Robyn Bachar: Blood, Smoke and Mirrors

“Good to know. So yeah, it said it wouldn’t eat me, and we talked a bit. I figured out it was stuck too, so I opened a portal to just outside Silverleaf and we popped right through. It thanked me and flew off, and the next thing I know I’m back here again.” I did my best to sound nonchalant about the stunning display of magic I’d pulled off. Sure it was an enormous achievement for me, but faeries can manage that sort of stuff practically from the cradle, and wouldn’t be nearly as impressed with myself as I was. The two faeries digested this information as I polished off my breakfast. Even with the food as fuel I still felt drained from my adventure, and figured it’d take most of the day to recharge my magical batteries at this rate.

“I guess that explains how Dorian ended up burnt,” Tybalt said.

“Burnt?”

He nodded. “Aye, we have some people keeping an eye on him. When he appeared back at home he had some wicked burns-he must’ve decided to fight the dragon instead of helping it.”

“Why would he fight it?” As I pointed out before, dragons aren’t evil, they just…are. I doubted the other dragon would have found Dorian any more palatable than my dragon found me. Tybalt shrugged, and Portia continued to devour cookies as she moved to perch on the edge of my sink. “I guess he went with a ‘shoot first, ask questions later’ plan. So what happens next?”

“Don’t know that either,” Portia piped up. “More tests are planned, but so far we have no information of what and when. You did good though, we’re proud of you.”

I couldn’t help but smile at her praise, even if it was spoken through a mouthful of half-chewed chocolate chip cookie. I wasn’t entirely sure what happened, if I passed, failed or avoided whatever intended outcome the Council had. All I knew was that I was alive, and apparently still in the running for Titania. I’d better damn well win, too, ’cause there was no way I’d let my father become Oberon.

“Are you speaking to the guardian again?” Tybalt asked.

I blinked at him, surprised. “Not willingly, no. I wasn’t expecting him to be there. Or to show up at the café last night.”

“I can make sure he stays away from you, if you like.” There was tension in his shoulders, and his hand drifted toward his rapier. I smiled inwardly. Tybalt was the closest thing I had to an overprotective big brother.

“Hmm, I’ll keep that in mind.” It was a tempting offer. I wasn’t sure I could deal with the distraction of seeing Lex with the rest of the drama going on.

After my victory feast, the morning settled into a sense of normalcy, or at least it was normal for me. The faeries kept me company, entertaining me until it was time to get ready for my shift at work. Though I could take the day off, the sad truth is a few sick days begin to cut into my small savings and paying the bills gets a bit difficult. Tybalt wanted to go with me, and I decided that with a color and costume change he would fit in well enough. Tybalt’s disguise made him look like the world’s palest surfer, with lanky white-blond hair and enormous aviator sunglasses, but it worked. Portia, on the other hand, I wasn’t about to trust in the café. Promising her I would do my best to be careful and watchful for danger, I convinced her to go home.

The café had a decent amount of customers when we arrived, despite the fact that it was the lull between breakfast and lunch. I set Tybalt up in a booth with a plate full of pancakes and a Chicago Tribune, and then hoped for the best. Squaring my shoulders, I pasted my friendly customer-service smile on my face and began my shift. My section kept me too busy to worry about silly details like the fate of magician/faerie relations throughout the Midwest. As closing approached, we had only three customers left in the café: a young newlywed couple who were regulars seated in my section, and Lex, who’d snuck in at some point and was sitting drinking a cup of coffee over in Maria’s section. She’d left early, of course, and I’d been ignoring him in the hope he’d leave, but he seemed determined to stay. Annoyed, I stopped at his table, coffee carafe in hand.

“Want me to warm that up for you?” I asked politely. I couldn’t tell him off while I was on duty. It’d be unprofessional.

“Sure, go right ahead,” he drawled, smiling slightly. I resisted the urge to pour the coffee into his lap and refilled his cup.

“What are you doing here?”

“Well, I was considerin’ havin’ some pie with my coffee.” There was amusement in those dreamy light blue eyes of his, and I frowned. To my credit, I swallowed my temper and dutifully listed off the pies we had left. He picked apple. How all-American.

I disappeared into the back and Tybalt immediately knew something was wrong. He appeared at my side as I stabbed an innocent pie with a knife that was much too large for the job.

“Lex is in the dining room. Again.”

“I can’t kill him, we’re on neutral ground,” Tybalt apologized, and I laughed.

“That’s true.”

“I can spit in his food.”

“No, thank you. Feel free to threaten him though.”

After venting a little aggression on the pie, I set a non-mangled piece on a plate and carried it into the dining room. Tybalt followed and took the seat across from Lex as I delivered his slice of pie. Without a word I left them alone and headed back to my section to chat for a bit with the newlyweds, who caught me up on the neighborhood gossip. Apparently the city was still investigating the source of a power surge which had blown out the streetlights up and down Main. Oops. Well, that’d teach me for losing my temper. Finally I shooed them outside and began cleaning up their table. As I headed for the kitchen with their dishes I spotted Mac speaking with Lex and Tybalt, and I knew no good would come of that. When I returned to the dining room Mac was in the process of dimming the lights after flipping the sign in our window to “Closed”.

“Something you want to share with me, Cat?” Mac asked from the other end of the room.

Hovering in the doorway, I looked pointedly in the direction of the guardian before turning toward my boss. “With you, sure.”

Lex chuckled, and I glared at him. Those light blue eyes studied me over the rim of his coffee cup, and I felt something twist low in my gut, something that was certainly not the nervous flutter I’d been suffering from lately. Silently I berated myself for still being attracted to him. I knew better than to get giggly over a man who’d more than proved I couldn’t trust him.

I marched over to his table and stared down at him, and he watched me with quiet curiosity. The unmistakable scent of magic wafted up from Lex, the odd mix I’d come to associate with him. A hint of cinnamon marked him as having faerie blood like myself, which could have indicated anything from witch to necromancer, but he was thankfully lacking in the awful rotting stench that clings to necros. There was a bit of the floral scent I associate with witchcraft, but there was also the musk of a shapeshifter and the sharp alcoholic tang of an alchemist-none of which should be found all together. Magicians don’t mix and match their abilities-you’re generally born to what you become-but guardians seem to have a bit of everything.

Guardians are essentially the magic police, but they’re also like the border patrol too. Any otherworldly beings who decide to vacation in the human world and aren’t supposed to-imps, goblins, demons, that sort of thing-get evicted by guardians. If a dragon decided to fly through downtown Chicago, it’d be a guardian’s job to escort it back to Faerie, with extreme prejudice if need be. Just one of their many, many responsibilities. They are overworked, but not underpaid. The Higher Powers made sure guardians want for very little.