“Sure,” I said, as we started walking again, but I wasn’t convinced. Maybe it was just a hunch, and maybe it would turn out to be wrong, but I had a feeling this fairy tale was more than just people talking. I think they were talking about that specific fairy tale for a reason, and I knew someone who might be able to shed a little light on it. I didn’t want to call Sebastian right here; I felt weird calling him in front of Scout. But I would later. The opportunity for more info was too good to pass up.
“Should we tell Daniel about the fairy tale?” I asked.
“For all the good it’ll do, yeah, we probably should.” She patted down her messenger bag. “Crap. I left my phone in my room. Do you have his number?”
I searched through my bag, but it wasn’t in there. I must have put it down after the battle with the cheerreaper. “I apparently do not.”
“No worries. We can tell him tonight at Enclave.”
Perfect. That would give me a little time to do some investigating of my own.
* * *
We’d walked only a couple of blocks when Scout stopped short. “How about a snack?” she asked. “I am starving.”
Since breakfast had been a handful of fruit candy and a bottle of orange juice, I was also starving. “Fine by me.”
“I know just the place,” she said, then headed down a side street. I could smell something cooking—something fried and buttery. The smell was coming from a small shop tucked between two hotels—with a line out the door ten to fifteen people deep.
We walked past the door, but the store was so small I couldn’t see what they were selling.
“This is the place?” I wondered.
“This is the place,” she said, then walked to the end of the line, crossed her arms, and faced the door, her expression all business.
Whatever they sold, this girl was serious about it.
“Any hints about what this is?” I whispered, as more people joined the line behind us. Folks were leaving, but the stuff they’d bought was hidden in small paper bags and coffee cups. Doughnuts, maybe? Muffins? Cupcakes?
“That would really ruin the surprise,” Scout said.
Ten minutes later we reached the threshold, and I could finally see inside the shop. Two men and a woman stood behind a counter. The woman was at the cash register. One of the guys stood in front of a giant round fryer, and the other was mixing a giant kettle with a wooden spoon.
“Churros con chocolate,” Scout said, in a pretty good Spanish accent. “Fried dough and this crazy thick chocolate. You’ll love it.”
Of course I would. I mean, it wasn’t exactly a hard sell. Chicken-fried grasshoppers would have been questionable. Eyeball of eel would have been a no-go from the start. But pastries and chocolate? Yeah, I’d give that a whirl.
The place smelled like grease, sugar, and chocolate. Totally intoxicating. When we finally got to the counter, Scout ordered for us and handed over some cash. The girl took the money, then used tongs to lift long fried thingies into a paper bag. Scout took the bag; I took the two small foam cups that followed.
We took the booty and headed outside again. I felt a little guilty as we passed the other folks in line. They looked longingly at our stuff, probably wishing they were the ones with food in their hands.
I followed Scout across the street to a stone office building with a low concrete railing around it. She popped up onto it, then patted the railing beside her. “People watching 101.”
I took a seat and handed over her cup while she offered up a churro. It was still hot and a little greasy. More crunchy than soft, with ridges along the edges.
“Behold,” Scout said, then pulled out her own snack, opened a cup of chocolate, and dipped the churro into it. “Dip and munch,” she said, then took a bite.
I followed her example . . . and had to close my eyes to take in all the flavors. Hot. Crunchy. Sweet. Bitter. Smooth.
Amazing.
“OMG, you are a goddess,” I said, going back for another bite. At this rate, I’d have the thing finished before she even answered.
“That’s not even the best part,” she said. “Look up.”
Still munching, I lifted my gaze. With the sidewalk in front of us, and streets all around us, we had a fantastic view . . . of people. All shapes and sizes. All genders and ethnicities. A short, prickly-looking man with a tiny dog. A couple of tired-looking tourists with a baby stroller.
“Oooh, peep this,” Scout quietly said, nudging me with her elbow. Two of the tallest people I’d ever seen were walking past us. They wore the same outfits—neon-bright pants and even brighter shirts. They were blindingly bright. Where could you wear that kind of thing?
“Maybe they work in really dark rooms,” Scout said, reading my mind. “Or they direct traffic.”
“Or work in a highlighter factory. Or make paint chips.”
“People are just odd,” she said, and I really couldn’t disagree with that.
* * *
We ate our churros, and when they were gone, I followed Scout’s lead and took a sip from the cup. The chocolate was thick, rich, and delicious. Not that there was a chance it wouldn’t be—we were basically drinking melted chocolate.
“I would take an IV of this every morning,” I murmured.
“Seriously, right? I wish they had a delivery service. I need to wake up every morning with chocolate and churros outside my bedroom door.”
“Oooh, and the brat pack would have to be banned from the store forever. I mean, if we’re talking big dreams here.”
“I like the way you think, Parker. I’ve always said that about you.”
“Speaking of the brat pack, what are we going to do about Veronica?”
“Ignore her?”
“Nicu won’t appreciate that,” I pointed out. “We promised him a meeting tonight. And since he brought my boyfriend back in one piece, I’d really like to keep it.”
“All we have to do is get them in the same place at the same time. I assume we need to do it at night because, you know, Nicu is a vamp, but it can’t be too late, because she’ll be in pajamas and we won’t be able to convince her to leave her suite.”
“We’re going to have a hard enough time convincing her to leave at all. She’ll think we’re up to something.”
“What about during party prep? Can we arrange a meet then?”
I shook my head. “She’ll be there with Amie and M.K., and they’ll follow her. We need to separate her from the herd.”