Devon Monk - Magic in the Shadows

“Fine,” I said. “But I’m not so sure this living arrangement is working for me. If you change your mind, you know the way out.”

I yawned. Okay, a little sleep, hope the gargoyle didn’t eat me, then off to Violet for dessert. Maybe in the morning, sunlight would to turn him back into a statue; then I could take Stone out to the forest where he could frolic among the ferns, gurgle at streams, and make friends with the other interesting rocks.

I kicked off my boots and crawled into bed, pulling the covers over me without bothering to get undressed. I also set the alarm for eight o’clock.

Stone padded over to the side of my bed and tipped his wide head, studying me with round, intelligent eyes.

Kind eyes

, I thought.

I reached out and patted his blunt nose. “Good night, Stone.”

His ears peaked, then relaxed. He settled down on the floor, between me and the door, resting his head back on his arms again and staring straight ahead at the window. I had no idea if he was going to sleep, or even if he did sleep, but he knew where the window was. If he needed to go, he knew how to leave.

Good enough.

I closed my eyes, and fell, gratefully, asleep.

The bad thing about being exhausted after using so much magic is that you not only don’t hear your alarm wailing away for fifteen minutes, you also don’t notice that the half-ton gargoyle who has wandered off and is no longer in the apartment left your window open and let the nearly freezing air in.

I shut my window, then pulled on my boots and dug a hat out of my drawer. I checked the apartment for Stone, who really did seem to be gone. I would have thought I dreamed him up, if it wasn’t for the neatly piled stack of throw pillows with a single empty coffee cup on top teetering on the table in the living room.

I picked up the cup and walked into the kitchen, half hoping Nola would be home, so I could talk to her about everything. But it was only 8:30, and she was apparently still having a good time out.

Stotts better treat her right.

I left her a note saying I was at Tchaikovsky Coffeehouse with Violet and would be home in an hour or two. I considered warning her about Stone, but instead went through the apartment and made sure all the windows were locked.

By the time I was down the stairs and out on the sidewalk, I had about twenty minutes to get to the coffeehouse. Plenty of time.

It wasn’t raining, so I started off walking, and flagged down a taxi just a couple blocks from my place. He dropped me off in front of Tchaikovsky’s.

Inside was warm and candlelit. Every wall was painted a different color, with art hung on nearly every square inch. A few plants were wedged up in the corners of the place. The floor-wood, with a scattering of carpets on which velvet couches huddled-was original to the building. Squeezed between those were tables of various shapes. Right in the middle of the room was a small raised stage, just big enough for the guitarist strumming away. Even though the whole thing should have come across as a crowded mess, it somehow looked and felt energetic and fun.

I grabbed a menu from the TAKE IT AND SIT DOWN box, and wandered into the hubbub. It was busy, but unlike Maeve’s place, where I felt the need to keep up my guard, this felt like the kind of crowd I could lose myself in. I smiled, slid past people who made eye contact and smiled back. A server threaded the crowd with a plate of chocolates and strawberries that made my mouth water.

Even the guitar music was good.

It had been a long time since I felt this relaxed out in public. A long time since I’d done something just for the fun of it. Ever since my dad’s death, my life had been intense.

And not in a good way.

I finally spotted Violet, because she waved and called my name-yes, I was being that observant. She and Kevin had secured a purple velvet love seat with an armchair snugged up against it. I made my way over to them, and pulled off my coat before taking the chair.

“Hey,” I said. “Ordered yet?”

Violet held up her menu. “Waiting for you. I would kill for the mocha fudge pot de créme and a good cup of coffee.”

I glanced at the menu. The vanilla sin almond torte with kumquat drizzle sounded really good. That, and an espresso. “Ready.” I glanced at Kevin. “You good to go?”

He nodded.

The three of us held our menus up over our heads. Silly, yes. But standard in this place, and the server showed up in a remarkably short time. She tucked an empty tray beneath one arm while she took our orders and menus, gave us a smile, and was gone into the crowd.

The guitar guy switched to something a little more up-beat, with Latino influences.

“So.” Violet leaned forward enough to fold one leg under the other. “Is this about your position in Beckstrom Enterprises?”

“I’m that easy to read?”

“It’s been three months since Daniel died,” she said in that matter-of-fact way of hers. “There are still a lot of details that haven’t been settled. We need to take care of the business before people get too nervous.”

“I know. My schedule has been really hectic and it’s only going to get worse. I’m considering a job Hounding on retainer for the police.”

That got Kevin’s attention. He stopped looking like he wasn’t scanning the crowd and instead looked at me.

“Which department?” he asked.

Yes, he was Violet’s bodyguard, and no, I didn’t owe him any answers. But he was also a part of the Authority and a hell of a magic user. I figured he had ways to find out who I was working for, so why keep it a secret?

“Detective Stotts.”

His sandy eyebrows notched up, but that was all the reaction I got out of him.

Violet nodded. “I think that’s a valid choice. I’ve looked into your files.”

“Nice,” I said.

She winced. “I’m sorry if you feel like I’ve crossed a line, but we don’t know each other that well, and. . your decisions about his company could change my life and my research in the most drastic of ways. Did you know your father kept detailed reports on you?”

“Yes,” I said.

“As I said, I went through them and I noticed you don’t have any self-defense training.”

“What?”

“Self-defense. I’m surprised you never took any training. No martial arts, no sidearms training, no basic self-defense classes. Not even in college.”

“I can handle myself just fine.”

She stared at me for a long, uncomfortable moment. Finally, “In the very short time I’ve known you, you have been chased, shot, robbed, stabbed, drugged, and attacked by magic.”

“I’m still breathing, aren’t I?”

Our dessert and coffee showed up. The server caught on quickly that chatty banter was not going to work at our table. She set everything on the small coffee table in front of us, and walked away a little quicker than before.

Violet picked up her coffee and took a moment to appreciate the leaf design worked in the foam. She held the cup in both hands and closed her eyes, inhaling the aroma.

The flutter behind my eyes kicked up again, and I felt a wash of memories push through me. Different times, different places, all Violet, holding a simple cup of coffee like it was treasure, savoring a plain moment like it was gold.

Go away

, I pushed at my dad. Where was that wall when I needed it?

I looked away from Violet, which helped some, then took a drink of my coffee and a bite of the torte. The burst of flavors in my mouth pushed everything else aside. Violet, Kevin, the crowd, and my annoying father would all just have to wait while I ate half that torte and drank half that coffee.

Violet, however, was a multitasker.