didn’t sound like anyone I knew from Vesperwood.

“Is she staying here?” I asked, wondering if I could convince the bartender to tell me her room number.

But Law shook his head. “No, she said she already had a room, back up the road.” He nodded in a generally eastward direction.

That didn’t make any sense. The only thing up the road in that direction was Vesperwood. Unless she was staying in Pointe Claudette.

“That’s all I can tell you,” Law said. “She didn’t say much else.” He glanced down at my whisky. “You gonna drink that?”

I shook my head, sliding off the stool. “Nah, I’m good. Thanks for the information.”

“If you find Sheridan, you let him know we’re looking for him, alright?”

“Will do,” I said.

But not until I got what I wanted first.