Excerpt Three:
The Jag screeches to a stop and I open my eyes to find a sheep staring at me, paralysed in place. It should be grateful it isn’t sitting in the passenger seat.
“That was fun.” Emily turns, taking in my skin’s green tinge. “Sorry, did I go too fast?”
I blink at her, stunned. Did she go too fast? “No, I always feel as if my gut has left my body and is hitching a ride back to me.”
Emily blinks at my sarcasm. “Your funny.”
“So I’ve been told.” Not that I’m feeling funny, just relieved.
“Come on, I’m starving, and Henry is the best chef ever to grace our tiny planet.”
I open the door and fall onto the concrete. Pleasure floods my system and I now know why the Pope kisses the ground when he gets off a plane.
Emily’s heels hit the concrete, unconcerned, she throws back her blonde hair and inhales.
“You’ll love it at The Blood and Bone, the food is amazing. Henry studied under the careful guidance of Procopio Cutò.”
“Never heard of him,” I mutter, climbing to my feet, and dusting off my jeans.
“Before your time. Procopio Cutò was an Italian chef from Sicily and founded Café Procope in 1686. So you know, Café Procope is the oldest surviving café in Paris.”
“I’ve never been to Paris either.”
“Poor Henry, he has a heathen in his midst.”
“Just because I’ve never been to Paris or heard of what’s his name… Cut-Toe, doesn’t make me uncivilised.”
“You try telling Henry that. And it’s Cutò.”
“Whatever.” Emily throws me one of her gorgeous smiles and I’m betting dead and alive she’s popular with the men.
After the car ride from hell, I’m aware I should dislike her, but I don’t. She has a warmth about her despite her predatory nature, proving the soul doesn’t die when human life ends.
“Come on, time for Henry to meet you.” She throws an arm over my shoulders, steering me towards the sixteenth century pub.
The delicate scent of food engulfs me in its sweet scent. My stomach answers its call regardless of its earlier turmoil.
I’m pleased to announce that the bloody skeletal mouth in which sits a large dripping bone where shadows with long claws hang back waiting, doesn’t put me off. The pub sign commands your attention, leaving you wondering at the food served. But my appetite is growing, and while gruesome and explicit, it does little to calm the rumbling in my stomach.
A quick look at the number of diners tells me we are going to be lucky to get a table. My first stop, however, is to remove the pressure from my bladder.
“Won’t be a sec, I just need to use the bathroom.” I leave Emily to get a table and follow the signs directing me to the ‘Ladies’.
A silhouette of a woman sitting on a throne, wearing a crown signals I’ve reached my destination. Emily is leaning against the far wall as I walk out of the cubicle, making me jump.
“Blimey! Have you ever thought of wearing a bell?” I wave a hand at her puzzled expression. “Never mind.”
“Our tables ready.”
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