“Hugo,” the woman said in greeting. “I expect you won’t make things difficult for me, yes?”
Hugo shrugged. “You know you’re always welcome, Ms. Tripplethorne. Charon’s Crossing is open for all.”
“Oh,” she breathed. “Aren’t you lovely, you silly flirt. Open for all, you say? What could you possibly mean by that?”
“You know what I mean.”
She leaned forward. Wallace was reminded of a nature documentary he’d seen once about the mating habits of birds of para dise, their plumage on full display. She was obviously aware of her more … substantial features. “I do. And you know what I mean, sweet man. Don’t think you have me fooled. The things I have seen across the world would be enough to strike fear into the very heart of you.” She traced her finger on the back of Hugo’s hand on the counter.
“I have no doubt,” Hugo said. “So long as you don’t bother my other customers, and stay out of—”
“Oh hell no,” a voice growled. The doors behind the counter swung open, smacking against the wall and rattling the jars filled with tea as Mei stalked out of the kitchen, a small towel in her hands.
“—Mei’s way, we’ll be fine,” Hugo finished.
“Mei,” the woman said with no small amount of scorn.
“Desdemona,” Mei snarled.
“Still back in the kitchen, I see. Good for you.”
Hugo managed to hold Mei back before she launched herself over the counter.
The woman—Desdemona Tripplethorne, a mouthful if there ever was one—remained unaffected. She slapped her gloves against her hand as she looked upon Mei dismissively. “You should work on those anger issues, petal. They’re unbecoming of a lady, even one such as yourself. Hugo, I’ll take my tea at my usual table. Make it quick. The spirits are restless here today, and I won’t miss my opportunity.”
Mei wasn’t having it. “You can take the tea and shove it up your—” But whatever threat she wanted to make was left to the imagination as Hugo pulled her back into the kitchen.
Desdemona turned and eyed everyone in the shop who was staring at her. Her lip curled in a close approximation of a sneer. “Continue on,” she said. “These are matters far beyond your earthly understanding. Tut-tut.”
Everyone turned away almost immediately, the whispers reaching a fever pitch.
Nelson grabbed Wallace by the hand, jerking him toward the kitchen. He looked back before they passed through the doors to see the woman and the two men heading toward a table near the far wall under the framed poster of the pyramids. She rubbed her finger along the tabletop before shaking her head.
“—and if you’ll let me, I’ll just put a little poison in her tea,” Mei was saying to Hugo as they entered the kitchen. Apollo sat next to her, ear flopped over as he looked between the two of them. “Not enough to kill her, but still enough for it to be considered a felony for which I’ll absolutely accept jail time. It’s a win-win situation.”
Hugo looked horrified. “You can’t ruin tea like that. Every cup is special and putting poison in it would ruin the flavor.”
“Not if it’s tasteless,” Mei countered. “I’m pretty sure I read that arsenic doesn’t have a taste.” She paused. “Not that I know where to get arsenic right this second. Dammit. I should’ve looked into that after last time.”
“We don’t murder people,” Hugo said, and it didn’t appear that this was the first time he’d said it to her.
“Maim, then.”
“We don’t do that either,” Hugo said.
She crossed her arms and pouted. “Nothing’s stopping us. You told me that we should always try to achieve our dreams.”
“I didn’t have murder in mind when I told you that,” Hugo said dryly.
“That’s because you think too small. Go big or go home.” She glanced at Wallace. “Tell him. You’re on my side, right? And you know the law better than any of us here. What does it say about killing someone who deserves it?”
“It’s illegal,” Wallace said.
“But not, like, completely illegal, right? Justifiable homicide is a thing. I think.”
“I mean, there’s always a plea of not guilty by reason of insanity, but that’s difficult to pull off—”
Mei nodded furiously. “That’s it. That’ll be my defense. I’m so insane that I didn’t know what I was doing when I put arsenic in her tea.”
Wallace shrugged. “It’s not like I can testify against you showing premeditation.”
“Not helping,” Hugo said.
Probably not, but it wasn’t like he thought Mei would actually murder someone. Or so he hoped. “What’s wrong with that woman? Who is she? What did she do besides have a terrible name?”
“She calls herself a medium,” Mei spat. “A psychic. And she has a crush on Hugo.”
Hugo sighed. “She does not.”
“Right,” Nelson said. “Because most people put their boobs up on the counter like she does. Perfectly natural.”
“She’s harmless,” Hugo said, like he was trying to convince Wallace. “She comes in here every few months and tries to run a séance. But nothing ever happens and so she leaves. It’s never for very long, and it doesn’t hurt anyone.”
“Are you hearing yourself?” Mei exclaimed.
Wallace was still stuck on the word crush. It made him bristle more than he expected. “I thought you were gay.”
Hugo blinked. “I … am?”
“Then why does she flirt with you?”
“I … don’t know?”
“Because she’s awful,” Mei said. “Literally the worst person in existence.” She began to pace. “She gives people like me a bad name. She cons others out of money, telling them she’ll help them communicate with their loved ones. It’s messed up. All she does is give them false hope, telling them what they think they want to hear. She has no idea what I had to go through, and even if she did, I doubt it would stop her. She waltzes in here like she owns the place and makes a mockery of everything we do.”
Hugo sighed. “We can’t just kick her out, Mei.”
“We can,” Mei retorted. “It’s very easy. Watch, I’ll do it right now.”
He stopped her before she could storm through the doors.
For a moment, Wallace thought it was all for show. That Mei was being overly dramatic, playing a part. But there was a twist to her mouth he’d never seen before, and a sheen to her eyes that hadn’t been there a moment ago. She gnawed on her bottom lip as she blinked rapidly. He remembered what she’d told him about what it’d been like for her when she was younger, when no one would listen to her when she tried to tell them something was wrong.
“What does she do?” he asked.
“Ouija board,” Nelson said. “She said she found it in an antique store, and that it once belonged to Satanists in the 1800s. There’s a sticker on the bottom that says it was made by Hasbro in 2004.”
“Because she’s full of shit,” Mei snapped.