Page 64 of Magic of the Damned

“Can you take me to the coffee shop, or should I call a Lyft?”

“I’ll take you. I think it’s a good idea for us to stay together until this is over.”

As I followed him down to a garage with a silver BMW sedan, black Audi R8, and a Range Rover, he turned to me and said, “It’s private—came with the apartment.”

Emoni’s eyes brightened when I entered the coffee shop. There weren’t any customers, so she came from behind the counter and hugged me.

I pulled from her hold and studied her. Hugging was another uncharacteristic thing.

“Can you believe this?” She waved a hand toward the bookstore, where the door was closed and there looked to be a team of people repairing things. The display shelves and books had been moved to the coffee shop, along with whatever saleable items had survived.

The items took over a small section of the coffee shop but didn’t seem to bother the few customers. With coffee in hand, they perused the additions while Lilith stood behind the register, waiting to help them with their purchases.

“I wonder why the bookstore was the only store hit,” Emoni mused with a frown.

“What?”

She looked at another barista and mouthed for her to cover. Turning back to me, concern creased a frown in her face, giving her a stern appearance. Her thick, tightly coiled curls were worn back off her face with a Puff Cuff; she looked younger.

“This might sound ridiculous… You know what, I’ll admit it’s bananas, but Jackson said that Dominic’s obsessed with you. He thinks Dominic vandalized the store so he could have more time with you. Jackson’s convinced that you’ve been spending all your time with him.” Once it was out, she covered her face. “Ugh, it sounds even more ridiculous saying it out loud.” And she let out a mirthless laugh, spreading her fingers to look at me through the spaces.

“I have spent a lot of time with him. He’s interesting.” Not a lie.

“And hot as hell,” she added.

“I’m not going to deny that.” I grinned, still unable to shake a suspicion that she might have been compelled, as Jackson had been. But no, this was Emoni, a sardonic quirk in her lips, expressive eyes, and that charismatic presence that allowed her to get away with snarky and poorly veiled insults to “faux coffee lovers.”

“I just wanted to make sure you’re okay,” she admitted.

She led me to a table a few feet from Peter, who had taken over a table in the corner of the store, legs out, books, papers, tablet, and an uneaten sandwich and muffin in the middle of the table, making it uninviting for anyone looking to share.

Shaking my head, I jerked my chin in his direction. “Someone is definitely an only child.”

“Or a self-centered ass.”

“Possibly, but he seems nice enough. Just weird.”

She looked unconvinced and moved her attention to the window. “It’s nice out. Let’s go for a walk. Catch up. I feel like we haven’t talked in so long.”

Familiarity eased in. We took many walks around the eclectic neighborhood to people watch, admire the unique fashions, take in the smell of food from the restaurants, and make predictions about whether the dog spa, hemp bakery, or ‘I really didn’t think this through” store would be around the next year.

“Sure.”

Dominic was seated outside on the patio of the restaurant across the street from the coffee shop. Unless she was looking for him, he’d go unnoticed. Based on Emoni’s line of questioning, it was good that I’d suggested he stay away.

“This way,” she said, pointing away from the main street, through the alleyway. “We always take that route. Let’s go down Kern Way. I want to check out that new coffee shop,” she said when I hesitated.

Okay. Her smock was still on; she was going to broadcast her reconnaissance efforts.

“Tell me about Dominic,” Emoni said as she pointed at our destination, the coffee shop signage of a steaming cup of coffee next to the name Café Intermezzo. Would it appeal to Americans, or would it be considered pretentious?

“I don’t know a lot about him. He’s broody and standoffish.” Not a lie.

“So he doesn’t think you’re a witch?” she teased, turning to look at my expression.

“He changes the subject when I steer it toward that. He believes I am, but I think he knows the absurdity of it.” Lie. But I didn’t know what to tell her, and the guilt of lying to protect her left a heavy pit in my stomach. Emoni didn’t seem to notice any change in me, and the conversation quickly moved to her asking if I liked him. I gave a very unconvincing no. She let that lie slide. It was more complex than just a simple no. I couldn’t like the Prince of the Underworld. But denying my attraction to him was ludicrous.

The ardency of his promise to make sure I survived this had changed the way I saw him. I doubted he made many promises that involved protecting a life. Rather, he was definitely the type of person to make vows to take a life in the most painful manner possible.

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