The Deadly Diadem: A Paranormal Artifacts Cozy Mystery (Paranormal Artifacts Cozy Mysteries Book 2), Tegan Maher [read this if .txt] 📗

I shifted over a couple feet and adjusted a fan so that it was blowing in my face. The heat was brutal, and there hadn't been a mermaid or water nymph around all day. I liked it when they came because it gave me an excuse to wade out to the water bar to wait on them—a definite plus when the thermometer pushed past ninety.

We also had a huge salt-chlorinated, zero-entry infinity pool that had a direct-connect to the ocean, so it was available to everybody. Unfortunately, it was closed for cleaning; a group of unicorns had their son's birthday party in there the day before and ... kids were kids. So, no wading around the edges to deliver drinks. The fan would have to do.

Bob lumbered over to pick up my drink ticket. "Man, that guy's tough," he whispered. "I'm throwin' my best material at him, and nothin’. I can't get him to look away from that laptop.”

I tilted my head and examined the guy in question as he stared at the screen like it held the secrets to the universe. Good looking, as most werewolves were, but he lacked the lightheartedness that marked most of his kind.

"What's his deal, anyway?”

"No idea," Bob said, muddling mint and simple syrup for a mojito. "He's met with Cass a couple times, but that's it. And every time he has, his mood's seemed worse."

That wasn't an atypical response to dealing with our boss though, so it didn't add anything to the speculation. It would have been more unusual had he come away smiling.

Speaking of ...

"Maganti!" Somebody bellowed my last name from behind me.

Before turning, I pulled a deep breath in through my nose and blew it out through my mouth, counting to five as I did.

My boss, Cassiel—otherwise known as the disgraced Angel of Temperance—was a blow-hard and an idiot. I wasn't sure who'd assigned him to be the figurehead of that particular virtue, but apparently, they hadn't been practicing it themselves when they'd made the call.

It had taken a few millennia, but he'd finally pushed his luck one too many times with the powers that be and was tossed out on his ear, much to the chagrin of everybody in the mortal realm, or at least those of us who lived on the Enchanted Coast. Managing the beach bar was his booby prize, and he lorded over it like the planet owed him a living.

As usual, he was already half in the bag, which meant he was gonna be even more horrid than he was when sober. He was the only downside to this job. Well, him and sand in awkward places, but the latter was an easy fix.

Bob finished making the last of my drinks and ambled the couple of steps back to me, a concerned expression on his heavy features as he set them down.

"Don't bait him, Destiny," he pleaded under his breath. "Just find out what he wants, do it, then ignore him. He's just looking for an excuse to can you. Again."

"He can try," I said, lifting a shoulder. He'd fired me the previous summer, for three weeks until word spread to my regulars. It seemed I had a following that had some pull with the higher-ups. Not only had I been reinstated, I'd gotten a raise. Needless to say, that hadn't gone over well with Cassiel.

Still, I loved my job, and goodwill was a fickle beast. As a people person and a water witch who didn't want to live in the closet, the Enchanted Coast—a magical vacation resort on the Gulf of Mexico designed to meet the needs of paranormals—was the best of all worlds. So, in the interest of keeping the peace, I pivoted toward him, gritting my teeth and pasting on a smile.

"Yeah, Cass?" I said, putting everything I had into being pleasant.

Not even attempting to return the courtesy, he gestured toward the outside tables. "The place is a mess. That table needs to be bussed and there are empty cups everywhere. And those fans are for guests only—not lazy waitresses."

I glanced around the area and ran my tongue over my teeth. "First," I said, still trying to maintain my fragile mask of civility, "that table is occupied. They're in the water. Second, there are exactly two empty cups, both of which just blew out of the trash can when you stormed by it and flexed your wings." I decided to let the fan comment drop. "But I'll get right on it."

I had no idea what the reason was for his animosity. He'd despised me from day one, even before he’d had to eat crow and hire me back. I could get along with the devil himself if he was willing to meet me halfway, but despite my efforts, Cass refused to play nice.

After a while, I'd given up. The only thing I could figure was I'd been offered his job before he was sentenced to it. I’d turned it down because I would have gotten paid less to do more after I added in my tips.

"And since you have time to stand around," he sneered, foul as always, "Go clean out the unicorn pen. People can see those rainbow turds from the hotel, and the cotton-candy smell is disgusting."

Bending over to pick up the cups, I muttered an anatomically impossible suggestion for what he could go do.

"What was that?" he asked, narrowing his bloodshot eyes at me.

I heaved a sigh. As usual, I was gonna have to be the bigger person. "Nothin' Cass," I said, waving him off as I went for the shovel. "Just ... have another drink."

With one stroke of the ginormous ashen wings that marked him as a fallen angel, he was towering over me, swaying a little, the smell of old whiskey seeping from his pores. I straightened my spine as my magic surged. The last thing I was willing to do was give