Read Online Bone Orchard by Doug Johnson, Lizz-Ayn Shaarawi - Free Book Online Page A

the teapot.
    “Nothing. Just being a good host.”
    He shooed her away and spread an assortment of tea bags on the tray.
    “Come along, then…” he said, hoisting the tray with a smirk. “ Lola. ”
     
    “Oh, lemon zinger. I love that one!”
    Sian dropped the tea bag into her cup and Kitty poured with a saccharine smile. She poured for Dylan, too, then took a seat next to Lazarus across the coffee table from them. She wore a positively contented look on her face. The happy hostess.
    Lazarus leaned in close, slipping into his corresponding role as happy host.
    “Don’t you look like the cat that ate the canary?”
    She snuggled against him and whispered into his ear. “I poisoned the water.”
    His stomach rolled. He stifled a groan as he watched Dylan and Sian steep their tea.
    “So how do you know Lazarus?” she asked Dylan cheerily.
    “I work for McGregor’s Nursery.”
    Kitty returned a look that was utterly out to sea. “Kids?”
    “Plants,” Dylan clarified. The others chuckled and fury flashed across Kitty’s face, but disappeared just as quickly.
    Lazarus watched the tea set like a hawk. Sian removed the lemon zinger bag from her cup and helped herself to sugar and milk.
    “So, I guess you must have quite the green thumb,” Kitty said.
    Lazarus could physically feel his own heart palpitations as Dylan dumped three sugars into his cup.
    “Lord, no! I’m just a driver.”
    Sian lifted her cup and saucer. She raised the cup to her lips and Lazarus nearly leaped out of his seat to snatch it away.
    “So how did you and Dylan meet?” he asked instead. The words spewed from his mouth like buckshot.
    She set the cup back down on the saucer while she answered. Lazarus exhaled a modicum of relief.
    “I’m a bit of a groupie.”
    Sian eyeballed Kitty. Kitty wrung a little extra sunshine from the wholesome beam stretched across her face.
    “How so?” Lazarus asked.
    Dylan slammed his cup down on the coffee table and hissed at her.
    “I told you not to say anything.”
    She disregarded the reprimand. “He’s being modest. Dylan’s the greatest guitar player in Northern England.”
    “You’re in a band?” Kitty asked. “For real? What kind of music do you play?” It was incredulity simmering just above mockery.
    “It’s nothing, just some lads havin’ a lark. We play the pubs.”
    He pulled a Zippo from his pocket along with a pack of cigarettes. The lighter had an ace of spades engraved on one side; it was Dylan’s lucky charm.
    He motioned to Lazarus. “Do you mind?”
    Kitty answered for him. “No, not at all.”
    Dylan raised an eyebrow. He lit up and blew a long, self-absorbed column of smoke toward the ceiling. Suddenly aware his own breach of etiquette, he sat up and offered the pack to the others. “Sorry.”
    Lazarus accepted. “Cheers.”
    While Dylan gave him a light, Sian perked up and grabbed her purse from the floor.
    “Oh, I almost forgot!”
    “Now, now, Love. You promised.”
    Sian waved off Dylan’s protest.
    “What?” Kitty asked. She was now genuinely curious.
    “I’m a bit of a psychic.”
    Dylan snorted.
    “Hush, you.” Sian pulled a cloth bag from the purse. She produced a deck of tarot cards and spread them out across the coffee table. Then she shuffled the cards and shoved them toward Lazarus expectantly.
    “No thanks,” he declined. “What about you, Ki—”
    He smiled, enjoying the chance to mark her the fool. “I mean, what about you, Lola?”
    Kitty smirked. “Sure. Why not?”
    Sian frowned with disappointment, but rotated to face her. Her enthusiasm nose-dived.
    “Cut the cards.”
    Kitty did. Sian then laid out ten cards into two sections. It was the Celtic Cross pattern. Six cards on the left formed the circle and cross, while four on the right formed the staff. The cross was a single card turned down with a second perpendicular card placed on top. The circle was four cards placed around the cross in a pattern identical to the points of a